Momonga's brow twitched as he watched Gekko Moria swagger and cackle like a madman atop the ruins.
This guy's either got real guts… or no brain at all.
Hadn't he heard the stories? The "King of the North Blue" wasn't some glorified Marine title—it was a warning. Darren had crushed countless opponents, from pirates to revolutionaries, with a brutality that left no room for misunderstanding.
"Maybe," Momonga began, voice edged with restraint, "you should think this through. If you truly anger him, you won't leave the North Blue alive."
He wasn't being kind—just practical. Moria hadn't killed anyone yet, and as one of Darren's selected candidates, the man still had potential value. If Darren decided to wipe him out in a rage, things could get complicated fast.
After all, who knew what would happen to all those stolen shadows if their master died?
"Kishishishi!" Moria threw his head back, laughter echoing across the wrecked base. "Are you serious? What a joke!"
His enormous shadow writhed and surged, responding to his excitement. A dark, oppressive aura burst from him, distorting the air itself.
"I came to the North Blue to challenge him!" he roared, eyes blazing with manic pride. "Marines—stay out of my way, or I'll crush you too!"
Momonga's eyelid twitched. His hand crackled faintly with electricity, his patience wearing thin.
Are all these so-called 'super rookies' this damn arrogant nowadays?
Moria's sneering face screamed untouchable, and for a brief moment, Momonga was tempted to shut him up himself. But before he could move, a sharp boom split the distant sky.
A sonic boom—followed by another.
Something was cutting through the clouds at supersonic speed.
Momonga blinked, the electric arcs flickering out as he lowered his hand. His tone turned dry. "Good luck with that."
Moria's grin faltered. "What—?"
The answer came in a blinding streak of white that tore through the heavens like a falling comet.
BOOM!
The impact shook the ground beneath them. Shockwaves rippled outward, turning debris into projectiles, sending dust and gravel flying.
Moria raised an arm to shield his face, squinting into the haze. His grin returned, wider, sharper.
From within the swirling dust, a heavy, calm voice rumbled.
"Gekko Moria… I've been looking for you."
The towering figure that emerged from the smoke wore the white coat of justice, its hem snapping in the wind. A cigar glowed faintly between his lips, his eyes calm but glinting with amusement.
Darren.
"Heh heh heh… You're faster than I expected," Moria cackled, his excitement almost feverish. "I've been waiting for you, King of the North Blue!"
Before Darren could even respond, Moria's grin widened—and he struck.
The immense shadow behind him erupted into a writhing storm of black bats, shrieking and flapping violently.
"Flying Bats!"
The swarm blotted out the sun, a living tide of razor-toothed darkness. Their screeches filled the air as they dove toward Darren, their crimson eyes glowing like embers.
Darren exhaled lazily, cigar smoke trailing from his mouth. "I really hate being bitten by bats," he muttered. "Vampires, though… I've got no issue with them."
He raised his hand.
The shattered cannon platforms around the base began to warp and twist, metal groaning as his power rippled outward. In an instant, hundreds of steel fragments reshaped into glinting bullets that hovered in the air—then rained down like a storm.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The air filled with the metallic scream of ricochets as the swarm was shredded midair. The bats burst apart into oily black vapor, melting into the ground and slithering back toward Moria like serpents of shadow.
"Kishishishi! Not bad!" Moria laughed, his eyes shining with wild glee. "Yes, that's the kind of fight I want! Anything less would be boring!"
Darren stared at him wordlessly.
He glanced at Momonga, who shrugged, his face the picture of exasperation. Don't look at me—I've got no idea what's wrong with him either.
Darren sighed.
The seas were full of monsters—but what truly made men like Bullet, Crocodile, and Moria dangerous wasn't just their strength. It was their delusion.
They'd grown too used to winning, too used to being unstoppable. Born with gifts, blessed with power, they'd never been forced to understand what true defeat meant.
Until reality crushed them.
Until they met a wall so high it stripped them of everything—pride, confidence, and sanity.
And Darren was about to be that wall.
"Then there's no choice," he murmured, a faint smirk curling his lips. "I'll have to beat some humility into you."
The shift in his tone made the air go still.
Moria froze mid-laugh, the corners of his grin trembling.
What was with that stare? That cold, dissecting gaze—like a surgeon deciding which part of you to cut off first.
And why was the Marine's focus fixed on his hands?
"Damn it!" Moria snarled. "Shadow Warrior!"
The ground beneath him darkened. A second figure rose from his shadow—a towering black duplicate of himself. Its hand formed into a gleaming blade of condensed darkness.
With a screech of wind, the Shadow Warrior lunged.
But Darren's eyes flashed crimson. Observation Haki bloomed like lightning in his mind, tracing every movement before it happened.
He sidestepped cleanly, the shadow blade slicing only the edge of his hair.
"Kishishishi! You fell right into my trap!" Moria crowed, snapping his fingers. "Shadow Box!"
The shadow warrior's grin widened—and then its form melted into a mass of writhing darkness that surged around Darren, swallowing him whole.
A massive black cube slammed into existence with a thundering impact, sealing Darren inside completely.
Moria laughed triumphantly. "Shadow's Spear!"
A pillar of pitch-black energy erupted from his feet, solidifying into a deadly spear that shot straight into the cube. The weapon struck with a deep, resonant crack, its power vibrating through the ground.
"Kishishishishi! Just like that, the so-called 'King of the North Blue' is done for!" Moria roared. "No one survives the Shadow Box once my spear pierces it!"
But nearby, Momonga merely sighed, crossing his arms.
The younger Marines hiding in the rubble glanced between the two, unsure whether to cheer or pray.
And then… the Captain who'd been sitting on a rock the entire time—arms folded, face blank—just stared at Moria like he was the biggest idiot alive.
Moria's grin faltered. "What…?"
Then came the sound.
A low, tearing rip that grew sharper by the second—like steel splitting under pressure.
He turned.
His pupils contracted to pinpoints.
From within the impenetrable cube of shadow, a single hand tore through the darkness as if it were paper.
The tendrils of black dissolved into wisps of smoke, hissing as light poured in.
Darren's voice followed, calm, dangerous, and faintly amused.
"Nice box."
He stepped through the ragged opening, brushing the dust from his coat. "Mind if I return the favor?"
To be continued...