The sun blazed over the training grounds, baking the earth and sending waves of heat through the swirling dust. Amidst this furnace of heat and haze, three powerful silhouettes launched a ferocious assault on a lone black-haired Marine standing at the center of the field.
Their coordination was seamless, their movements razor-sharp. Every punch, every strike, operated at peak speed and power—an attack formation honed to perfection.
The crisp white capes of three Marine Headquarters Lieutenant Commanders fluttered with their every move, snapping violently in the wind, as though trying to match the intensity of their offensive.
Yet the man they were attacking—
Half-naked, muscles carved like stone, a smug grin playing at his lips—
—stood completely at ease.
And the three coming at him with full force?
Gion, Tokikake, and Momonga.
To the untrained eye, it might've looked like a fair match—three against one. But anyone watching closely would've noticed something strange.
Despite their numbers, sweat streamed from all three of them. Their breathing was uneven, brows furrowed with pressure.
And yet... it felt like they were the ones being overwhelmed.
Darren chuckled, casually swatting away a punch as if brushing off dust.
"Come on, Tokikake. What is this? Did you skip breakfast? That punch felt like a feather tickle."
The mockery cut deep.
"Darren, you bastard! What the hell did you just say?!" Tokikake snapped, furious.
The sharp whoosh of blades slicing through the air came from behind.
Without even turning around, Darren tilted his body to the side, neatly dodging the dual sword strikes from Gion and Momonga.
A cocky grin lit up his face.
"Seriously? That soft? You sure you're even a man, dog-breath?"
And just for good measure, his gaze dipped pointedly toward Tokikake's lower body—a look so layered in disrespect, it could've driven any proud man insane.
"You're dead, Darren!! I'm gonna end you!!"
As expected, Tokikake snapped.
His body erupted in steam, nostrils flaring with white smoke. He charged like a maddened bull, tearing through the ground with such force that the earth beneath his feet exploded, forming a massive crater over five meters wide.
He was a blur of motion—launched like a cannonball straight at Darren.
A dull thud echoed across the field.
For a split second, Tokikake stood frozen. His fist had landed square on Darren's jaw, snapping the man's head back with explosive force. Blood sprayed.
Had he... actually landed a hit?
Then he saw it—that smile.
Darren's head was tilted back, blood trickling down the corner of his mouth... but his expression was that of a man delighted.
A mad glint flickered in his eyes. He wasn't hurt. He was thrilled.
"Not bad," Darren murmured, voice low and electric. "I actually felt that one."
The sound slithered into Tokikake's ears like the hiss of a devil.
Darren headbutted him—hard.
Blood exploded from Tokikake's forehead as his world spun.
Before he could even fall, a gloved hand filled his blurred vision.
"Not the face!!" Tokikake howled instinctively.
Darren seized him by the face and slammed him into the ground like a hammer driving a nail.
The earth cracked outward in a thirty-meter radius. Dust exploded into the air as Tokikake's upper body sank deep into the dirt, his legs twitching in the air like an overturned insect.
The shriek of steel rang out.
A blade cut through the smoke—swift, precise, relentless.
Momonga emerged, cloak billowing, military cap shadowing his steely eyes. He gripped his sword with both hands and brought it down in a savage arc.
The gleaming blade carved into Darren's chest, slicing a long, crimson gash.
But Darren just looked down, smirked, and said—
He grinned like it was a compliment—and then drove a knee straight into Momonga's ribs.
The Lieutenant Commander flew backwards like a ragdoll, crashing through three training dummies before slamming into the ground, coughing up blood.
But even before the dust settled, Darren sensed it—a piercing chill from above.
It made his skin crawl.
Cloak whipping behind her as she plummeted from the sky, blade poised, her entire body tightened into the perfect stance.
Her sword, Kinpira, gleamed with raw energy, its tip honed directly on his heart.
This... this was different.
A candidate for admiralcy.
Let's see it, Pink Bunny.
Her sword struck his palm.
The blade cut through his glove, biting into his skin—but Darren held it firm.
Wind howled as the power of her strike scattered the dust.
She screamed, putting everything into that one descending blow. Her blade flared with light, resisting Darren's strength, driving downward—inch by inch—toward his chest.
But she couldn't do it.
No matter how hard she pushed, she couldn't bring the blade down that last centimeter.
It was like trying to force gravity to bend.
Darren exhaled softly—and tightened his grip.
The clash of steel rang out as he yanked the blade to the side. Gion faltered in midair.
His fist drove into her gut like a cannon.
The air rippled around her back as the impact exploded through her body.
Her face went pale. The sword dropped from her hands.
She collapsed to her knees, hands clutching her stomach, blood trickling from her lips.
Blood from Darren's own chest wounds trickled steadily to the dusty ground, quickly swallowed by the earth, leaving dark, muddy stains.
Darren surveyed the scene:
Gion kneeling, wheezing for breath.
Tokikake twitching in a crater.
Momonga crumpled, coughing blood.
"All right. That's enough for today."
He blinked lazily, watching their beaten expressions.
"We'll continue tomorrow."
With that, he turned and walked off toward the command office.
Momonga groaned, rubbing his temples.
Gion lay flat on her back, still gripping her sword.
Tokikake let out a pitiful wail.
It had been two weeks since their return from Jerma Kingdom, where they had "tested" a certain weapon.
And ever since that day—
Darren had dragged them into these brutal "training sessions," claiming it was all to "help them improve."
But to Tokikake, it felt more like... daily humiliation.
The bastard was just finding new ways to bully them.