A metallic black sheen rippled across Fleet Admiral Kong's skin, his explosively carved muscles radiating an aura of absolute endurance and indomitable defense.
Reflected in the window, Darren could clearly see Kong's back—two massive spinal erectors rising like coiled dragons along either side of a sharply defined spine. Through the stretched, translucent skin, a blackened glow flickered from the vertebrae themselves.
A profound aura erupted from Kong's body in the next heartbeat.
A freezing pressure slammed into Darren, forcing his pupils to contract.
Armament Haki… tempered to the bone.
Decades of relentless training. Strength condensed beyond human limits. A body reforged under trials few could survive.
This was the man known as Steel Bone.
"I won't allow you to run wild here, boy," Kong growled.
His muscles undulated beneath his skin, white mist rising as power surged outward.
After exhaling a slow, heavy breath, he lifted his head. His gaze—sharp, tyrannical, unyielding—locked onto Darren.
"You ungrateful brat. All those years I spent guiding you… wasted."
He bent his knees and launched forward like a caged tiger bursting free.
His Haki-clad hands came together as if crushing shards of lightning between his palms. Crimson flames trailed behind his fists as he drew back and hurled a punch straight at Darren's face.
Bang.
The blow detonated with a thunderous roar.
But then Kong's eyes widened.
Frozen mid-stride, his fist still suspended in front of Darren, he stared upward in disbelief.
White smoke curled between them.
A jet-black, three-fingered Dragon Claw had clamped around his mountain-shattering punch… and stopped it cold.
"This power…"
Kong's heart hammered, pupils shrinking to pinpoints.
Darren lifted his head. His short black hair snapped wildly in the storm of displaced air.
In those dark irises, crimson spread like a rising tide, tinged with a chilling, violent madness.
Blue-violet electricity danced in his gaze, then crept across his skin—over his face, down his neck, across his arms and torso, down to his feet—until it reached his heart.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Kong swore he could hear it—Darren's heartbeat, deep and thunderous, like a colossal dragon stirring in the depths.
"The only disappointment here is you, Fleet Admiral Kong."
A warped grin twisted across Darren's lips as the blood in his veins roared like a storming sea.
"Your backbone's way too soft… Doesn't suit your nickname at all."
Kong froze, stunned.
Then a whisper brushed his ear—low, mocking, demonic.
"Start spinning for me, bitch…"
---
"He is the King among Celestial Dragons—the supreme masterpiece of the Figarland bloodline!"
"Born into unparalleled glory, with power eclipsing all his peers, he bears the universally acclaimed title of the Strongest Celestial Dragon!"
"The one who wields the sacred sword of authority and judgment… who shall guard our radiant Holy Land of Mary Geoise from all who dare oppose it… as the new Commander of the Knights of God!"
On the vast plaza of the Stairway to Heaven, the investiture ceremony continued in magnificent spectacle, broadcast live to every corner of the world.
At the Gorosei's signal, a World Government official stepped forward, clutching the microphone with trembling excitement.
"He… is none other than Lord Figarland Garling!"
The plaza erupted in collective astonishment as a tall figure strode through the red-carpeted entrance, flanked by dozens of guards. Broad gold epaulettes rested upon his shoulders, and a dark red cape billowed behind him.
Before the eyes of the world, his expression remained calm and reserved. His crescent-shaped blood-red hairstyle did not so much as flutter. The tailored noble combat uniform, elegant yet formidable, outlined his lean frame. His polished boots struck the stone with unwavering certainty. At his hip hung a golden rapier, its presence completing his aristocratic poise.
Bathed in sunlight, his composed smile radiated a divine, untouchable brilliance. The sight alone commanded reverence.
Both he and Doflamingo stood at the pinnacle of Celestial Dragons and commanded the Knights of God—but their auras were night and day. Doflamingo's madness was born from bloodstained ambition, a monster clawing upward from despair. Garling, however, carried the effortless grace of a pampered noble—the finest education, perfect etiquette, every movement steeped in aristocratic refinement.
"So this is the Strongest Celestial Dragon…" someone whispered. "Remarkable."
"His presence alone outshines ordinary men."
"He's dazzling…"
"Under his leadership, the Knights of God will become unstoppable…"
Representatives from the Member States watched the man ascend, each silently nodding in admiration.
Garling basked in the tsunami of reverence—every stare filled with praise, fear, and worship. His smile deepened.
He strode up the steps and stopped before the Gorosei.
"Congratulations, Garling," Saint Saturn said softly as he personally affixed the Commander's insignia to Garling's chest—just as he had once done for Doflamingo.
"We trust you will not betray our expectations."
Thunderous applause surged through the plaza as Figarland Garling replied, "Leave the rest to me."
Then he paused, turned, and raised one hand.
A single gesture.
Silence fell instantly.
Standing atop the Stairway to Heaven, he gazed down upon the crowd with a faint, inscrutable smile.
"As the newly appointed Commander of the Knights of God, I, Figarland Garling, have an important announcement to make."
An announcement?
The plaza stiffened, whispers dying on tongues.
Behind him, Doflamingo narrowed his eyes, a playful curl lifting his lips.
Finally… it begins.
Watching Garling's triumphant back, he sneered inwardly as a sudden thought surfaced:
And where might my Godfather be right now?
To be continued...