"How is this possible…?"
A tremor ran through Doflamingo as the aura rolling off the man before him pressed like a storm front—power that rivaled his own. Behind his dark lenses, disbelief flickered.
Could it be? A lowly slave—trampled, humiliated, tortured—bearing the "qualities of a king"? He struggled to accept it.
"Doffy," Darren asked suddenly, "what do you think is the fundamental reason Conqueror's Haki awakens?"
He drew a cigar, bit the tip, lit it, and faced the surging pressure like a cliff face meeting the tide—unyielding.
Doflamingo hesitated, then blurted, "Natural talent?"
"No." Darren shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "Talent plays a part, but how much… we'd need further experiments to say."
His voice, smoke-rough and detached, carried through the wind-tossed forest with a chill weight.
"In my view," he went on, "the key is an unwavering will."
"An unwavering… will?" Doflamingo echoed, confusion edged with curiosity.
"Yes," Darren said, glancing at him with a softened, almost distant look. "The courage to defy overwhelming force even if it means breaking yourself. The nerve to stand before the world's most revered powers, fully aware of who they are, and not flinch. Or, when despair grinds you to the edge, the moment your emotions peak and that inner strength erupts."
Doflamingo stilled.
The words dragged up the scene of his own awakening: flames and ramparts, jeers and whips, blood and screams—and above all, a will that refused to bend.
"Of course," Darren added wryly, "without the innate seed, no amount of oppression or frenzy will kindle that spark."
Silence fell. If this analysis slipped out, it would turn the seas on their head. More unsettling was Darren's tone—Celestial Dragons' lives treated as mere variables in an experiment.
So that's why you chose Fisher Tiger?
You knew he had that kind of potential…
"How does it feel, Mr. Tiger?"
Darren turned, a small smile touching his mouth.
Doflamingo followed his gaze.
A towering Fish-Man stepped from the trees, body carved with wounds, eyes unreadable. Blood still dripped from his right hand. Bathed in the dappled light, the Sea Bream Fish-Man looked like a sun painted in red.
"I… killed a Celestial Dragon," Fisher Tiger rasped, voice raw, his gaze lifting to the Marine Vice Admiral.
"Yes. You killed a Celestial Dragon," Darren said with a nod. "How does it feel?"
Tiger stared at his calloused hands, slick with blood, bewilderment flickering over his features.
"It feels… strange."
"I should be terrified. They're the most revered beings in the world. But I don't feel afraid at all."
"Darren-san… should I be afraid?"
Darren smiled, eyes deep with meaning. "That's not a question for me."
"Then who?"
"Ask your own heart."
"My heart…" he murmured.
"My heart says…"
He pressed a palm to his chest, over scars old and new—some silvered, some scabbed, many still bleeding.
More precisely, over the "Hoof of the Celestial Dragon" burned into his flesh.
"…it feels… exhilarating."
A stiff, unfamiliar smile pulled at his lips.
"A joy unlike anything I've known."
"The moment I killed him, I felt every muscle, every cell in my body cheering, screaming victory."
"I even had a ridiculous thought… So the blood of a 'god' is red after all."
Darren chuckled. "Yes. The blood of a god is also red."
Tiger's pupils tightened, as if something had just fallen into place. He fixed his gaze on Darren.
"They're no different from us," Darren said evenly. "In truth, they were never gods to begin with—just people who seized immense power and unearned status."
"Ordinary people…?" Tiger's fists clenched.
"So, Darren-san," he said at last, "after going to such lengths to save me, what do you want?"
He wasn't naïve. Rogers Darren—darling and disgrace of the Marines, iron-handed, power-drunk to some—wouldn't come this far without purpose. He wanted Tiger under his banner.
Darren dispensed with the pretense.
"Mr. Tiger, it's simple."
"A little over a month ago, I visited Fish-Man Island and had a friendly talk with King Neptune."
"Little Shyarly's prophecy says a new era is coming—and Fish-Man Island may face an unprecedented disaster."
"The five million who live there need a leader—or more precisely, they need you to step forward."
"Me?" Fisher Tiger shook his head with a bitter smile. "I'm just a nobody from the Fish-Man District. And now I've stained my hands with Celestial Dragon blood. If I return, I'll only bring trouble on them."
"No one will ever know what happened here," Darren said mildly. "And even if they did, they wouldn't suspect you."
Hope flickered in Tiger's eyes. From almost anyone else, he'd dismiss it. From this man…
He drew a long breath, gaze steadying. "Darren-san, what do you want me to do?"
Darren's grin broadened. Smoke curled from his lips like a coiling dragon. "Fisher Tiger, become one of my Shichibukai."
To be continued...