This made them wonder: could the Pirate King really be that powerful? Could a legendary Great Pirate like him put down "Red the Aloof" Redfield with a single strike?
If anyone else had said it, they would've laughed it off. But it was Redfield himself speaking.
While the others were still reeling, Darren latched onto one phrase.
"Killed my Observation Haki…"
His brow drew tighter as he turned it over in his mind.
Conqueror's Haki… can it really be used like that?
Coating a weapon—or one's attacks—with Conqueror's Haki drastically increases destructive power. It can also let you strike without contact, the way the old saying goes: hitting a cow from across a mountain.
After Darren mastered his Indestructible Body, building a physique as hard as diamond, most Armament Haki-enhanced attacks became meaningless against him. Only true masters of Internal Destruction—those who could bypass defenses and pulverize from the inside—could threaten him.
Conqueror's Haki Coating sat even higher. Its penetrating force surpassed Internal Destruction itself, and only a handful of people on the sea had ever reached that level.
As far as Darren knew, the ones confirmed to wield it were Roger, Whitebeard, Kaido, Big Mom, and the Golden Lion.
As for Garp, Sengoku, and Kong… that was still unclear.
Darren suspected Garp and Kong had it. One was the Marine hero who fought Roger as an equal and helped bring down Rocks. The other had sat at the top of Marine authority for decades.
And then there was Zephyr-sensei—who had awakened Conqueror's Haki and now led the Neo Marines—and Dragon, founder of the Freedom Fighters who would later become the Revolutionary Army. Both felt like obvious candidates as well.
Even so, you could still count the true users on one hand.
In the New World, according to Chinjao, Conqueror's Haki itself was as common as carp leaping a river—plenty of "kings" everywhere.
And yet… the ability to coat with it remained that rare.
Which meant one thing: the gap between "has it" and "can use it" was enormous.
But now Redfield was saying there was something even deeper than Conqueror's Haki Coating—something more mysterious, more frighteningly refined.
And Roger had used it to erase Redfield's greatest weapon, then end the fight with a single Divine Departure?
Darren couldn't help feeling like he'd just been handed a piece of the world that shouldn't exist.
"You're telling me you went down in one hit?" he asked, skepticism tightening his voice despite himself.
Redfield shook his head. "Never underestimate Roger. You have no idea how terrifying that man is when he's truly serious."
He took a breath, eyes narrowing as if tasting the memory.
"Of course, there was compatibility. My swordsmanship was nowhere near his, and my Observation Haki—my trump card—was completely useless in front of his Conqueror's Haki."
His gaze turned sharp.
"Against anyone else on this sea, I wouldn't have been that powerless."
Darren stared at him for a moment, then the expression on his face went… strange.
"So you're saying you're just fragile?"
"Cough—cough—cough!"
Redfield, who'd been sipping wine with aristocratic composure, erupted into a violent coughing fit and nearly sprayed the mouthful.
A vein throbbed on his forehead.
"You think everyone's a freak like you with an indestructible body for armor?!" he snapped, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. "You damn brat—infuriating. You're exactly like that little devil Borsalino back then… Is this some Marine tradition? Is this what Zephyr teaches his students?"
Darren spread his hands, grinning. "Just joking."
Redfield stared at him for a beat, then exhaled as if forcing the irritation back down.
"Roger's ability is called Observation Killer," he said flatly. "As far as I know, he's the only one who's mastered it."
He tilted his glass slightly, voice turning colder.
"If you want to bring down the Gorosei—whatever their trick is—then with Roger's power, none of it would matter."
His eyes fixed on Darren.
"Now do you understand why I told you you picked the wrong teacher? The person you should be looking for isn't me. It's Roger."
He paused, then added with a faint sneer, "Though I never imagined you'd fail to get him to teach you."
Darren's grin faded. For a moment, even the firelight seemed to dull.
"Roger is dying," he said.
Redfield froze. His eyes widened, sharp disbelief cutting through his composure. "What did you say?"
Darren didn't blink. He didn't joke.
"That's impossible," Redfield snapped, but the edge in his voice sounded… thin.
Darren pulled a cigar from his pocket. Before he could light it, a prisoner beside him leaned in with a grin and offered a flame.
Darren took a slow drag, then spoke like he was discussing the weather.
"He's had an incurable disease for a long time. That's why he sailed the world again—why he chased the 'final island.'"
He exhaled smoke into the stale air of Eternal Hell.
"After he reached Laugh Tale and became the Pirate King, he disbanded his crew. He was the first one to step off the ship."
Darren's gaze lowered, as if watching the end of a flame.
"I met him right after."
He paused, frowning as he searched for the right word.
"His edge… felt dull. Like it had dimmed."
Redfield didn't speak.
A long silence fell, heavy enough to smother laughter.
"I never would've imagined…" Redfield finally murmured, voice quieter than before. "Gol D. Roger, brought down by sickness."
For a long moment, his eyes stayed unfocused, lost somewhere far from Impel Down.
Then the sharpness returned.
He lifted his glass and drained it in one swallow.
"Have you rested enough?" he asked.
A faint red glint flickered in his eyes as he turned toward Darren.
Darren stood, grin returning—wilder now—and that familiar battle hunger burned back into his gaze.
"Of course."
The Seastone shackles on his wrists clinked sharply as he moved.
"No," Redfield said, and a chuckle slipped out. "You won't be fighting me."
Darren froze.
Before he could respond, a deep rumble rolled through the corridor from the massive gates.
"What…?" Magellan, stationed at the gate, narrowed his eyes and started forward, ready to stop whoever was forcing their way through.
Then he saw the figure stepping out from behind it—and stopped dead.
And Darren heard a familiar, lazy drawl drift through the air:
"Quite the lively gathering here..."
To be continued...