The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History Chapter 423 - 66: You Can Go Find Kaido to Test Your Strengt

"Beast Kaido?!" Dragon’s voice cracked with disbelief. His usually composed expression twisted. "That’s a pirate."

There was no questioning Kaido’s strength. His mastery of the Mythical Zoan, monstrous durability, overwhelming Haki—he stood at the summit of the sea’s combat hierarchy. Even Dragon, now on par with Admirals, would expect to suffer losses in a direct clash. Mythical Zoans weren’t just rare—they were brutally effective in close-quarters combat, far surpassing most Logia advantages when it ca to raw physical dominance.

Still, Kaido? Kaido, of all people?

"Don’t be absurd," Dragon said flatly. "He’s not a teacher. He’s barely civilized."

Darren only smiled.

The Marine system had no shortage of legendary ntors. Zephyr-sensei alone had shaped the golden generation, producing officers who now led fleets across the Grand Line. Garp—Dragon’s own father—might have been the most reckless instructor imaginable, but his fists could crush mountains, and the techniques he passed down were real.

Sengoku had the mind of a general and the discipline of a monk. Kong had personally trained Garp, Zephyr, and Sengoku in their youth—the very pillars of the Marines. Why would Darren need to go to a pirate?

"You’re serious?" Dragon said, incredulous. "Kaido’s got no training thods, no discipline—hell, I doubt he can even spell the word ’ntor’."

Darren’s grin didn’t fade. "Believe it or not, my progress these past months... I owe it all to Kaido’s teachings."

Dragon gave him a long, skeptical look.

"I’m not joking," Darren continued. "If you ever make your way to Wano Country, you’ll see for yourself."

"In my opinion? Kaido might just be a better teacher than Zephyr-sensei or Vice Admiral Garp."

A heavy silence followed.

Dragon didn’t respond right away. He studied Darren’s face, searching for a trace of humor or exaggeration—and found none. The honesty was unnerving.

Kaido... teaching?

It was hard to believe. But Darren wasn’t a fool—and Dragon knew better than to dismiss sothing just because it sounded insane.

He took a deep breath and exhaled smoke through his nose, filing the thought away. If I get the chance... I should pay Wano a visit myself.

Far across the sea, in the shadowed stronghold of Wano Country, Kaido had no idea that Darren’s offhand comnt would soon invite him a storm of complications.

"Wait," Dragon said, eyes narrowing. "Did you say Kaido’s in Wano?"

Darren nodded. "The Beasts Pirates have taken full control. They’ve turned Wano into a weapons factory. The entire country’s been repurposed."

Dragon went still. The news hit hard.

Wano Country’s isolationist traditions made it near impossible to access—but also near impossible to invade. If Kaido had established control over that terrain...

"This changes everything."

Dragon had once served in the upper echelons of Marine command. He knew exactly how dangerous this developnt was. And Kaido, whose ambitions were already unmanageable, now had an entire nation backing his war machine?

He took a long drag from his cigar, silent. The room fell quiet—apart from the soft ticking of the clock and the distant murmur of the Pleasure District below.

When Dragon looked at Darren again, sothing in his gaze had changed. It was half pride... half lancholy.

The brash, reckless youth who had crawled out of the North Blue had grown into a man who could go toe-to-toe with the Great Pirates. And in that sa ti, Dragon’s own ambitions—his grand vision for a freer world—felt like they were slipping further away.

"So..." Dragon said, his voice a little too casual. "Stussy. The Queen of the Pleasure District. What’s that about?"

Darren gave a short laugh. "If I told you it was purely professional, would you believe ?"

Dragon rolled his eyes. Sure. And Kaido’s a master strategist.

"If nothing happened between you two," he snorted, "then I guess pigs can fly."

Darren didn’t argue. He simply smiled and took a sip from his glass.

In truth, Stussy hadn’t even sensed Dragon’s presence in the room earlier. Even Observation Haki had its limits. Sabo and Wapol had snuck into Pangaea Castle without alerting the Gorosei or even Imu. For soone like Dragon—who masked his intent so completely—he might as well be invisible.

If not for Darren’s own enhanced Observation, refined under Katakuri’s brutal tutelage and coupled with his rare biomagnetic field perception, he might not have noticed either.

"So tell ," Darren said suddenly, flicking the ash from his cigar. "You didn’t co all this way just to watch flirt, did you?"

Dragon smirked. "Of course not. There’s soone I want you to et. A comrade. A like-minded soul."

As his words faded, the air behind him rippled—and the atmosphere shifted.

Then he appeared.

No warning. No sound.

Just presence.

A massive figure erged silently from the air itself, as if the space had parted for him.

Darren’s pupils shrank.

That speed... not even a whisper of movent. No displacent, no distortion—he just appeared!

He instinctively clenched his jaw, shoulders tensing.

Dragon grinned slightly, proud of Darren’s reaction.

"This is—"

"Bartholow Kuma," Darren said, his voice low.

The man before him was enormous—easily over seven ters tall. Even among giants of the Marines, Darren and Dragon, both standing near three ters, looked positively dwarfed beside him.

His presence filled the room like a shadow cast by the moon. Imposing. Immovable.

But what struck Darren most wasn’t his power—it was the calm.

Kuma radiated nothing but tranquility.

He had the aura of a mountain: still, vast, and untouchable. A gentle, thoughtful pressure emanated from his every movent.

No bloodlust. No bravado. Just peace.

The very sa man who would one day beco the Shichibukai known as the "Tyrant," the model for the Pacifista, the Paw-Paw Fruit user.

But for now, he was... quiet.

"You... know ?" Kuma asked, scratching his head, a shy smile on his face. His voice was deep but soft, utterly polite. "Nice to et you, Mr. Darren."

He extended his hand.

Darren stared at it for a mont.

His palm was broad, calloused, with a visible pink paw pad at the center.

If I shake this man’s hand, am I about to be launched into orbit?

He hesitated... then reached out and gripped it.

The instant their hands touched—

The world shifted.

To be continued...