North Blue.
Felsek Island.
"...Eliminate all who dare to obstruct us! Control the target at any cost!"
Saint Saturn's icy command cut through the snow-swept landscape, colder than the North Blue wind itself.
Dragon's pupils tightened. His whole body shuddered.
They're insane…
The Gorosei had sunk this low—targeting Darren's wife and children, intending to use them as leverage against him.
"You scum!"
Rage tore out of Dragon's chest. A compressed vortex of wind coalesced in his palm; he hurled it straight at Saint Saturn.
"Storm!"
The instant he moved, murderous light flickered in the Gorosei's eyes.
Mid-flight, the compact spiral swelled into a towering column of wind that detonated in a heartbeat. Everything in its path—rock, snow, trees—was shredded to dust.
"Don't get cocky, Garp's son!"
Saint Mars, transformed into Itsumade, split the sky with a shriek. Beating massive wings, he spewed a crimson pillar of flame from his hooked beak, ramming it into Dragon's wind head-on.
BOOM!
Wind and fire collided and erupted, birthing a hellish firestorm. Waves of scorching air rolled out, forcing Dragon and the others to give ground again and again.
Through the smoke, a dangerous gleam flashed in Dragon's eyes. A prickling sense of crisis clenched his gut. He snapped toward the Marine Vice Admiral facing Saint Warcury in a taut standoff. "Darren, look out!"
The warning was barely spoken when—
BOOM!
The earth split beneath the Vice Admiral's feet.
A grotesque Mongolian Sandworm, dozens of meters tall, tore up from below like a monstrous drill. Its blood-slick maw, ringed with writhing teeth, vomited corrosive slime—and swallowed the Vice Admiral whole in one gulp.
Dragon's expression twisted. Ivankov sucked in a horrified breath. "He got eaten alive!"
But then—
"Shoot it dead."
The voice came cold and imperious from inside the Sandworm's belly.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Four phantom blades lanced across the earth, felling ranks of needle-leaf trees in a single breath. They crossed and circled the roaring Sandworm in a killing dance.
Tch!
Wounds opened everywhere at once. Yellow-green slime splattered as blood and gashes spidered across the beast's hide.
Saint Peter—transformed into the Mongolian Sandworm—had nearly half his body flayed by the four peerless Meito. His massive head reared, howling at the sky.
A beat later, the Marine Vice Admiral burst from the Sandworm's abdomen in a surge of white mist and came down like a meteor toward the massive boar—Fengxi, Saint Warcury's form.
Under Dragon's stunned gaze, the Vice Admiral dropped into an all-out charge: one hand spearing forward, the other drawn back; index and middle fingers pressed together, ring and pinky curled into iron talons.
Dragon Claw Fist.
"Hahahaha! That's my move!"
Dragon froze for a beat, then barked a laugh of triumph.
"Finish him, Da—"
His shout cut short as Itsumade's hulking body slammed him from the side, hurling him into the distant jungle and mowing down a swath of towering trees.
Bang!
Facing the onrushing Vice Admiral, Saint Warcury gave a cold, aristocratic chuckle. Fangs glinting like steel, he thundered forward to meet him.
He was choosing to crash head-on with Darren—whose body was "Indestructible," whose power rivaled a Giant's.
BOOM!!
Two figures, grossly mismatched in size, hit like meteors. A shockwave split the sky. Black and crimson lightning crackled from their Haki-laced clash, rending the clouds.
Bare-chested, the Vice Admiral's muscles bunched like cables. He caught Fengxi's massive tusks in a white-knuckled grip, expression pitiless.
Beneath his arms, muscle rolled like writhing dragons; raw might boomed in the air itself.
The ground within a hundred meters caved and fractured as dust blasted outward.
"Looks like you're not a soft-boiled egg like Saint Saturn—someone who crumbles at the slightest squeeze—Your Excellency Saint Warcury," Darren said, eyes bright with a hunter's gleam.
It had been a long time since he felt this alive.
If Saturn had pushed his Devil Fruit to the extreme with insidious arts like Suppression, the Evil Eye, and poison, then this boar, Fengxi, conveyed a single impression:
Pure, unyielding hardness.
Diamond-like tusks. Hide tough as Kaido's scales. Even standing before it, Darren felt as if there were nothing to dig into.
Even when his Dragon Claw Fist exploded a moment ago, he'd sensed something strange—a force rebounding back through his strike.
It felt as though most of his impact had been reflected by Saint Warcury's Fengxi power.
If not for his absurdly resilient physique, that reflected force alone would have shattered his hands.
A defense like "Damage Reflection," Giant-level strength, and the tangible surge of Conqueror's Haki he'd just seen—Saint Warcury truly deserved his standing as the World Government's supreme judicial authority, the "Warrior God of Justice" commanding every Cipher Pol agency.
Yet the stronger Warcury proved, the hotter Darren's fighting spirit burned.
In the instant their horns met, Darren felt it again—that elusive sensation.
A subtle but real current stirring across his muscles, a ribbon of heat rising from deep within.
Strength +0.03.
The bottleneck that had held since Saturn loosened at last.
Realization hit, and his gaze burned hotter still as he locked with Fengxi's massive eyes—so intent that even Saint Warcury hesitated for a heartbeat.
These Gorosei… what a trove of treasure old men.
"Though I can't fathom where your confidence comes from," Saint Warcury sneered, lantern-like eyes narrowing, "do you really think a washed-up Marine Admiral like you can protect your wife?
"Don't be so naive, Little Brat Darren."
To be continued...