Vice Commander of the Knights of God?
Darren rolled the title over in his mind, eyes narrowing. The "Holy" styling left no doubt—the man before him, so reminiscent of Red-Hair, was a Celestial Dragon.
The Knights of God: one of the Government's most secretive and formidable orders, composed entirely of elite World Nobles with the authority to judge their own kind and safeguard their supremacy. If this man was its vice commander, he stood near the summit of Celestial Dragon power.
Figarland Garling.
Darren knew the name—the champion of God Valley, the victor of that cataclysm. He hadn't expected to meet him here.
A test, then?
He eyed the offered hand and the black leather glove that covered it, a cold smile tugging at his mouth.
The man's manner was easy, almost warm, nothing like the piggish nobles Darren had seen before. But he hadn't removed his glove.
Beneath the pleasant facade, his contempt for common humanity burned far hotter than theirs.
"Figarland Garling, Excellency," Darren said, grinning. "Sneaking up behind a battle-hardened Marine isn't exactly good manners, is it?"
So the man wanted to begin with a show of teeth. Fine—Darren would oblige.
Garling paused, then let a playful smile bloom.
Their eyes locked.
Their hands met.
BOOM.
At once, a crimson gleam flickered in both their eyes. Fighting spirit vaulted skyward.
Black-red lightning ripped the air and blew outward in a storm. Stone groaned and split; blue roofs and white walls shuddered, dust sifting down in sheets.
Suffocating pressure rolled through several blocks. Even the nearby CP agents buckled to one knee, eyes wide.
"Vice Admiral Darren—an impressive spirit," Garling said smoothly, that elegant smile unchanged, though his gaze had grown darker. Blood-moon hair whipped in the gusts.
So young, and his Conqueror's Haki meets my own.
Worthy of the epithet "the Marines' greatest prodigy in eight hundred years," a monster sealed away in the Government's secret annals.
"Likewise," Darren replied, cigar-tip flaring and dimming in the wind.
This Celestial Dragon's strength was excessive—at least at the admiral's tier in Conqueror's Haki. What unsettled Darren more was how the man had slipped behind him without a whisper. Even with Observation Haki active, he'd sensed nothing. It had never happened before, not like this.
If he chose to strike from behind… he might not kill me, but he'd land a mortal blow.
Garling's eyes flashed at Darren's cool tone.
Arrogant, just as the rumors say.
I'm not merely a Celestial Dragon. I sit among the very highest of them.
The Knights of God can judge—and execute—our own.
Does he truly believe that awakening Conqueror's Haki makes him my equal?
A sneer bent Garling's lip as his grip tightened.
Then the smile froze.
The hand was all hardness and weight—like grasping cut diamond.
Worse, a swelling force pressed back along his fingers, and for a moment he felt he was struggling against a giant of war. Heat crept up his face.
Rip.
Leather exploded into black shreds that pattered to the ground.
Darren let go, easing his aura. "My apologies, Excellency Figarland Garling," he said with a pleasant sincerity. "I was careless and ruined your glove. I'll make it up to you."
Garling's eyelid twitched. He forced a thin smile. "No need. Vice Admiral Darren's reputation is well earned."
He drew a slow breath and hid the reddened hand behind his back. "In that case, entrusting the upcoming escort mission to you should guarantee success."
Escort mission? Darren's eyes flickered.
So his elevation to admiral hinged on a single escort? And the cargo… a Celestial Dragon?
Garling watched the thought pass and let his smile sharpen. "Vice Admiral Darren isn't aware yet, I see."
"The nobles of the Holy Land are about to hold a grand Hunting Competition—complete with extravagant prizes, including potent Devil Fruits."
"An event of that scale requires an officer of your caliber to ensure security."
A hunting competition for the World Nobles.
Darren's heart sank.
These fools never learn.
Only twelve years after God Valley and already back to preening—and begging catastrophe.
Working with Dragon and Bartholomew Kuma, Darren had learned the truth: those nobles' games had sparked the God Valley massacre. A genocide without a shred of humanity.
So this was the Gorosei's condition: escort the "competition."
A loyalty test.
He'd never imagined the Government would lean so shamelessly into compliance games.
Anger simmered, slow and hot, but Darren's eyes stayed calm. He smiled at Garling. "A grand occasion indeed."
"This subordinate will not disappoint Your Excellencies' expectations."
He turned and walked toward Pangaea Castle.
Garling's cold smile deepened as he watched him go. "I'm looking forward to it, Rogers Darren… to the moment you learn where the hunt will take place. Your face should be quite something."
---
Darren moved on.
The white city fell away behind him, giving way to rolling green.
Garling's words—and that mocking smile—rang in his mind, filling him with a nameless foreboding.
A colossal white stairway rose on the horizon, climbing from earth toward the sea of clouds. An ancient fortress loomed faintly above.
Colossal statues lined the climb, stone gods watching with impassive eyes as all who dared set foot upon this "Stairway to Heaven."
Darren stopped.
His fingers twitched. He'd guessed something.
Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.
Pale figures ghosted into being around him—their overlapping auras closing every exit.
"Vice Admiral Darren, the Gorosei summon you," the lead CP0 said through his mask, menace threaded through the rasp.
"If I refuse," Darren asked mildly, "you'll force me?" His glance slid across them. "You certain you can?"
Even masked, they flinched under that gaze, shuffling back a step as if facing a beast.
"Never mind," Darren murmured, and took another step forward.
With each stride, his presence swelled, rising like a storm tide. By the time he reached the gleaming stairway, the air itself felt charged—winds heaved, seas hammered the cliffs, lightning tore the sky.
CP0 stared in horror, pulses racing.
In the distance, Steel Bone Kong watched in silence, fist clenched hard at his side.
The Stairway to Heaven spanned earth and sky, awe carved into its endless white steps. Against that eight-century monument, Darren's battered frame looked small. Yet he stood like a mountain.
Then a deep, imperious voice rolled across Mary Geoise:
"Vice Admiral Rogers Darren of Marine Headquarters, the 'King of the North Blue'… pays his respects to the Gorosei!"
To be continued...