"Don't forget, Admiral Sengoku. Marineford's construction is nothing like most islands. The main supports are loaded with metal—steel everywhere."
Darren took a leisurely sip of tea and crossed one leg over the other, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.
Blue arcs crackled between his fingertips, and every metal object in the office shivered as if a cold wind had passed through it.
"Your glare's a bit intense. Ease up, will you? And reel in that golden aura—my eyes are starting to hurt. I'm already on edge as it is. I'd hate to snap my fingers by accident."
Sengoku: "..."
Darren's utter lack of fear made Sengoku's blood boil.
His fists clenched until his knuckles popped.
This insolent brat… threatening him in his own office?
But there was one brutal fact even Sengoku couldn't deny.
Darren was capable of it.
If he truly fought Darren on Marineford, the damage wouldn't stop at shattered desks and broken chairs.
With the Magnet-Magnet Fruit's terrifying range and destructive potential, Darren could turn the island into rubble in minutes.
Marineford was famous as the world's most heavily fortified military stronghold. After the Golden Lion's invasion, Sengoku had personally authorized massive purchases of high-strength steel during the reconstruction—reinforcing the fortress framework and even the island's foundations to withstand another assault of that scale.
And now…
That expensive fortification had become Darren's weapon.
A shield and a blade, all at once.
With a flick of his fingers, he could rip apart the island's spine—collapse buildings, crack the central fortress, reduce Marineford itself to ruins.
Every time Sengoku thought about the funds he had approved, it felt like his heart was bleeding.
If I'd known that kid would become our enemy…
Wait.
A memory surfaced, sharp and ugly.
That proposal… the one about reinforcing Marineford with high-strength metal—
It had been Darren's idea.
Sengoku's mind snapped into motion.
He remembered the meeting after the Golden Lion incident. Darren had brought it up in the debriefing.
Sengoku hadn't endorsed it immediately. He'd held back, cautious, letting others weigh in first.
And then—
Kuzan had been the first to stand, laughing with that carefree youthfulness of his. A few empty compliments about Darren being a worthy rival, and then an immediate yes vote.
Fine. Kuzan and Darren had always gotten along.
What about Sakazuki?
Sakazuki hadn't even spoken. He'd simply voted in favor.
Sengoku: "..."
Something was wrong.
And Borsalino—
Sengoku dug through the fragments, and the words replayed in his head with chilling clarity.
Borsalino had smiled that lazy little smile of his and said, "What a truly terrifying plan…"
Terrifying plan?
What the hell did he mean by that?!
Coming from Borsalino, in that drawling, half-mocking tone, it sounded less like praise and more like a warning.
Sengoku's expression slowly congealed.
He remembered the rest, too.
Tokikake had approved. Gion had approved. Most of the officers present had approved.
Because back then, Darren was the Hero of Marineford. The Marines' golden prodigy. A rising star of Justice. Who would suspect ulterior motives?
Zephyr and Garp weren't worth mentioning—those two old bastards were Darren's mentors.
But even Tsuru had voted yes, watching Darren with the soft, approving gaze of a mother-in-law looking over her future son-in-law.
Sengoku stood perfectly still.
His body didn't move, but it felt as though his spirit had stepped out of him, leaving behind a rigid statue.
So that's how it is…
So I've already been played from the beginning.
After a long, frozen silence, Sengoku drew a slow breath. His voice came out stiff and hoarse.
"Darren… you little bastard. What do you want?"
As he spoke, the golden radiance threatening to erupt from him receded at last.
Darren pointed at the seat beside him, as if helpless.
"Come on, Admiral Sengoku, don't be so tense. We're practically family now. I'll brew you some tea. Take a sip, calm down… Give Grandpa—" He coughed. "I mean, give your young friend here a smile?"
The vein on Sengoku's forehead throbbed violently.
With the kind of effort that could crush stone, he forced a smile—so strained it looked worse than tears.
Darren nearly laughed out loud.
Somehow, he held it in.
"Anyway," Darren said, still smiling as if they were chatting over dinner, "I didn't come here just to trade memories. I've got business."
"I have no interest in reminiscing with you," Sengoku growled. Then, eyes narrowing, he added, "And don't forget—this is war now, Darren. We're enemies."
"That's not how I see it." Darren waved a hand as if dismissing a trivial detail, then reached for a cigar on the table, bit the end off, and lit it.
"I'm not the type to get shy around strangers."
Smoke curled from the corner of his mouth as his eyes glinted with mischief.
"If I remember right… that guy, Red the Aloof—the one Fleet Admiral Kong and Vice Admiral Garp took down together—he's been locked away on Level Six of Impel Down, Eternal Hell, all this time. Yeah?"
Sengoku shot to his feet, face twisting.
"What are you planning?!"
"Don't think threatening Marineford will force my hand, Darren! Justice isn't something you bargain with!"
"Redfield—Red the Aloof—is an extremely dangerous man. I will never allow you to enter Impel Down and release him—"
"Am I any less dangerous?" Darren cut in with a smirk.
Sengoku's words died in his throat.
To be continued...