The Base Commander's residence at the 321st Branch.
After completing his brutal training regimen, Darren rinsed off quickly and stepped out of the steaming shower.
He paused in front of the mirror, staring at the lean, scarred body that resembled a panther coiled with raw power.
His stats flashed across his mind:
Devil Fruit Mastery: 71.345
Today's impact-resistance training had added a few new wounds, but most had already scabbed over. By morning, they'd be gone.
He'd gained +0.312 in Constitution, inching ever closer to the milestone of 60 points.
"At this rate," Darren muttered, brows furrowed, "I'll need to drag some naval cannons from the warships into the training grounds."
His eyes fell to the tangled web of scars covering his torso.
With his growing durability, standard sabers and muskets were no longer effective. They barely left red marks on his skin.
During today's drills, most of his injuries had come from Momonga's cannon blasts.
If he wanted to continue increasing his endurance and regeneration, he'd have to up the intensity.
That was the beauty of his perception ability—precise feedback on training.
He could control the exact limit without pushing himself to crippling injury or death. It allowed him to train hard, but smart.
Progress was slower than before, but it was still progress.
And Darren knew—strength was everything.
Even though he now held the title of Supreme Commander of the North Blue, with full authority over the region's Marines...
That meant nothing without power.
Before heading to Marineford's elite Officer Training Program, he needed to turn the North Blue into a solid fortress—his own turf.
More territory meant more access to resources.
Until he mastered Haki, his only path was to raise Strength, Speed, and Constitution.
He wasn't like Sakazuki—a born monster. He had to bleed for it.
From what he estimated, an adult Giant's Strength was around 60.
If he could push Constitution past that same threshold, his base durability would match or even surpass Iron Body—without even using it.
And now... he was close.
Darren had chosen to walk the Monster's Path.
No weaknesses. No blind spots.
A wall of power so absolute, it crushed hope.
With the aid of his unique gift, he would someday attain a body as unbreakable as Kaido's.
"Knock, knock, knock..."
A rap on the door broke his thoughts.
Darren casually threw on a bathrobe and opened the door.
Standing outside was Momonga.
"The ice you requested has arrived."
Darren nodded with a smile. "Thanks for the trouble."
Momonga turned to signal two nearby Marines, who quickly entered with large crates of ice.
The tub was soon filled with glistening shards of frost. The Marines gave Darren a look of quiet admiration before respectfully exiting.
Darren dropped his robe and stepped into the freezing bath without a change in expression, fully submerging his body into the zero-degree water.
Ice baths were his routine.
They promoted blood flow, reduced inflammation, accelerated healing, and soothed soreness.
Momonga, standing beside the tub, shivered just watching.
"...So," Darren asked casually, "what are those two up to now?"
Momonga chuckled. "They're training. I think your 'performance' lit a fire under them."
Darren blinked—then laughed out loud.
"So HQ's golden children have their pride after all."
It made sense. The Marines had their own internal pecking order.
HQ elites looked down on the Grand Line branches. Grand Line Marines looked down on the Blues. And everyone looked down on the remote squads scattered throughout the four seas.
Darren could imagine what was going through their heads.
Born and raised in Marineford. Raised by admirals. Exceptional talents. National treasures.
And yet, here in the "boondocks" of the North Blue, they'd been beaten like schoolchildren.
Of course it would sting.
"They've got pride, all right," Darren muttered. "Guess I hit a nerve."
Momonga hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
"...Are you sure their presence won't complicate things?"
With no one else around, Momonga didn't bother with formalities.
Darren's eyes narrowed slightly.
"This so-called 'inspection' from HQ? It's just theater. Sengoku knows exactly what I've been up to."
"Sending Gion and Tokikake here wasn't about punishment. He wants me to mentor them."
"The third round of Officer Training is starting soon. They're already guaranteed entry. But they need some combat merits to pad their resumes. A little 'polish' before graduation."
"If HQ really wanted to move against me... they wouldn't have sent those two brats. They'd have sent Tsuru herself."
"...Still," he said at last, "your position's getting riskier. HQ might start digging into things. If they do..."
Darren shrugged with a smirk.
"The North Blue? HQ doesn't give a damn about this place."
"And even if they do dig something up—so what?"
"Let them look. Let them see the truth. Let them understand the reality of this sea."
He leaned back in the ice, then shifted topics.
"Speaking of trouble... I heard Vinsmoke Judge has been stirring things up?"
Momonga's expression turned serious.
"Yeah. He's been on a warpath lately—expanding his army, raiding towns, publicly threatening to behead the kings of four North Blue nations, including the Kingdom of Yadis."
Darren's lips curled in a sneer.
"Sounds like he's gotten his hands on some serious tech."
Vinsmoke Judge—formerly a collaborator of the infamous Vegapunk, the man said to be 500 years ahead of his time.
In canon history, after Vegapunk was taken by the World Government, Judge stole part of his research and fled back to the North Blue.
There, he rebuilt Germa 66 and sparked the "Decapitation of the Four Kings" incident—slaughtering the rulers of four nations and commissioning a mural to commemorate it.
"Send him a message," Darren said coldly. "Let him know that Germa 66 doesn't get to run wild in my sea. I don't care if HQ's here to play nice—if he messes with the balance under my command, I'll crush him."
He tapped the edge of the tub with his fingers.
"The one who rules the North Blue... is not Germa 66."
Momonga nodded. But he hesitated again, a strange look passing over his face.
Darren glanced at him.
Momonga took a breath.
"There's... a new group rising in the North Blue. Not pirates—something else. Dangerous. Vicious."
"They've already crushed several of the major mafia families, including the Galleon family. Took over their networks. Their methods are... ruthless."
Darren raised an eyebrow.
"I looked into their background," Momonga continued slowly. "And the results were... strange."
He exhaled, his voice unusually low.
"The leader of this syndicate... is a kid. Barely ten years old."
"Donquixote Doflamingo."