Injured, Darren had said.
The three Headquarters Vice Admirals looked at him—standing tall, his uniform neat, his aura calm and composed—and almost burst out laughing from sheer disbelief.
Injured? The man looked like he'd just returned from a pleasant stroll.
Their gazes drifted toward the distant island where mountains were still collapsing under plumes of dust. Sweat prickled their brows.
One punch.
With a single punch, he'd blasted Douglas Bullet across two kilometers and split a mountain peak in half.
And that was after the impact had already been redirected through Bullet's body. If that punch had landed directly on the mountain...
None of them wanted to imagine what would have happened.
They shivered in unison.
A monster.
That's what this man was—a living weapon, a one-man Buster Call.
Silently, they snapped to attention, saluting. "Yes, Vice Admiral Darren!"
A squad of Marines scrambled down the gangplank, carrying heavy-duty Sea Stone restraints.
"Oh, right," Darren called after them casually. "Make sure those shackles are high-purity. Bullet's trained to resist ordinary Sea Stone. Normal ones won't hold him."
The Vice Admirals twitched. Again.
Monster… they thought grimly. And he's calling another monster "that guy."
As the retrieval team departed for the ruined island, Darren settled comfortably into his chair beside Borsalino, letting the wind brush through his dark hair. His cigar had burned out, so he lit another, accepting a glass of whiskey from a nervous ensign.
He took a sip, exhaled slowly, and leaned back with quiet satisfaction.
Borsalino lounged beside him, that lazy, knowing smile curving his lips. "My, my… you've grown even stronger, Darren."
Darren shrugged. "Just a small improvement."
"Small, he says," Borsalino muttered, amusement glinting behind those ridiculous frog-shaped glasses.
Truthfully, Darren's victory over Bullet hadn't given him any miraculous leap in strength. The Demon Form he'd copied was essentially a temporary overdrive—burning through Haki to unleash hidden reserves of potential.
It wasn't a permanent evolution.
Still, it was an extraordinary technique. Bullet had been right—most people in the world misunderstood Haki. They used it crudely, wrapping it around weapons or skin like armor plating. At best, it let them stand against Logias or reinforce their strikes.
But Bullet's "Demon Form" was different.
It wasn't about coating the body with Haki. It was about fusing with it—forcing the spirit into the flesh until both burned as one. Haki became fuel, igniting every cell, driving the body past its natural limits.
For Bullet, it was revolutionary—a thirty percent leap in power, at the cost of exhausting himself.
For Darren, though, the gains were smaller. His body was already operating so far beyond normal human capacity that even "breaking the limit" offered only a slight edge.
Ten percent, at most.
He flicked ash from his cigar, opening his personal monitoring interface with a thought.
[Physique: 92.112 — Indestructible Body]
[Strength: 83.291 — Giant's Strength]
[Speed: 83.833 — Soru's Divine Speed]
[Devil Fruit Ability Development: 85.894 — Island-Covering]
[Armament Haki: 72.715 — Internal Destruction / Demon Form]
[Observation Haki: 75.121 — Magnetic Field Sensing]
[Conqueror's Haki: 75.577]
Barely any growth.
After Kaido's "training," his Physique had skyrocketed to ninety-one, unlocking the "Indestructible Body." But ever since then, progress had slowed to a crawl. The fight with Golden Lion, and now with Bullet, had only nudged it forward by a fraction.
He sighed. "Looks like I've hit a wall."
He wasn't immortal. Without Kaido's Oni blood, his body would eventually age. If he didn't discover a new way to evolve, that wall might become permanent.
Borsalino gave a long, exaggerated sigh. "You're already a monster, Darren. For the rest of us, that 'wall' you're complaining about would be a lifetime's dream."
Darren smirked, exhaling another puff of smoke. "I'm just curious, Borsalino… how strong are you, really?"
The older man froze mid-sip, then raised his hands in mock surrender. "Don't look at me like that. I'm harmless. Definitely weaker than you."
"Uh-huh." Darren rolled his eyes.
It was impossible to tell when Borsalino was being serious. His slouched posture, his lazy tone—it was all a mask. For all Darren knew, the man could be hiding half the Marine Headquarters' power behind that smile.
If he weren't so wary of provoking Sengoku's right hand, he might've already dragged Kizaru into a spar just to find out.
Still, the mission had been a success. Darren's fight had refined his mastery of Haki, and even if the Demon Form consumed Haki like wildfire, a ten-percent boost in full-power combat wasn't something to dismiss.
He'd just have to save it for emergencies.
A few minutes later, the Vice Admirals returned. Between them, Douglas Bullet hung limp, shackled and unconscious, bloodied but alive. His body was a ruin of bruises and broken bones, his golden hair matted with blood and mud.
Even beaten half to death, his presence still made the air feel heavier.
"Vice Admiral Darren," one of the officers asked cautiously, "what are your orders for the prisoner?"
Darren glanced lazily at the wreck of a man before him, then smiled.
"Lock him up. Feed him well. Treat his injuries."
He took another slow drag from his cigar, eyes glinting with amusement.
"After all," he said, voice smooth and calm, "he's our new Shichibukai."
The Vice Admirals froze. "But… he swore he'd never serve the government!"
Darren chuckled, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "He will."
He blew out a thin stream of smoke, eyes narrowing with quiet certainty.
"I'll give him a reason he can't refuse."
To be continued...