Silence lingered in the air for a long while before Momonga finally exhaled a heavy breath.
He looked once more toward the tall silhouette standing in front of the window, smoke curling around his face, the fading sun casting long shadows across the office floor.
For just a moment, he felt like he could see the soul hidden inside this so-called "disgrace of the Marines"—scarred, battered, and yet unbroken.
Untamed. Unrelenting.
Always moving forward.
This was the kind of man one could follow for a lifetime.
"Those two have improved a lot recently," Darren said suddenly, breaking the silence.
His gaze had shifted to the training grounds in the distance.
Beneath the crimson sunset, the sand whipped in golden spirals. Beyond the formation drills of the 321st Branch, two figures stood out sharply.
To the left, Gion wielded her golden blade in silence, her cloak dancing behind her as she struck, again and again.
Every swing of Kinpira shimmered like lightning, slashing through incoming projectiles with impossible precision. Sparks bloomed at the edge of every impact.
She was slicing bullets out of the air.
And on the far right—
Tokikake, face flushed and jaw clenched, was hauling a decommissioned patrol vessel across the sand. Inch by inch, he dragged it forward, every vein on his body bulging as if ready to burst.
"I'm not some damn mutt!" he growled between clenched teeth. "I'm not weak!!"
Momonga followed Darren's gaze and couldn't help but chuckle.
"They're traumatized," he said dryly. "You've put such a scar on them they're now obsessed with getting stronger."
"They already are stronger," Darren replied. "They just don't know it yet."
He glanced at Momonga and added silently to himself:
Because the one they're training against... is me.
"Gion, I expected," Darren continued. "She's always been a model student in Sengoku's eyes. But Tokikake... That idiot's got more backbone than I gave him credit for."
Momonga nodded, lifting his glass.
"He's... persistent. After every session, he keeps training on his own. Overloads his schedule like it's nothing."
"Even when you absolutely wreck him, he drags himself back onto the field the next day like nothing happened. It's like the pain doesn't even register anymore."
"He's been beaten down hundreds of times—but he never loses heart."
"There's something admirable about that."
"Well... except his priorities are a little weird."
"Weird?" Darren raised an eyebrow.
"There've been... complaints. He's been spotted entering the female barracks way too often."
There was more Momonga didn't say—that Tokikake had been crashing noble parties under the guise of "civil engagement," only to come back bruised and disheveled... yet always ready to do it again.
Shaking his head, Darren asked:
"How's that Doffy brat doing lately?"
Momonga's tone sharpened.
"Fast progress. In less than half a month, he's seized control of nearly 30% of the North Blue's mafia territories. The Donquixote Family's numbers have doubled, nearing 2,000."
"He rules with blood and fire—merciless to those who resist, generous to those who kneel."
"And all the while... he makes sure to minimize civilian casualties."
"If I hadn't seen it myself, I'd never believe he was only twelve."
"There's something about his methods... that reminds me of someone else."
"Then I chose the right godson."
He took another sip of whiskey.
"But I imagine there's a 'but' coming?"
Momonga gave a resigned sigh.
"...You don't miss a thing."
"Let's hear it," Darren said. "This is the North Blue. The underground here is a tougher nut than most."
"That's exactly it. Donquixote's rise has been so fast, so loud, that the other mafia families have started to panic."
"They've torn up their ceasefires with us. Now they're recruiting like mad, fighting bloody turf wars all across the region—trying to crush the Donquixote Family before it fully takes root."
Darren narrowed his eyes.
"I expected better from them."
That look—Momonga knew it too well.
Someone was about to suffer.
"You're going to intervene?"
Darren chuckled coldly.
"If they had the guts to unite and take him down properly, I wouldn't step in."
"They respected the rules. I would've let the game play out."
"They're breaking the rules. Attacking civilians. Seizing territory like vultures."
He turned away from the window.
"This was meant to be a fair game. When the Donquixote Family overstepped, I personally wiped out over a thousand of their men as punishment."
"If Doflamingo wants to be king of the North Blue underworld, he has to start from zero. I won't help him."
"Donquixote versus the entire North Blue underworld—that was the setup."
"If he fails, then so be it. He never deserved it anyway."
"But these thugs... they've disappointed me."
"They broke my rules."
He muttered, almost to himself:
Momonga took a slow breath.
He didn't ask for further details.
Because in the North Blue, no one breaks Rogers Darren's rules and walks away.
There's no such thing.
Even the house steps onto the table sometimes.
When that happens... the game ends quickly.
The so-called "underground world" is only ever one command away from annihilation.
Darren reached for his uniform, tugging it on with one smooth motion.
"Time to deliver a little gift to my beloved godson."
He adjusted his black tie.
Draped the crisp white Marine coat across his shoulders.
And said, voice cool and sharp:
"Before I leave the North Blue... I'm going to unify its underworld."