A cold dread washed over Sengoku as the implications hit him. With a trap like that waiting under the ice, even Kuzan's sea-freezing wouldn't have saved them from catastrophic losses.
Thank goodness that Darren boy still values our old ties, he thought. Otherwise…the consequences would have been unimaginable.
He stared across the wavering heat at the lone figure onshore, licked his dry lips, eased his fist open, and let out a slow, stale breath. Then he spun, rejoined the fray, and roared, eyes burning red:
"All Marines, maintain the coastal blockade! Current targets—Big Mom and Beast Kaido!"
The ranks answered with a thunder of voices, surging to encircle the two Emperors. Relief threaded through the charge.
As long as it isn't Vice Admiral Darren…what are Kaido and Big Mom compared to him?
"Come then, Kaido, Big Mom! Time to settle Miracle Island's score!" Sengoku barked. The doubt in his gaze cleared. He had read Darren's play.
Darren wouldn't raise a hand against the Marines—and they couldn't bring themselves to butcher him either. Yet the Government's orders left them no choice but to act.
Fine, then—drag Kaido and Big Mom here. Relieve the pressure on the fleet. And hand an Admiral another chance to shine.
The subjugation of Big Mom and Beast Kaido.
And, incidentally, a way out of this deadlock.
"You bastard…" Sengoku muttered, weariness edging the fury in his eyes. "Even now, you make me owe you this much…"
Golden radiance surged from him; his silhouette billowed and rose into a towering Daibutsu. With a thunderous bellow he hurled a shockwave at Big Mom.
"Great Buddha: Impact!"
"Mamamama! You've got spirit, Sengoku!" Big Mom crowed, drawing Napoleon in sword form and cleaving down with ruinous force.
"Emperor Sword: Shattering Edge!"
BOOM—!
Lightning-cracked shockwaves tore outward. The ice beneath them split and blew apart in glittering shards.
---
"Comrades…this is my final gift to you."
Amid the whirl of sparks, Darren watched the distant maelstrom of magma, ice, and thunder. A complicated smile touched his mouth.
From the moment he chose to butcher the Celestial Dragons, he'd known there was no way back. He'd branded himself the Government's mortal enemy: a world-class criminal to be hunted, captured, or quietly erased.
If those two maniacs hadn't bitten on his fabricated intel, the four Meito sleeping under the sea would have served as his answer to the fleet. Even if he couldn't sink them, he'd stall them—time enough to fortify the island.
Because for all his ruthlessness, he couldn't stomach drawing steel on old comrades. Not everyone had the madness to flip the table on the World Government, the Gorosei, the Celestial Dragons.
Marines carried too many chains—faith, duty, responsibility. Friends, families, children. Most people don't live for themselves alone. The Government would make pawns of all they loved.
Even if they were driven to turn their blades inward, it wouldn't be entirely their fault.
He exhaled, bit down on a fresh cigar, and lit it.
"So tell me, Saint Saturn—are you truly immortal?"
He thumbed blood from his lip. The pressure rolling off him smothered the nearby flames to embers. Then he turned toward the thing lumbering out of the trees, fully regenerated, and smiled faintly.
"This is a strength you vermin can't comprehend, Darren."
Saturn's hybrid shape loomed, black miasma coiling; his eyes were flat with contempt. "Now do you see? Vermin are vermin—mere insects before a god. You never had a chance."
Darren blew a smoke ring and grinned. "Funny. I wasn't the one hacked apart and losing his temper."
"You—!"
Vessels burst red in Saturn's eyes. He strangled the urge to lash out and flicked a glance to the battle raging over the ice.
"You think luring Kaido and Big Mom here will bog the Marines down and let you escape?"
Darren cocked his head, lifted a hand. "Who said I was running?"
"I'm not done playing."
Murder lit his eyes.
"Fire!"
Saturn's pupils tightened. A shriek like tearing steel split the air—a sword glare streaked in from afar, white ripples trailing like a rocket's wake.
Clang! Clang!
His battered cane snapped up, barely knocking aside the two raging Meito.
Oto and Kogarashi.
"Good reflexes," Darren said, smiling. "Is that all?"
Two more beams—one black, one white—sliced low.
Tch. Tch.
Trees, stone, drifting snowflakes—everything parted cleanly.
So did both of Saturn's arms.
Green blood fountained; two wizened limbs spun away. He staggered, color draining, then black smoke swaddled the wounds as flesh bubbled and knit at speed.
"Even slashes won't stick?" Darren narrowed his eyes. The four peerless blades hovered behind him, keen edges humming.
"How many times must I repeat myself?" Saturn rasped. "Insects can't harm a god." He drew breath, voice turning almost curious. "But I do wonder. The prize list for this Native Hunt is top secret. How did you learn the grand prize was the Float-Float Fruit?"
Darren froze, utterly stunned. What?!
To be continued...