Marine Headquarters. Marineford.
Fleet Admiral's Office.
"Purupuru… purupuru…"
The shrill cry of the Military Den Den Mushi echoed through the room, layering the silence with suffocating tension.
Sengoku paced the floor, hands clasped tightly behind his back, his face carved with worry. Around him, officers sat frozen, their expressions grim as they stared at the ringing snail.
Click.
Once again, the line fell dead.
"Damn it!" Sengoku snarled, his composure finally cracking.
It was the twelfth failed attempt. Twelve times, and not once had they been able to reach Darren or Momonga.
All they knew was that Darren had drawn Golden Lion into the North Blue.
What had happened since? What other moves had Darren concealed? No one at Headquarters knew.
Golden Lion Shiki was not an ordinary foe. He was a man of terrifying power, a predator who could unleash calamity when cornered.
And after days of debate, Headquarters had reached the same conclusion: Darren's worth to the future of the Marines outweighed even the death of the Golden Lion.
Sengoku would rather see Shiki escape alive than lose Darren in the fight. The Marines could not afford to sacrifice him.
But with communication severed, tension gnawed at every corner of the room.
What tormented Sengoku most was his own ignorance. He could not fathom how Darren could possibly hope to defeat Golden Lion. No matter how he turned it over in his mind, he could not see what trump card the boy held.
"Try again, Sengoku," Kong rasped at last, cigar smoke trailing from his lips. His bloodshot eyes and furrowed brow betrayed his exhaustion. The Fleet Admiral had not rested properly since the eve of the Edd War, bearing the weight of Headquarters' command day and night.
"Yes, Fleet Admiral."
Sengoku snatched the receiver and dialed again.
Purupuru… purupuru…
No one in the room dared to hope. If Momonga could answer, he would have already.
Then—
Gacha.
"This is Momonga." His voice was deep, trembling.
Swish.
Every officer surged to their feet. Sengoku lunged forward, snatching the receiver. His voice cracked with urgency:
"Momonga! What is Darren's status?! Listen to me carefully—no matter the cost, no matter how many lives, bring him back alive! He cannot fall to the Golden Lion—"
"Darren won, Admiral Sengoku."
The words cut him short.
For an instant, Sengoku froze, as if lightning had struck him.
Darren… won?
The room erupted in gasps. Disbelief painted every face.
Sakazuki exhaled slowly, sinking back into his chair. He lit a cigar, smoke curling from his lips. "I told you there was nothing to worry about," he muttered. "Our Vice Admiral Darren is a monster."
Borsalino chuckled lazily, as if it had been obvious. "So… how did he do it?"
Sengoku barely heard them. "He… won? That brat actually defeated Golden Lion Shiki? This—how is this possible?"
"See for yourself," Momonga replied.
A hazy white light flickered from the Den Den Mushi, casting an image into the air.
And all eyes widened.
North Blue.
The Birdcage had vanished.
Momonga stood amid the ruined earth, Den Den Mushi in hand. The fleet had already retreated beyond the horizon. His gaze remained fixed on the charred crater before him, his heart heavy with unease.
Smoke drifted skyward. The clouds began to part, and rays of the setting sun pierced through like crimson blades, spilling across the scarred island.
The world was painted in blood-red twilight.
Two figures stood motionless in the wasteland, soaked in blood, their bodies torn by wounds. Mountains in the distance had been leveled, the ground cratered beyond recognition. The sun set behind them, casting their battered silhouettes in lurid crimson.
They faced each other like statues of blood and stone.
Drip… drip… drip…
Blood pattered steadily onto the ground. It dripped from the twin blades of Oto and Kogarashi, pooling at Darren's feet.
Golden Lion's swords had run straight through his abdomen, their tips jutting from his back.
"So, you look down on me?" Shiki rasped, raising his ruined face. Fury blazed in his bloodshot eyes.
"With your Observation Haki, you could have avoided this blow!"
"Yes," Darren admitted, blood spilling from his lips.
Golden Lion's final strike had been ferocious, his Armament and Conqueror's Haki pushed to their utmost. But his body was broken. Without Observation Haki, he had swung blind.
The attack could have been avoided.
"Then why didn't you dodge?!"
Darren's voice was steady. "Because the final strike of the world's greatest Dual-Blade swordsman—the last roar of a Proud Lion—should not end in vain. Don't you agree?"
Golden Lion froze. Then laughter tore from his chest.
"JIHAHAHAHAHA!!"
"You've got guts!!!"
His laughter rolled wild and unrestrained, booming with joy. Blood sprayed with each cough, tears mixing with it.
"This… this is right! To die by your hand… it was worth it…"
Darren said nothing. He had no strength left for words.
Golden Lion's gaze drifted to the horizon, where the sun bled into the sea. Memories flooded him:
Slaughter. Ambition. The Rocks era. Whitebeard, Big Mom, Kaido. God Valley. Garp. His invincible fleet. His dominion over the seas.
And always—Roger.
"Roger… In the end, I still couldn't surpass you…"
My journey ends here.
Yours continues.
His lips curled faintly, as if savoring his final sunset.
"Marine brat… grant me one thing. The request of a defeated man."
"You may ask," Darren replied hoarsely.
Golden Lion's eyes fell to the swords buried in Darren's body. His trembling hands let them go.
"Your swordsmanship is crude, but your spirit… you can bear them. Promise me—let these blades taste the blood of many more strong men."
Darren's eyes burned. "No problem. Their names will echo across the world, carried by my legend."
Golden Lion grinned, laughter bursting from him once more.
"Then… what are your last words?" Darren asked quietly.
"Last words?" Shiki sneered, disdain curling his lips.
"I am Golden Lion Shiki! I have no regrets in this life! Why would I need last words?!"
He spread his arms wide, blood soaking the earth, tattered golden hair whipping in the wind. His life waned, but his stance never bent. He stood like a lion at the peak, roaring one last time.
"Kill me, brat! Then climb over my corpse to seize your ambition!!"
And at last, Sengoku and the others watching through the projection saw it clearly: Darren's hand, buried deep in the pirate's chest.
"As you wish," Darren said coldly.
Thud.
The sound of a heart rupturing split the silence. Blood erupted in a crimson geyser. Golden Lion shuddered once, then fell backward onto the broken earth.
And in that wasteland of ruin, only one man remained standing.
On this day, the Flying Admiral—the Golden Lion Shiki—was defeated.
...
Author's Note:
An extra update, as promised.
Today, the Golden Lion has fallen.
I admit, this arc ran long—but I believe it was worth every page.
He stormed Marineford alone. He severed his own legs to break free of Impel Down. He accomplished feats Roger and Whitebeard themselves never could.
Shiki was the greatest tyrant of the seas.
And he deserved every moment of this story.
To be continued...