Deserted Island.
A violent shockwave burst outward, black-red lightning crackling as Whitebeard roared—half god, half demon. His golden hair, like a king’s crown, whipped in the wind. Gripping Murakumogiri in both hands, he hewed down in a thunderous arc that shook sky and earth.
"Little brat Darren! You’re nowhere near strong enough to stop Whitebeard!"
BOOM!
The world shuddered. For an instant, ti stalled—then a storm erupted and raced across a kiloter in a blink.
Crack... BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
From above, the scene was apocalyptic:
Within a kiloter, soil, forest, and stone tore loose. The island’s crust sagged by ters under the pressure, the bedrock groaning. Black-red lightning sheeted upward until the heavens looked like a flaming net cast over purgatory.
Then—
A towering figure shot out of that hell, heels gouging a trench hundreds of ters long before he slid to a halt.
Blood traced the corner of Darren’s mouth; his forearms were split and bleeding, red drips pattering the dirt. He drew a ragged breath—and laughed, wild and unbowed.
"Hahahaha! This is it! This is the feeling I’ve been looking for!"
"The World’s Strongest... every second feels like staring death in the face, heart out of control."
Teeth pinked with blood, Darren’s eyes burned. His whole body trembled with exhilaration.
"Whitebeard! After Roger and Golden Lion, you’re only the third to put this kind of pressure on !"
At the sa ti he felt it—each clash with Whitebeard tightened his Armant, forging it stroke by stroke.
Armant Haki: 0.301!
Armant Haki: 0.249!
That’s it.
The body data, dormant so long, surged awake.
Darren tried to choke back a laugh and failed.
Breaking limits to reach higher power—this was the body’s most primal hunger.
Whitebeard stared at the frenzied Vice Admiral, montarily taken aback. Then a flicker of gravity entered his eyes.
That look—pure, delighted appetite.
He was enjoying this beating.
Even pinned and bleeding...
"What a madman..."
Whitebeard’s brows knit.
Darren’s power had surpassed his expectations. That diamond-hard fra and brute force—the kind that rivaled the Giants—made him deadly up close. And the Haki—far sharper than last ti.
He narrowed his eyes at the black-red static crawling over Darren’s form. Cracks spidered from their feet. A weight settled in Whitebeard’s gut.
His presence... his will... they were starting to warp the air. One step from the ultimate realm.
Across decades at sea, Whitebeard had asured monsters. Charlotte Linlin—born destroyer, a fortress of flesh. Kaido—prodigy in every dinsion: stamina, defense, speed, raw strength.
But this Marine... this freak.
The rate of growth was absurd—beyond even Linlin or Kaido. As if a thousand legendary teachers stood over his shoulder, honing him toward a complete power.
If the brat’s Haki weren’t still behind his own, suppressing him would have been a fight.
In pure strength, speed, and skill, the kid’s body let him et Whitebeard head-on.
A faint tingle needled Whitebeard’s knuckles on Murakumogiri’s haft. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t afford to be stalled any longer.
Through Observation, he felt the crew straining against the Warlords at the far shore—holding, but barely. Worse was the prickle at the back of his mind: with every exchange, the Marine’s power kept climbing.
Enough.
His gaze darkened.
Darren drew a slow breath; everything about him went very still.
Thud.
He stepped in. Sothing shifted. A sinister crimson light ca into his eyes.
Muscle flowed under his skin like lted tal, swelling and hardening to a cold sheen as his Demon Form amplified him. He lowered his weight—one hand forward, one back—like a great cat stalking. Three fingers curled tight.
"Demon Dragon Claw!"
Black hair stirred as he tipped his sharp chin, a feral smile pulling tight. A plu of white breath left his lips.
"Now let’s tear each other apart."
The smile flashed; his gaze lifted.
Whitebeard’s eyes narrowed.
BOOM!!
Dust columns erupted beneath Darren’s feet. With a splitting roar, the demon-dragon blurred and vanished.
So fast!!
Pure strength converted to instant speed?
Crimson light flared in Whitebeard’s pupils. He slashed at empty air to his left on instinct—
BOOM!!
A domineering black dragon claw crashed down; Murakumogiri t it in a vortex of screaming wind.
The shock drove Whitebeard back a pace. His expression edged grim—so this was the kid’s true speed and weight.
"Hahahaha! Co on, Whitebeard! Show what ’World’s Strongest Man’ really ans!"
Darren vanished again, a pitch-black hurricane carving circles around him, strikes falling in a relentless cascade.
Dragon claws scored the ground in jagged trenches. Murakumogiri swept and turned, parrying, cutting, slipping—yet lines began to open across Whitebeard’s body, shallow and deep.
"You’re asking for death!" Whitebeard roared. The naginata cut across the dragon claw—and his left fist blood with a milky-white aura.
"Quake..."
A seismic blast, laced with crimson-black thunder and Whitebeard’s rage, hamred toward Darren’s chest.
Death bore down. Darren bared his teeth, eyes flaring, and t it head-on.
"Demon Dragon... Breath!!"
A jet-black shockwave erupted from his claw and detonated.
Fist t talon.
BOOM!!
The island bucked. Mountains crumbled. The cloud sea split.
The cataclysm snapped eyes from far-off battles.
"That Marine... he’s beco this strong?!" Vista muttered, face set.
Jozu stared, disbelief stark.
To be continued...
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