"Trying to take me down, Borsalino?"
Darren's half-mocking voice drifted through the deathly silent corridor, the echo pulsing strangely against the stone. The smirk at his lips was sharp enough to chill blood.
The prisoners of Eternal Hell barely noticed the tone. They stood frozen, staring at Darren's black hair swaying in the heat haze and smoke, mouths hanging open.
Gulp.
"H-He dodged it…"
"No mistake…"
"That feeling… only Future Sight…"
"…could do that!"
"He did it…"
"He actually did it!"
"Monster!"
The first swallow broke the silence. Then the whispers came in a rush, breath catching, eyes wide with something close to terror.
He'd dodged all three laser beams—shots fired at ridiculous speed and cadence—without so much as a scrape.
And he was wearing Seastone shackles.
No Devil Fruit. Strength dulled. Speed dulled. Reflexes dulled—at least half of what made him so monstrous smothered under that suppression.
After the last few days of "sparring"—no, beatings—they knew exactly what he should and shouldn't be able to do while shackled.
And yet he'd slipped those beams like they were slow.
There was only one explanation.
Darren's Observation Haki had finally broken through into Future Sight.
While the prisoners reeled, Redfield sat upright on the ground, composed as ever, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips.
"That look in your eyes is terrifying, Darren," Borsalino said lightly, his smile never wavering.
In answer to Darren's question, he pointed to his own face, then to Darren.
"I'm a Vice Admiral of Marine Headquarters. You're the World Government's most wanted criminal."
"If I get the chance, I'll eliminate you without hesitation."
Darren narrowed his eyes, then a grin crept across his face—brighter, sharper, almost pleased.
"Fair enough," he said, nodding. "That's only logical."
Borsalino shrugged, scratching the side of his head with a rueful little smile.
"Things didn't go quite the way I expected," he drawled. "Looks like today's little outing ends here…"
"Not necessarily."
Darren's smile widened.
Everyone froze.
"Magellan," Darren said, grinning, "unlock these shackles."
Magellan's eyes went wide—not because of the words, but because of what came immediately after them. The moment Darren finished speaking, the prisoners who'd been lounging around with food and drink twitched as if shocked. Like startled rats, they shot back into their cells.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Doors slammed in rapid-fire succession, the sound ricocheting down the corridor until only the scraps remained—spilled food, toppled bottles, a wine glass still spinning on its rim.
Magellan: "..."
His lips twitched. He hurried to Darren, pulled out a key, and unlocked the Seastone.
Clang!
The shackles hit the ground with a heavy ring.
Darren rolled his wrists, flexing the ache out of the joints. Then he closed his eyes and took a slow breath.
It looked like he was merely settling his breathing, but it felt like something else entirely—like he was listening for a frequency no one else could hear.
His presence drew inward, condensing, turning dense and deep, like a black hole pulling everything into it.
The world went frighteningly quiet.
Then—
The prisoners' faces tightened as their pupils shrank.
A tangible gale of Haki erupted around Darren—visible to the naked eye—spiraling up in a violent vortex. Hair and ash lifted and whipped in the pressure.
Darren's eyes snapped open. In the depths of his gaze, a blood-red glint burned.
"Ready for another round?" he asked, angling his body forward, predatory.
Borsalino lifted his hands, acting terrified. "I could never beat a monster like you—"
Boom!
The ground cracked as Darren vanished.
A streak of lightning tore through the corridor, and he was already in front of Borsalino.
"—thing."
Before Borsalino could finish, Darren's grin turned feral and a thunder-kick exploded forward.
Armament Haki packed into the strike. Thunder Armor's explosive force amplified it. The air screamed. The space around the kick warped under the pressure as it hurtled toward Borsalino's comically horrified face.
And the instant it landed, Darren's expression shifted.
Shh!!
His kick passed straight through—tearing "Borsalino" in half as cleanly as paper.
Thud. Thud.
Darren landed and frowned.
The grinning figure dissolved into scattered photons, stardust spilling into the dark.
Darren narrowed his eyes, then let out a soft, amused breath.
"So that's it," he murmured. "A clone."
The lightning around him faded. The violent pressure settled. He turned slowly—
Borsalino stood at the far end of the corridor, by the gate to Level Five, as if he'd never been in danger at all. He wiped at his forehead like he'd narrowly survived, even though there wasn't a drop of sweat.
"I almost got taken out there…" he said.
Darren's eye twitched.
He stared at that smug, punchable face, and for a heartbeat he really wanted to unleash Magnetic Field Rotation and beat him into the floor.
To hell with lifespan. What a hassle.
Enjoy the moment first.
To be continued...