The voice cut through the chaos of the collapsing world with uncanny clarity. It pierced the roar of the storm, slipping into every ear as if the wind itself carried it.
Golden Lion's heart lurched. His pupils shrank to pinpoints.
That voice…!
A chilling premonition clawed at the back of his mind.
Suddenly—
Shriiiik!
A streak of black light split the storm. Malevolent, sharp as an arrow loosed by the heavens, it tore through the rain and wind at impossible speed. The storm itself parted around its path, a vacuum tunnel stretching straight toward him.
Enma.
The Demon Blade's ghastly glow was unmistakable. Its cry howled through the tempest, an unearthly shriek that seemed to pierce the soul.
Golden Lion's eyes flicked down the line of that vacuum tunnel—and then he saw them.
Warships.
Through the storm's shifting curtains, their shadows emerged. At the prow of the lead battleship stood a tall figure, cigar clenched between his teeth, rain streaming down his shoulders.
He was grinning. A savage, merciless grin.
Darren!!
Damn it—it's a Marine ambush!
How could they possibly know I was here?
How long have they been waiting?! How many ships are hidden in this storm?
A thousand questions flooded his mind.
But Enma did not stop.
Buzz!
The black blade tore through the void, closing in. Reflected in Shiki's widening pupils, the sword swelled larger and larger.
A chill gripped his spine. He grit his teeth and raised Oto and Kogarashi.
CLANG!
The impact rang like thunder. Enma, sheathed in Armament Haki, struck with terrifying force before ricocheting away.
Golden Lion staggered from the blow, his hands numb, the shock reverberating down his arms.
And in that instant—he realized.
Roger's interruption. Darren's strike. That brief delay was enough.
The storm's vortex was upon him. Its suction tore at his body, shredding his cloak, whipping his skin raw.
"No…!" His voice cracked in disbelief.
Rumble!
The tempest devoured him whole.
"Aaaaahhhhhh!!"
His scream vanished in the storm. The world itself seemed to tear him apart.
For a heartbeat, he saw something dark—a blur of steel—before pain ripped through his skull and consciousness fled.
---
"He… he actually pulled it off?!"
On the Marine flagship, sailors stared at the maelstrom in disbelief, cold dread crawling down their spines.
Sengoku swallowed, sweat tracing his temple.
That storm—it was beyond imagining. A natural disaster, too vast for sky or sea to contain. The thunder of its rage shook the very bones of the earth.
Dragon… his strength has grown this much?
"Dragon's gone," Sakazuki muttered. His voice was grim, edged like a blade.
Sengoku's eyes snapped toward the shattered skiff. Waves slammed over its wreckage, dragging it beneath. The storm's master had vanished as if swallowed by the sea.
So sudden. So clean.
Gone, just like that…
Teleportation?
Or… was it that man who stood beside him?
Borsalino stretched languidly as he strolled from his chair, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. "My, my… to conjure up something like that." He rubbed at the stubble on his chin, voice unhurried, but the weight behind it undeniable.
"Even if our fleet faced such a storm," he said, tilting his head toward the raging horizon, "we'd be reduced to splinters."
The meaning hung heavy in the air.
Sakazuki scowled, his face as dark as the clouds overhead.
Sengoku's thoughts twisted uneasily.
The storm's power wasn't wholly Dragon's—no, the chaotic seas of Edd War had amplified his Devil Fruit to its peak. But still, the truth was undeniable.
Dragon's potential in naval warfare was terrifying. Unparalleled.
And he was no longer theirs.
The thought struck Sengoku like ice: What if one day, the Marines are forced to fight him?
He shoved the thought away, his jaw tightening. Now was not the time.
He turned sharply. "Darren. When do we attack?"
"Soon."
Darren exhaled a plume of smoke, the cigar ember glowing faintly in the storm's gloom. His lips curled into a cold smile.
"We wait for the storm to pass. If we charge now, even our fleet would be crushed. But once it clears…" His gaze flicked briefly toward the place Dragon had vanished.
Kuma's ability is truly invaluable.
With Kuma's aid, Dragon's Wind-Wind Fruit, and Darren's own designs—few forces on this sea could corner them. Together, they would grow into a storm that could shake the entire world.
The thought sent a thrill through him.
And then—
A streak of black returned from the void, settling at his side. Enma hovered, humming with malice, its blade slick with stormlight, its aura radiating hunger.
Boom…
The tempest began to roll away, its fury carried further into the distance. Darren knew it would ravage hundreds of nautical miles, erasing islands, obliterating all in its path.
But that was no longer his concern.
The sea before him remained savage, littered with wreckage—splintered ships and broken corpses bobbing like driftwood.
And amid the ruin, one figure staggered upright.
Darren's eyes narrowed. His fingers spread wide, hand raised high.
Behind him, ten battleships bristled with waiting men—over ten thousand Marines, their breath held, blades ready.
The fist clenched.
"All forces… charge."
The command thundered over the sea.
War drums pounded in reply. The battleships shed their disguises, white sails snapping open. Across their breadth, the characters for "Justice" blazed in bold strokes, dragon and phoenix entwined.
The sea trembled beneath their advance.
"Attack!"
Sengoku could bear it no longer. His saber hissed free, his eyes bloodshot, voice roaring like a war god.
"For Justice!"
Killing intent erupted skyward, fierce enough to set the heavens alight.
To be continued...