Darren didn’t set sail right away after leaving the tavern.
He hadn’t brought a vessel, much less a crew—this mission had been a solo operation. And the voyage from the New World back to Marineford was a long one, too risky to attempt alone while still recovering from serious injuries. So, he opted for the most practical solution: hitch a ride on Tokikake’s ship.
While Tokikake’s warship was being resupplied—a process that would take at least another hour—Darren took the chance to handle some unfinished business.
Back at the penthouse suite, the moment he opened the door, he found someone already waiting.
The Queen of the Pleasure District lounged gracefully on the leather sofa near the floor-to-ceiling window, red wine swirling languidly in her glass. She wore a sheer black openwork dress, paired with red-soled stilettos that dangled from her toes with effortless seduction.
There was nothing brash about her allure. It was a slow-blooming poison—elegant, intoxicating, and dangerously calculated.
"Leaving already?" Stussy asked without turning her head, her voice like velvet laced with smoke.
The lamplight cast deep amber across the glass in her hand, making her lips look all the more crimson.
Darren shut the door behind him, casually crossing to the minibar. "Didn’t you hear?" he said as he poured a glass of whiskey. "That madman Golden Lion’s on the move again."
As a senior agent of the World Government’s highest intelligence bureau, Stussy didn’t need to ask for details. She already knew. Her fingers toyed idly with the stem of her glass.
"Golden Lion’s ambitions have always been dangerous," she murmured. "Even the government fears what he’s capable of."
"If he’s really stirring again... it won’t be for anything small."
Darren raised an eyebrow, giving her a sidelong glance. "So what, you’re worried about me now? That doesn’t sound like you. I figured you’d be thrilled to see me get killed by Golden Lion. Bury your little secret with me, nice and tidy."
Stussy let out a soft, lilting laugh. "Oh, I did think about that at first."
"But then I thought—what a waste it would be. A man like you? It’d be a shame for the world to lose someone so... interesting."
Darren’s lips quirked upward, the shadow of a smirk touching his eyes. "Oh, I get it now."
Stussy blinked, caught off guard. "Get what?"
Before she could react, Darren was already unbuttoning his uniform, walking toward her with a calm, predatory intent.
Her eyes widened. "What do you think you’re doing?!"
Darren spoke matter-of-factly, without pausing his stride. "You just said it’d be a waste for me to die. Sounds like you want my body."
This bastard... what kind of lunacy is rattling around in that thick skull?!
Stussy’s practiced veneer faltered for a split second. "Didn’t you say last time was the last?!"
Her voice rose sharply, anger tinged with something else—shame, or maybe something more dangerous. The memory of their last encounter flashed behind her eyes, and a faint blush betrayed her even as she glared.
Darren laughed. "We’re both adults. Why pretend?"
"You son of a bitch," Stussy muttered through clenched teeth. She shoved past him in frustration and stormed out, her heels clicking like gunshots against the marble floor.
The moment the door slammed shut, Darren sauntered back to the sofa with his drink, kicked his feet up, and took a long sip.
"You can come out now. She’s gone."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the air itself stirred—a whisper of wind, silent but razor-sharp.
A burst of killing intent erupted.
The room’s temperature dropped instantly as a pale green wind took shape, condensing into a swirling storm before it coalesced into a single charging figure. The blur moved like a shadow on the edge of light, flickering in and out of visibility.
Darren’s eyes narrowed.
Two bodies launched forward in perfect sync, their hands morphing mid-motion into clawed forms—three-fingered, obsidian-hardened, echoing with focused Haki.
Their mirrored attacks collided with a flash of eerie light, claws laced in black Haki trailing like meteor streaks. The impact struck like a thunderclap, shattering the stillness with a muffled boom.
The room shook—but not a single window broke. Not a crack marred the walls. Both fighters had mastered the art of restraint within overwhelming power.
Their knees bent low, bodies twisting like loaded springs.
Elbows snapped forward—blades of bone and force, crashing midair.
Knees collided, bones grinding.
Both men reeled back a half step, then shot forward again.
They channeled power from hip to fist, erupting in simultaneous strikes. White shockwaves rippled outward in clean, perfect circles.
Their fists met again, blew past, disengaged.
Each took several steps back, breathing evenly.
Then the wind settled. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝗻𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹•𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖•𝗇𝗲𝘁
The swirling haze dissipated.
And the intruder came into focus.
He stood tall, wrapped in a hooded green coat, his face shadowed beneath the cowl. But the intensity of his presence—the freezing pressure of his Haki—left no doubt.
Darren smiled and lifted his glass.
"Sashi buridana, Dragon."
Monkey D. Dragon pulled back his hood.
His sharp browless face emerged, dark hair tumbling wildly over his shoulders. He looked down at Darren, eyes gleaming with recognition—and pride.
"You’ve grown strong, Darren. Stronger than I expected."
It had been just six months since they last fought. But Darren’s progress was staggering.
His strikes had real weight now—his Haki denser, more refined, the marrow-deep power of a man ready to challenge emperors.
And those few blows they’d just exchanged... Dragon had felt it clearly.
Darren’s body could now withstand force few men alive could deliver.
More than anything, though, Dragon couldn’t believe Darren had mastered his Dragon Claw Fist—and Old Man’s foundational techniques—with such ease.
What kind of monster are you?
Darren tossed him a cigar. Dragon caught it, inhaled its rich aroma, and nearly melted with satisfaction.
"Found myself a hell of a teacher," Darren said, settling back into his seat.
Dragon raised an eyebrow, lighting the cigar. "Zephyr-sensei?"
Darren shook his head.
Dragon blinked. "Don’t tell me... Kong himself?"
Darren took a sip of whiskey and smiled slyly.