The ground heaved, a deep tremor running underfoot.
Staring toward the twin auras exploding over the distant mountains, the Whitebeard Pirates could only gape. That Marine Vice Admiral who once couldn't take a single hit from Pops had climbed this far—in barely a year or two?
"Kishishishi! That guy's gone berserk!" Gecko Moria shrieked, purple lightning crawling his massive serrated blade as he hacked at the stunned "Diamond" Jozu.
Clang!
Caught off guard, Jozu tumbled back, rolling across the torn earth before wrenching himself upright.
"Damn it," he growled through his teeth, blood threading from the corner of his mouth.
Through the dust, Moria sauntered forward, greatsword over his shoulder, a cruel grin widening. "Kishishishi! The era of Whitebeard is over!"
"You're the last one who gets to say that!" Jozu roared, eyes bloodshot.
Diamond surged over most of his body and he blasted off like a fired round, slamming into Moria with unstoppable momentum. The impact hurled Moria dozens of meters; blood spattered from his lips.
Panting, Jozu lifted a fist and bellowed, "Rally! We're the Whitebeard Pirates! Our Pops is invincible!"
The shout rolled the line. Backs straightened; eyes lit with fresh resolve. They surged for the Shichibukai, battle cries shaking the air.
Unlike the Shichibukai, who fought alone, the Whitebeard Pirates meshed as one—and the tide began to turn.
Watching, Doflamingo—still making men butcher one another with a flick of his fingers—let a low laugh slip.
"Heh heh heh… The Whitebeard Pirates… maybe they're not as fearsome as they look."
A strange light slid behind his lenses, as if he'd stumbled on some delicious perversion. The smile at his mouth turned mocking.
"Foolish loyalty, camaraderie, fake families, soft little bonds…"
"In the end, it's just an Excellency playing house with children."
"Heh heh heh…"
---
Boom!
A fresh shockwave flung the two figures apart. Whitebeard's breath came hard; bloody gashes crossed his body. He stared across the wreckage at the Marine Vice Admiral, the blood-soaked man radiating a fever-bright intensity.
He's not stopping.
He's still laughing.
"Hahahahaha! What a satisfying blow, Whitebeard!"
The jungle erupted as Bullet came howling through like a berserker. In a blink he was behind Whitebeard, fist cocked for the old man's skull—
Clang!
Murakumogiri caught it, sparks snapping and washing Bullet's blood-smeared face in a furnace glow. Savage joy burned there.
Another monster…
Whitebeard's heart sank. He surged power through his arms and hurled Bullet back.
The kid with the broken arm was iron, too. Not quite at Darren's level, but still standing after taking a direct quake punch.
When did this sea start spitting out monsters by the dozen?
Bullet flipped and landed light beside Darren. He glanced over Darren's pale, blood-slicked form and sneered, "Hey, Darren, you're not about to keel over, are you?"
Darren squinted up, puzzled. "How are you still alive?"
Bullet's grin faltered. "…You're the one who's gonna die," he snapped through his teeth.
Darren chuckled, thin and ragged. His aura was frayed, his face bone-white. Whitebeard at his peak was a force of nature—Roger's equal, maybe beyond him in raw destruction.
The grind had honed his Armament, but the damage was piling up faster than he could push it back.
"Hey," Bullet said, as if remembering, "after this, whatever happens—you're getting that promotion to Admiral, right?"
Darren wiped blood from his cheek and gave a small smile. "Perhaps."
Implementing the Shichibukai system, stopping the Whitebeard Pirates at sea—those results dwarfed any hollow "Admiral Candidate" rank. Whether he jumped straight to Admiral would come down to Sengoku and Kong's resolve.
Bullet nodded, then snorted. "So, teaming up with you again, you bastard…"
Darren's mouth curved, memory flickering. "It does take me back… though this time our opponent isn't as manageable as Kaido."
"Don't drag me down, Bullet," Darren warned.
Stone flowed; Bullet's severed arm re-formed as a rocky limb. He cracked his knuckles and grinned. "Same to you."
Shoulder to shoulder, they fixed on the World's Strongest Man, battle intent blazing.
---
Holy Land Mary Geoise, Pangaea Castle.
The Chamber of Deliberation.
Kong's jaw was tight, breath shuddering as he ground the words out. "Why? The Native Hunting Competition has been dead for years—why revive it now?"
"Weren't the lessons enough, Excellencies?"
The smiles disappeared from the Gorosei's faces.
"Kong, mind your tone."
"Remember where you stand."
"Do you presume to teach us how to rule?"
"The God Valley incident was a grave setback, yes—but that was twelve years ago."
"In the meantime, the Celestial Dragons have grown… bored."
Kong's face went stiff. His teeth clicked together hard enough to crack.
Genocide as entertainment—boredom to cure.
Hoarse, he managed, "Knowing Darren's nature, he'll never obey—"
Saint Saturn's chuckle was ice. "He'll obey."
"That little brat has always been clever—and well-behaved."
Saint Warcury said dryly, "You've spoiled him, Kong."
"For two years you let him turn the North Blue into a personal fief."
Kong's teeth creaked. "He completed his tasks to the letter."
"Under him, crime and piracy in the North Blue fell to historic lows. Royal houses and political elites across the sea commend his policies."
"Is that so?" Saint Nusjuro lifted his gaze, fingers curling over his katana. His voice went thin and sharp. "Then swear to us you knew nothing of the truth behind Darren's murder of the Celestial Dragon—Saint Shaldes."
Kong's pupils shrank.
To be continued...