The golden sand tore through the Vice Admiral’s uniform, shredding it to ribbons.
What lay beneath wasn’t just muscle—it was a battlefield.
Darren’s physique was a wall of hardened sinew and scarred flesh, each line etched by war. Across his skin, a faint gleam shimmered—a cold, unnatural light, as if something more than flesh lurked beneath the surface.
Crocodile stared, stunned.
His most powerful attack hadn’t even left a scratch.
"This... how?" he rasped, voice hoarse with disbelief. "How is this possible?"
Beside him, Tokikake stood frozen, mouth agape.
He had fought Darren back in the North Blue—had experienced that monstrous durability firsthand. But even then, Darren’s body had been comparable to Iron Body, one of the toughest techniques in the Marines’ arsenal. Strong, yes—but not this.
This wasn’t steel. It was something beyond human.
"Hey," Darren muttered, brushing dust from his shoulder, "that actually hurt, y’know."
He sounded more annoyed than injured.
With a sigh, he tore away what remained of his uniform, letting it fall.
Crocodile’s fingers twitched. A cold bead of sweat slid down his temple.
Without a word, his right arm swelled—once more transforming into the jagged blade of golden sand: the Desert Treasure Blade.
He thrust it forward with a roar.
The earth split open. Purple lightning danced through the cracks, casting eerie shadows across the ruins.
"Desert Treasure Blade!"
The blade screamed toward Darren with lethal speed.
But Darren’s eyes didn’t flinch.
He raised one arm, catching the attack mid-strike.
Tokikake’s pupils shrank. The indestructible blade of compressed sand—several meters long—was stopped. Held. One-handed.
Darren’s fingers tightened.
The blade crumbled like dry leaves.
A shockwave of sand erupted skyward.
And then the ground shook.
Behind the rising dust, Darren’s knees bent, muscles coiling like drawn steel. He exhaled—and the earth answered.
A hundred meters in every direction disintegrated.
Stone and dirt rose in massive columns. Cracks split through the very foundations of the ruined town like shattered glass.
Darren looked up through the swirling debris, a feral grin twisting his lips.
Like a tiger breaking its leash, he tore through the dust in an instant—faster than any eye could follow.
Crocodile’s pupils contracted, alarm flaring in his gut.
Even with Observation Haki sharpened to its peak, he couldn’t track the Marine’s movement.
Is this really possible?!
Can something even exist on the sea?!
"Not even half my speed," a voice whispered in his ear—ice-cold, bone-deep.
Crocodile turned, too late.
Darren was already there.
A fist, blackened with Armament Haki, slammed into his gut.
Crocodile’s body folded in half around the blow. Veins bulged across his eyes. His cigar flew from his lips.
"You think you can challenge Whitebeard with this pathetic strength?" Darren growled. "You’re centuries too early."
A second punch struck his back, bursting through him with a white shockwave. His fur-lined coat exploded into tatters. Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Three ruined buildings shattered as Crocodile crashed through them, each impact ringing like a cannonade.
Tokikake could only stare, wide-eyed. "So... strong..."
As Crocodile began to arc downward, Darren moved again—vanishing.
And reappeared directly in Crocodile’s flight path.
Tokikake’s eye twitched. No... you wouldn’t.
Hands in his pockets, Darren lit his cigar with a flick.
Crocodile’s body bent around Darren’s knee, a fresh gout of blood erupting from his mouth as he was launched skyward again. For origınal chapters go to 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩✶𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙚✶𝕟𝕖𝕥
Darren leapt after him.
The sounds echoed like thunder above the island.
A figure danced high in the sky, too fast to follow. All the watching Marines could make out was Crocodile’s bloodied body flailing through the air, tossed back and forth like a broken doll.
Up, down, sideways—every direction.
He was kicked into the clouds, slammed back down, punted again. Over and over.
The Marines stared, their faces pale, their spines cold.
Tokikake’s mouth opened and closed, stunned.
Was this... really necessary?
One full minute passed.
And then Crocodile’s limp body finally fell.
He crashed into the earth like a meteor, his impact creating a crater deep enough to bury a building.
Smoke curled from the hole in the ground.
Darren landed a few steps away, his cigar now half-burned.
Crocodile twitched, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, his body twisted and wrecked.
He could barely think, let alone move.
He’s... too strong...
This wasn’t fighting—it was being devoured.
Every attack Darren launched was surgical, savage, relentless. He never gave room to breathe, never gave an opening to recover. It wasn’t just raw power—it was brutality, refined into an art.
Crocodile tried to move. Nothing responded.
His arms were shattered. Ribs cracked. Organs wrecked.
Even the act of breathing hurt.
Darren stood at the crater’s edge, gazing down at him.
"Now do you get it?" he said quietly.
"This is the New World."
He took a slow drag from his cigar, smoke curling upward.
"It’s not some playground in Paradise."