Moria’s pupils shrank to pinpoints, his grin freezing mid-sneer. The sight before him simply didn’t compute.
That hand—thick, scarred, and effortlessly steady—had just torn through his Shadow Box, a construct he’d always considered unbreakable, the ultimate expression of his Devil Fruit mastery.
No Armant Haki. No tricks. Just brute, monstrous force.
Impossible...!
Before he could even process what he was seeing, that sa hand gripped the jagged tear in the cube’s surface and ripped it wider with a guttural Riiip! The darkness split open like cloth under a blade, dissolving into mist.
And out of it stepped Darren, tall and broad-shouldered, brushing a speck of dust from his sleeve as though erging from a stroll, not a battlefield.
Moria staggered back a step. "How—how is this possible?!" His bloodshot eyes darted to Darren’s torso. He had seen the Shadow’s Spear impale him dead center—yet there wasn’t even a scratch. Not a drop of blood.
Darren raised his brows. "Hey," he said mildly, reaching into his coat for a cigar. "Ambushing a guy like that really hurts, you know?"
He bit the cigar, struck a match, and lit up, exhaling a slow curl of smoke.
Momonga could only stare, a faint twitch in his jaw.
Why does this guy always have to look so damned smug about it?
"Impossible!" Moria snarled. His hands slamd together again, shadow surging like ink at his feet. "Shadow’s Spear!"
A new spear of darkness shot forward, faster than before—only to et Darren’s abdon with a deafening clang. Sparks burst outward as if tal had struck tal, and the weapon disintegrated on impact.
Moria froze.
"...What?"
The shadow dissipated into nothing, leaving Darren standing there, unbothered, a small frown crossing his face as he tapped ash from his cigar.
"I told you," Darren said evenly. "That hurt like hell. Almost broke the skin, even."
Momonga rubbed his temple. Is this man... incapable of being normal for five seconds?
Moria’s breath ca sharp and ragged, his expression twisting between disbelief and outrage.
"No..." He clenched his teeth, veins bulging at his temples. "I don’t believe it!"
"Shadow’s Spear!"
Another spear. Another clang. Another useless burst of sparks.
"Shadow’s Spear! Shadow’s Spear! Shadow’s Spear!"
He scread the words like a madman, throwing everything he had into each attack. One after another, the spears fired and shattered, filling the air with tallic thunder—but Darren didn’t budge. Not once.
By the ninth strike, Moria’s breathing had turned ragged. His body trembled with exhaustion, and sweat trickled down his pale skin.
He slumped forward slightly, hands on his knees, gasping for air.
"Well," Darren drawled, yawning as he flicked away his finished cigar. "Got any other tricks up your sleeve?"
Moria’s head snapped up, fury and disbelief warring in his eyes.
"If not," Darren added, stretching lazily, "I’m afraid playti’s over."
For a man like Moria—still in his pri, still drunk on his own pride—words like that hit harder than any weapon. Darren’s strength alone wasn’t enough; to truly crush him, he had to shatter his ego, leave him no illusions of equality.
And so he waited. Calm. Patient.
Predictably, Moria’s rage drowned out his fear.
"Kishishishishi!" he cackled, straightening up, his chest heaving. "No wonder they call you the King of the North Blue! Your power is truly terrifying..."
His bloodshot eyes glead with manic fervor. "But that’s exactly why defeating you will prove my worth!"
Darren blinked. Momonga sighed.
They exchanged a look. Both saw the sa thought mirrored there: This guy’s a total idiot.
"Every so-called ’hero’ from the old era had a screw loose," Darren muttered.
Moria ignored them both. He raised his massive, jagged blade, voice booming. "You’ve honed your body to this level... but let’s see how you handle the true power that crowned ruler of the West Blue!"
Then ca the boom.
An invisible wave exploded outward from Moria’s body, sweeping through the air like a purple hurricane. The ground trembled; the sky itself seed to dim beneath its weight.
Momonga’s eyes widened. "That’s—Conqueror’s Haki!?"
Even Darren’s gaze sharpened.
So the rumors hadn’t been exaggerated. Before his downfall to Kaido, Moria had once possessed a king’s will—the rarest, most domineering force on the sea.
The air thickened as that will pressed down on him, a storm of raw intent and authority. For a fleeting mont, Darren’s blood stirred in response. A spark lit deep within his chest, hot and bright.
Ah... so that’s how it is.
The wills of kings never coexisted peacefully. When they t, they collided. Clashed. Tested one another until one side broke.
Moria’s grin stretched wide as he saw Darren’s frown. "Kishishishi! You feel it, don’t you?" he shouted. "This is Conqueror’s Haki! The power of a true king!"
He threw back his head in laughter. "A power you obedient Marine dogs could never—"
His voice cut off.
BOOM!
The very air cracked like thunder as a second wave erupted from Darren’s body—colossal, suffocating, ancient. His Conqueror’s Haki surged forth like a blood-red ocean, swallowing Moria’s purple haze in an instant.
The shockwave rolled outward in concentric rings, flattening debris and snapping shattered masts like twigs.
Moria’s breath hitched. His knees trembled. His Haki—his pride, his will—was crushed utterly, swept away as if it had never existed.
"Wha... what—"
He never finished the sentence.
Darren moved.
The ground cracked under his step. A dull, earth-shaking boom resounded as the entire plaza dipped several ters, stone fracturing like glass. Dust and pebbles shot skyward in a violent gust.
Momonga’s eyes widened, the corner of his mouth twitching.
Pure physical strength... he made the ground collapse just by moving.
Moria’s heart lurched in his chest. Every instinct scread danger as the Marine’s shadow fell across him.
This monster...!
The air trembled again as Darren’s gaze locked on him, cold and steady.
And for the first ti, the proud ruler of West Blue felt sothing he hadn’t known in years.
Fear.
To be continued...
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