Darren's lips twitched as he stared at the "Personal Attribute Panel," eyes fixed on the line showing his Conqueror's Haki: 89.999.
He let out a silent sigh.
His Conqueror's Haki had already reached 89.999 back on Felsek Island. By all logic, after the brutal battles at Marine Headquarters, he should have gained at least another couple of points—if not broken straight through the 90 mark.
But that hadn't happened.
That tiny, mocking gap of 0.001, so close it hurt to look at, was in reality a chasm he couldn't cross.
Darren knew very well this was no longer something he could brute-force with training. Conqueror's Haki wasn't like Armament or Observation; it wasn't a stat you could grind up just by pushing your body harder.
Looks like I'll have to pay Kaido-sensei a visit soon…
He rubbed his chin, lost in thought.
Roger's strength certainly surpassed Kaido's current level, and his mastery of Conqueror's Haki was deeper and more refined. In theory, Roger would make the better teacher. Their relationship had also improved after the recent clash; it wasn't impossible to imagine seeking "advanced lessons" from him.
The problem was that if Roger got serious mid-training, Darren knew he'd end up half-dead.
Compared to that, letting Kaido—a familiar, T0-tier monster—use him as a sandbag felt… relatively safer.
If he could truly learn Conqueror's Haki coating, he would be willing to take not just three hits, but thirty.
With that thought, Darren slowly exhaled a long breath of stale air.
"They're here?"
Sensing something, he turned his head toward the depths of the jungle and smiled.
Figures began to emerge from between the trees, each one trying to shove another person forward, all of them reluctant to take the lead.
Tokikake, Yamakaji, and the others.
"You go first…"
"Why me? You outrank me!"
"We're not Marines anymore, ranks don't matter!"
"I am not going first! He said 'guidance,' but who knows if he just wants a punching bag?"
"I still get creeped out when Darren smiles like that…"
"I've got a really bad feeling about this…"
"..."
Tokikake and the others pushed and pulled each other, faces flushed with panic.
Watching this pathetic spectacle, Darren snapped, irritation creeping into his voice. "You're the backbone of Marine Headquarters, remember? Where was all this cowardice when you stood up to CP0?"
Dalmatian's eyelid twitched. He muttered under his breath, "I'd honestly rather fight CP0 than deal with you, you monster…"
"…I'll be leaving in a couple of days," Darren continued. "After that, even if you want to spar with me, you won't get the chance."
He shook his head.
"Zephyr-sensei's going to need time to fully recover. Until then, I have to make sure you're strong enough to protect yourselves."
"You don't want him worrying about your training while he's still lying there with serious injuries, do you?"
That shut them up.
They had to admit he was right.
If they'd been stronger during the battle at Marineford, they might have been able to help Zephyr more, might have kept his injuries from becoming so severe.
"I'll go first."
Yamakaji suddenly gritted his teeth and stepped out from the crowd.
The others froze, then turned to look at him, respect rising in their eyes.
Darren gave Yamakaji an approving glance as he rose slowly from the boulder. He tilted his head from side to side, vertebrae cracking in a crisp series of pops.
"Good."
He couldn't stay on this island forever.
The North Blue Fleet still needed to be managed; the shifting currents of the New World had to be assessed; he needed to continue seeking ways to grow stronger, and to find methods to counter the Gorosei's "immortality." The things waiting for him out there were endless.
But he couldn't ignore Zephyr-sensei's safety.
Nor could he abandon the comrades standing before him.
Unlike the North Blue Fleet, who had fought beside him and Momonga for years, Tokikake and the others—though once the backbone of Marine Headquarters and hailed as part of its "Golden Generation"—were essentially novices when stripped of Headquarters' overwhelming resources and support.
Before he left, Darren was determined to give them as much as he could.
So he had decided on three days of hellish special training.
He would drag their strength as far upward as it could go in the time he had left.
"I'll give it everything I've got."
Yamakaji drew a deep breath, his eyes beginning to burn with fierce fighting intent.
He slowly unsheathed his military saber, gaze locked on Darren as he said in a low, steady voice, "I still remember our spar back when we first enrolled. We fought for the top spot then."
"Back then, I swore I'd develop a sword style strong enough to defeat you."
Darren nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I remember it clearly."
Yamakaji grinned. His eyes shone with a blinding light.
"It's not fully perfected yet, but…"
Tch!
A searing orange-red flame erupted along the blade, twisting and writhing like a living thing.
"This is…"
"The heat created by Armament Haki coating and friction!"
"A slash that can cut through fire itself!"
"Yamakaji's swordsmanship has reached that level already?!"
"..."
The others gasped, eyes wide as they stared at the blazing saber. In an instant, their expressions changed.
The pity that said, You're just going to get pounded into the ground, shifted into excitement and anticipation—
He might actually stand a chance!
"Darren, this swordsmanship was created specifically to break through your defenses!"
Feeling the eyes of his comrades on him, Yamakaji's aura surged even higher.
"Watch closely!"
With a single heavy step, he burst forward.
Blade and body blurred into one, leaving a streak of crimson light behind him like a shooting star hurtling straight at Darren.
This strike pushed his momentum to its absolute peak.
For a moment, it was impossible to tell whether Yamakaji was wielding a saber—
—or if he himself had become a razor-sharp Meito, every edge honed to lethal brilliance.
The light flared, dazzling.
The next instant—
Boom!
Yamakaji was sent flying back at twice the speed he'd charged in, slamming into the ground like a falling cannonball.
The others stared, stunned speechless.
Darren calmly touched his shoulder where the flaming slash had landed. His fingers came away stained with blood. For a heartbeat, his eyes flickered with surprise—then a restless, hungry gleam slowly rose in their depths.
You've really gotten stronger… my comrades.
"Come at me all at once. Don't waste time."
He turned back to face the group, a chilling smile spreading across his face.
"The three-day hellish training officially begins."
To be continued...