Deserted Island.
A violent shockwave burst outward, black-red lightning crackling as Whitebeard roared—half god, half demon. His golden hair, like a king's crown, whipped in the wind. Gripping Murakumogiri in both hands, he hewed down in a thunderous arc that shook sky and earth.
"Little brat Darren! You're nowhere near strong enough to stop Whitebeard!"
BOOM!
The world shuddered. For an instant, time stalled—then a storm erupted and raced across a kilometer in a blink.
Crack… BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
From above, the scene was apocalyptic:
Within a kilometer, soil, forest, and stone tore loose. The island's crust sagged by meters under the pressure, the bedrock groaning. Black-red lightning sheeted upward until the heavens looked like a flaming net cast over purgatory.
Then—
A towering figure shot out of that hell, heels gouging a trench hundreds of meters long before he slid to a halt.
Blood traced the corner of Darren's mouth; his forearms were split and bleeding, red drips pattering the dirt. He drew a ragged breath—and laughed, wild and unbowed.
"Hahahaha! This is it! This is the feeling I've been looking for!"
"The World's Strongest… every second feels like staring death in the face, heart out of control."
Teeth pinked with blood, Darren's eyes burned. His whole body trembled with exhilaration.
"Whitebeard! After Roger and Golden Lion, you're only the third to put this kind of pressure on me!"
At the same time he felt it—each clash with Whitebeard tightened his Armament, forging it stroke by stroke.
Armament Haki: 0.301!
Armament Haki: 0.249!
That's it.
The body data, dormant so long, surged awake.
Darren tried to choke back a laugh and failed.
Breaking limits to reach higher power—this was the body's most primal hunger.
Whitebeard stared at the frenzied Vice Admiral, momentarily taken aback. Then a flicker of gravity entered his eyes.
That look—pure, delighted appetite.
He was enjoying this beating.
Even pinned and bleeding…
"What a madman…"
Whitebeard's brows knit.
Darren's power had surpassed his expectations. That diamond-hard frame and brute force—the kind that rivaled the Giants—made him deadly up close. And the Haki—far sharper than last time.
He narrowed his eyes at the black-red static crawling over Darren's form. Cracks spidered from their feet. A weight settled in Whitebeard's gut.
His presence… his will… they were starting to warp the air. One step from the ultimate realm.
Across decades at sea, Whitebeard had measured monsters. Charlotte Linlin—born destroyer, a fortress of flesh. Kaido—prodigy in every dimension: stamina, defense, speed, raw strength.
But this Marine… this freak.
The rate of growth was absurd—beyond even Linlin or Kaido. As if a thousand legendary teachers stood over his shoulder, honing him toward a complete power.
If the brat's Haki weren't still behind his own, suppressing him would have been a fight.
In pure strength, speed, and skill, the kid's body let him meet Whitebeard head-on.
A faint tingle needled Whitebeard's knuckles on Murakumogiri's haft. He gritted his teeth. He couldn't afford to be stalled any longer.
Through Observation, he felt the crew straining against the Warlords at the far shore—holding, but barely. Worse was the prickle at the back of his mind: with every exchange, the Marine's power kept climbing.
Enough.
His gaze darkened.
Darren drew a slow breath; everything about him went very still.
Thud.
He stepped in. Something shifted. A sinister crimson light came into his eyes.
Muscle flowed under his skin like melted metal, swelling and hardening to a cold sheen as his Demon Form amplified him. He lowered his weight—one hand forward, one back—like a great cat stalking. Three fingers curled tight.
"Demon Dragon Claw!"
Black hair stirred as he tipped his sharp chin, a feral smile pulling tight. A plume of white breath left his lips.
"Now let's tear each other apart."
The smile flashed; his gaze lifted.
Whitebeard's eyes narrowed.
BOOM!!
Dust columns erupted beneath Darren's feet. With a splitting roar, the demon-dragon blurred and vanished.
So fast!!
Pure strength converted to instant speed?
Crimson light flared in Whitebeard's pupils. He slashed at empty air to his left on instinct—
BOOM!!
A domineering black dragon claw crashed down; Murakumogiri met it in a vortex of screaming wind.
The shock drove Whitebeard back a pace. His expression edged grim—so this was the kid's true speed and weight.
"Hahahaha! Come on, Whitebeard! Show me what 'World's Strongest Man' really means!"
Darren vanished again, a pitch-black hurricane carving circles around him, strikes falling in a relentless cascade.
Dragon claws scored the ground in jagged trenches. Murakumogiri swept and turned, parrying, cutting, slipping—yet lines began to open across Whitebeard's body, shallow and deep.
"You're asking for death!" Whitebeard roared. The naginata cut across the dragon claw—and his left fist bloomed with a milky-white aura.
"Quake…"
A seismic blast, laced with crimson-black thunder and Whitebeard's rage, hammered toward Darren's chest.
Death bore down. Darren bared his teeth, eyes flaring, and met it head-on.
"Demon Dragon… Breath!!"
A jet-black shockwave erupted from his claw and detonated.
Fist met talon.
BOOM!!
The island bucked. Mountains crumbled. The cloud sea split.
The cataclysm snapped eyes from far-off battles.
"That Marine… he's become this strong?!" Vista muttered, face set.
Jozu stared, disbelief stark.
To be continued...