Unlock the shackles?
Red the Aloof's words stunned Eternal Hell into a wary silence.
A heartbeat later, someone scoffed under their breath.
Unlock them? As if that's even possible.
Do you have any idea where you are?
This was Impel Down—the world's strongest prison—where the worst monsters on the sea were buried alive. Letting even one of them loose could erase a nation.
And this wasn't just anyone.
It was Redfield. Red the Aloof. A man who had once stood toe-to-toe with Whitebeard and the Roger Pirates.
Back then, Fleet Admiral Kong himself had led the effort to bring him down, and even after days of battle the outcome hadn't been certain—until that damned Garp intervened. Only then had they managed to defeat him and throw him into the abyss of Impel Down.
If Redfield's shackles came off, he could slaughter every soul in this prison by himself.
And even if Kong returned, he wouldn't be able to put him back in chains.
So the inmates sneered in the dark.
No matter how strong this kid Darren thinks he is, he wouldn't dare—
Click.
The crisp sound snapped through the silence like a gunshot.
Every inmate went rigid.
Heads turned—slowly, stiffly—until they saw it. Redfield's shackles were open on his wrists.
Eyes widened. Pupils shrank.
He actually… opened them?
Is this kid insane?!
The prisoners stared at Darren as if they'd seen a ghost.
Even Redfield himself froze—just for a moment.
Clang… clang…
The heavy Seastone cuffs slid off his wrists and crashed to the ground. He stared at his freed hands, almost blankly, and then a slow smile spread across his lips.
"Interesting."
He lifted his gaze. Those sharp eyes—eyes that looked like they could peel a man open and read what was inside—bored into Darren's face.
Zephyr really found a gem of a disciple, didn't he?" Redfield asked, smiling. "And I bet Garp is pleased with you, too."
His stare was no longer condescending. It was bright with open admiration.
"Now I understand why your Conqueror's Haki is so formidable."
He laughed, rich and delighted.
"Hahaha! That kind of audacity, at your age…"
And in that laughter, his tone shifted.
A moment ago he'd been looking at Darren like an elder indulging a reckless youth. Now there was something else in his gaze—something closer to acknowledgement.
Respect.
But Darren didn't so much as blink.
He simply shook his head, smiling faintly. "No. You've misunderstood."
"Oh?" Redfield's brow lifted, interest sharpening. "Then what do you mean?"
Darren's voice was calm. Almost gentle.
"You made a mistake."
He raised a hand. Electric-blue arcs danced at his fingertip, snapping softly in the dark. His lips curled into a savage grin.
"My ambition extends far beyond this."
Redfield's expression shifted. A strange, crimson gleam surfaced in his eyes.
His Observation Haki stirred—reaching forward, snatching at a fragment of what might come next—and for the first time, his smile cracked.
Then—
Crack.
Crack.
Crack.
…
Before the stunned eyes of the inmates—
And under Magellan's gaping stare—
Blue sparks flickered across lock after lock. Metal clicked. Mechanisms turned.
Around Eternal Hell, hundreds of Seastone shackles sprang open.
They slid off wrists and ankles one after another, hitting the floor with heavy, brutal clatter.
The sound rolled through the level like a barrage of firecrackers.
…
When the last shackle fell, silence returned—thick, oppressive, unreal.
Gulp.
Magellan swallowed hard and, without meaning to, edged closer behind Darren.
He could feel it.
In the darkness behind those bars, shapes shifted. Breaths grew faster—heavier—like jackals scenting blood.
Something awful was waking up.
Creeeak…
One by one, iron cell doors began to open on their own. Rusted hinges screamed as the gates swung wide.
Freedom lay bare in front of them.
Every criminal's breath caught.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Redfield murmured at last, recovering from his shock.
Then he chuckled—and the sound was nothing like his earlier gentleman's laugh. This one was hoarse, sharp, and thrilled in a way that made skin crawl.
He laughed openly.
"I underestimated you, little brat Darren!"
His eyes locked on Darren. From his hands, crimson-black lightning began to crackle, violent and hungry.
"However…"
His smile turned cold.
"Are you really saying you'll take on all of Eternal Hell—including me—by yourself?"
Darren narrowed his eyes, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Is there a problem with that?"
His gaze flicked to Redfield's empty hands. Then he snapped his fingers, as if suddenly remembering something, and grinned.
"Ah—almost forgot. You'd feel awkward without this, wouldn't you?"
He raised his hand.
A crimson streak tore through the air from above—ripping down from the fifth level, screaming through Freezing Hell and the tunnels like a blade—
—and in the next instant it was in front of Redfield.
Redfield's hand moved on instinct, catching it.
Only then did the inmates realize what it was.
A blood-red umbrella, its handle shaped like a bat.
"This is your sword, right?" Darren asked.
Redfield stared at the umbrella in his hand, stunned—dazed with disbelief.
This little brat…
He brought my weapon to me.
Was he truly that confident?
Or did he simply have a death wish?
Absurdity surged through Redfield's chest—then fury—then something hotter still.
Battle lust.
"Very good," he said, baring a satisfied grin. "It's been far too long since my blood boiled like this."
Darren nodded, pleased. "Good. I need you at your absolute best."
He turned his head slightly. "Magellan. Close the gate."
Magellan went rigid, forced his shock down, and moved without hesitation.
Rumble…
The massive gate groaned as it began to shut, sealing off the path back to the fifth level.
Darren inhaled slowly, then spread his arms wide with arrogant ease, as if welcoming the whole of Hell into his embrace.
His eyes swept over Eternal Hell—predatory, bright with intent.
"Kill me," he snarled, "and you can escape Eternal Hell."
His grin sharpened into something feral.
"Now—give it everything you've got… and please me."
To be continued...