Crocodile’s pupils constricted, lightning-struck.
His mind blanked, expression vacant with disbelief.
Across from him, Darren’s cold smirk deepened.
This arrogant brat—he’d rampaged his way through Paradise, tearing through the weaker half of the Grand Line without meeting true resistance. The established powers of the New World were too occupied with their own rivalries—many of them had already clashed with Darren in the past—to bother with an upstart like Crocodile.
He’d made it this far without ever being humbled.
And that arrogance had led him here—to a battlefield he didn’t understand—demanding Marine reinforcements like he was calling for servants.
To be fair, Crocodile wasn’t weak.
Darren had watched his earlier fight closely. His mastery of the Logia, tactical awareness, and lethal instincts could give even elite Vice Admirals trouble.
But that was his limit.
Below Admiral level, battles could be decided by variables—terrain, luck, unorthodox abilities. But once you crossed that threshold...
It was no longer a fight.
"If you can’t reach Admiral level," Darren murmured, voice low and cold, "then you’re just another name waiting to be crossed out."
Aside from freaks like Sakazuki, Borsalino—and himself—no one stood a chance against true monsters of that tier.
"Farewell, Crocodile."
A cruel gleam sparked in Darren’s eyes.
He raised one boot—black with hardened Haki, like a war god’s executioner—casting a shadow over Crocodile’s blood-slicked face.
Crocodile’s breath hitched.
That foot radiated death.
He gritted his teeth, tears pricking the corners of his eyes—not from fear, but from searing, bitter frustration.
He hadn’t even faced Whitebeard yet.
And now, he was about to die here?
His pride wouldn’t let him beg.
Not even for his life.
Darren’s smirk widened.
The boot came crashing down—
Crocodile shut his eyes.
Tokikake and the Marines turned away, unable to watch the grisly end.
A violent shockwave tore through the air, but the sound that followed wasn’t the crack of skull against earth.
It was metal on metal.
Wind erupted outward in a roaring blast, Crocodile’s hair whipping in the force.
A pristine white shoe had blocked Darren’s descending boot.
The impact sent tremors across the battlefield. Crocodile’s eyes widened.
Standing before him was a figure wrapped in flowing white silk, face hidden behind a grotesquely patterned mask.
"CP0?!" Tokikake choked out, his voice cracking with disbelief.
The man stood motionless, gaunt and silent, like a wraith from the underworld.
"I thought you’d keep hiding up there, watching the show," Darren said, his smirk unchanged. "Guess I hit your threshold."
Truth was, Darren had sensed him the moment he landed. The man had masked his presence expertly—almost flawlessly.
But ever since Katakuri had nearly killed him, Darren’s Observation Haki had evolved. He had developed something more—Magnetic Field Sensing.
With it, nothing escaped his notice.
The CP0 agent spoke, voice hoarse and devoid of emotion. "Crocodile is the World Government’s chosen candidate. I can’t allow you to kill him."
Darren raised an eyebrow—and pressed down harder. Read full story at 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕝⁂𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖⁂𝕟𝕖𝕥
The masked man faltered slightly beneath the pressure.
He’s stronger than intelligence reports indicated...
"The government’s about to begin a new initiative," Darren said coolly. "They’re choosing pirates with enough power to be granted legal authority to plunder. In exchange, they’ll serve the government when needed."
Tokikake and the Marines turned ashen.
That was more than a betrayal—it was an insult.
The Marines existed to crush pirates, to uphold justice. This made a mockery of their very mission.
"So that’s how it is..." Darren mused, voice soft but sharp as a blade. "The government doesn’t trust us anymore. They think the Marines aren’t strong enough. So now they’re crawling to criminals and handing them legitimacy like scraps to a dog?"
The CP0 agent didn’t flinch. "This is not your concern. I act on orders from the World Government. As a Marine, you will obey."
"Crocodile is under special evaluation. Until a final decision is made, no one is permitted to harm him."
Darren’s expression shifted.
Gone was the contempt.
A smile curled at the corner of his mouth. Gentle. Compliant.
"I see," he said mildly. "So the government’s been watching him all along. Even let him send a distress call. All part of the test."
"You could put it that way," the CP0 agent replied, oblivious to the storm behind Darren’s eyes.
"Fine," Darren said, nodding. "If it’s a direct order from the Gorosei..."
He stepped back, withdrawing his foot.
Crocodile exhaled shakily, relief flooding his exhausted body.
"I’ll obey," Darren said, lips curling into a polite smile.
His fingers clenched.
The Three-Fingered Dragon Claw shot out in a blur, piercing straight through the CP0 agent’s chest.
Blood gushed out in a crimson spray.
A living mass of flesh pulsed in Darren’s hand—his claw wrapped around the man’s heart.
The Marines stared, stunned.
Crocodile’s eyes trembled.
The CP0 agent didn’t scream.
He stood frozen, the realization only now crashing through his mind.
"You dare give me orders?" Darren asked softly.
Blood splattered across his face like war paint.