Five seconds later—
Boom!
Gecko Moria slammed into the earth like a meteor. The impact gouged out a crater fifty meters wide, pulverizing everything within reach.
He coughed blood, groaning as he tried to push himself upright—
Thud!
A gleaming black military boot came down on his head, driving his skull straight back into the shattered ground. The shockwave split the earth, scattering stone and dust like shrapnel.
"Ugh—!!" Moria's body convulsed as blood poured from his nose and mouth, his pupils dilating in shock.
"If you're that eager to die," Darren's deep voice rumbled above him, "I won't stop you."
He ground his heel down harder, pressing Moria's head into the dirt. A lit cigar hung from his lips, the tip glowing red as he exhaled a slow stream of smoke. His tone was casual, almost lazy, but the look in his eyes was pure contempt.
"So… which arm should I take this time?"
He glanced down, mockingly thoughtful. "Oh, right. You've only got one left."
Moria froze.
The man's gaze was colder than any battlefield—a butcher studying his next cut of meat. Every nerve in Moria's body screamed as icy dread surged up his spine.
"I… I…"
His face flushed red, his tongue stumbling over itself.
Inside, fury boiled.
This isn't how it's supposed to go!
He had pictured this so differently—he'd show courage, fight to the end, Darren would acknowledge him, maybe even toss him a line about potential. They'd exchange a few token blows, he'd cry out "I understand!" and walk away a changed man, like Mihawk.
But no—no epiphany, no enlightenment. Just pain. Endless, humiliating pain.
So why did that damn brat Mihawk "understand" so easily?!
Momonga, standing off to the side, sighed as if he'd seen it all before.
You just had to copy him, didn't you? he thought dryly. Well, this is what you get.
"Hm?" Darren cocked his head, cigar between his teeth. "Still not talking?" His voice dropped a degree colder. "Then maybe I'll just break the other arm too."
"No!!" Moria jerked violently, panic flashing in his eyes. If he lost that arm—his last arm—his career, his power, everything he'd built would be gone.
"I am Gecko Moria!" he roared suddenly, his voice echoing with desperate defiance.
Boom!
A purple aura burst from his body, swirling into a storm that whipped up the dust around them. Shadows bled from the ground, coalescing into hundreds of fluttering bats that surged into the air, forming a massive, writhing net of darkness.
Darren's brows lifted, a flicker of genuine surprise in his eyes.
This guy's Haki and Devil Fruit ability… they've both grown stronger since our last fight.
He snorted softly. First Mihawk, now Moria. Am I some kind of walking enlightenment trigger?
As the storm of shadows bore down on him, Darren's eyes narrowed.
"Enough."
His own Conqueror's Haki burst outward, crimson lightning crackling through the air. The pressure crushed Moria's aura flat, scattering the shadow bats into mist.
Darren's boot pressed down again, driving the pirate's head into the dirt. His voice came cold and absolute.
"Listen up, Gecko Moria."
"From now on, you will become stronger. You will take a seat among the Shichibukai."
"And if you fail…" Darren leaned closer, smoke curling from his cigar as he spoke in a low, deadly growl. "…I'll kill you."
He lifted his boot, then brought it down again—
BOOM!!
The earth shook, sending a plume of dust spiraling into the sky.
When the air cleared, Moria was sprawled motionless at the bottom of the crater, his body twisted, barely breathing.
Momonga winced, grimacing at the sight. "You didn't… completely cripple him, did you?"
Darren brushed off his hands and chuckled. "I held back."
Momonga blinked. Then, staring down at what looked like a mangled corpse, muttered under his breath, "That's your idea of holding back...?"
Darren shrugged. "If he's finished, someone else will take his seat. The seas aren't short on monsters."
That much was true. On the Grand Line, there was always another contender waiting in the wings.
Momonga nodded faintly, then asked, "What now? What about the Government's mission?"
"Just go through the motions," Darren said dryly. "The World Government doesn't care who dies out here. I wouldn't be surprised if the Gorosei have already drafted a new list of candidates."
Momonga had no argument for that.
Darren's eyes narrowed, a glint of calculation behind them. "Speaking of which… I'll need that new list soon. If Doffy's still not on it, we'll have him execute the plan himself."
Momonga's expression hardened. That plan—the one only the highest circles of the Marines and Cipher Pol whispered about—was a powder keg. Mishandled, it could shake the world itself.
"Understood," he said quietly, fists clenching at his sides.
"Relax," Darren said with a grin, giving his comrade a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "No need to look so grim. Anyway, I'll head to G-5 soon. Can't delay the transfer any longer, or I'll lose face."
Momonga nodded. Darren had announced his transfer to the New World's G-5 Branch months ago, but one "incident" after another had postponed it. It was about time he made good on his word.
"Oh, that reminds me," Momonga said suddenly, lowering his voice. "Doflamingo… he's already slipped one of his men into the Marines. That guy Vergo—the one who's always got food stuck to his cheek."
"I know," Darren replied, smiling faintly.
"You do?" Momonga's brows furrowed.
"Of course." Darren's grin widened slightly, a strange gleam flickering in his eyes. "He's going to be my student soon."
Momonga: ???
He stared in disbelief.
This guy... is he seriously planning to make a career out of this "teacher" thing?
As if reading his thoughts, Darren gave a relaxed laugh. "Zephyr-sensei's expanding the Training Camp program. He's experimenting with new teaching methods and asked me to join as a special instructor."
Momonga just stood there, speechless, watching the smoke rise from the crater where Gecko Moria lay half-dead.
Zephyr-sensei, he thought numbly, I hope you know what you're unleashing on your students.
To be continued...