"As we were just discussing, every 30-point increase in the intensity of your biomagnetic field marks a critical threshold... If you want to weave Magnetic Field Rotation into your daily training without dying, I strongly recommend increasing the intensity gradually."
Queen stroked his chubby chin, sounding unusually earnest:
"Treat each 30-point interval as a distinct stage. The first stage would be maintaining a biomagnetic field between 200 and 300 units, letting your body slowly 'adapt' to the pressure and strengthen your overall physical constitution."
"Only after your body fully adapts to the first stage should you push the field higher and enter the next stage... and so on, steadily stretching your endurance with each step."
"If this method proves viable, then one day you might be able to sustain a human magnetic field intensity of 500 units even in your normal state—maintaining that terrifying form we saw earlier as your default!"
As he finished, Overalls Fatso tugged excitedly at his overalls, his eyes blazing.
"I call this process—the Apotheosis Project!"
"Step by step, we climb the rigid ladder of our own genetic sequence, surpassing the limits of the human body again and again, until finally—with mortal flesh—we stand shoulder to shoulder with the true Gods!"
When his words faded, a heavy silence fell over the laboratory.
Gulp...
In that profound stillness, the sound of Dragon swallowing echoed sharply.
He stared at the glowing graphs and data on the whiteboard, utterly awestruck. Stars seemed to flicker in his eyes.
The Apotheosis Project...
He didn't understand the complex data or the scientific logic, but the name alone sounded ridiculously cool.
"Are you sure this can actually work?" he asked, unable to hide the curiosity on his face.
Queen sighed and shook his head. "I have no idea."
"This process is incredibly difficult. The human body is fundamentally fragile. Even after countless battles and relentless training, most people are still just flesh and blood."
"Without the protection of Haki, even Whitebeard, the so-called 'Strongest Man in the World,' would die from bullets and cannon fire. Pushing your biomagnetic field beyond its current limit is a completely different level."
"In fact, the very existence of Darren's 'Indestructible Body' already exceeds anything I could reasonably explain. It's practically a miracle."
"More importantly..."
He turned, his gaze landing on the black-haired youth slumped on the hospital bed, smoking calmly despite his exhaustion.
"Even at low intensity, the pain you'll suffer under Magnetic Field Rotation won't be much less than when you're fully unleashing it."
"Your muscles will feel as if they're being torn apart. Your internal organs and body will burn like they're on fire. Your body temperature will soar, your fluids will evaporate, and the agony will be indescribable."
"And because this isn't a short burst of power, adapting your body to low-intensity Magnetic Field Rotation will take an incredibly long time... We're not talking minutes or hours, but days or even weeks of uninterrupted torment."
"The Indestructible Body doesn't protect you from this kind of pain," Queen added. "Medication won't help either. You can't afford to pass out from the agony—you must stay conscious."
"In other words, you'll have to rely purely on willpower to endure this hell."
Cold sweat prickled down Dragon's back, his scalp tingling. He muttered, "So to forge a body like a god, you first have to temper a will like a god's..."
He didn't need to experience it himself; just hearing Queen's description made his whole body ache.
Thinking that, both men turned their eyes to Darren, quietly waiting for his answer.
"Sounds... intriguing," Darren said, suddenly smiling.
"Huh?" Queen blurted, taken aback.
"What I mean is..."
Darren slowly lifted his head. His bloodshot eyes burned with a crazed intensity.
"Isn't it... fascinating to train in Purgatory, constantly pushing yourself right up against your limits?"
---
The New World.
Donquixote Family Headquarters.
A lone figure reclined on a spacious leather sofa, half-lying against the cushions.
An opened bottle of red wine sat on the coffee table before him, beside an ashtray where a cigar had burned to ash.
An antique book lay open, covering the young Celestial Dragon's face. A cool sea breeze drifted in through the window, billowing the sheer curtains.
"Young Master..."
A deep voice suddenly broke the silence. Ripples spread across the smooth marble floor, like waves across a still lake.
A young man in a sleek black Italian suit slowly "rose" from the floor itself.
Senor Pink straightened his tie, then bowed slightly to Doflamingo with immaculate formality, announcing in a low, serious tone:
"We've received the latest news from Holy Land Mary Geoise. Commander of the Knights of God, Saint Jaygarcia Michael, was killed in action during a top-secret mission several days ago."
The atmosphere in the hall froze. The air seemed to congeal.
A twisted killing intent surged through the room.
"Is this information... reliable?"
Doflamingo slowly raised a hand and removed the book covering his face.
His flamboyant sunglasses hid his eyes, but his voice carried clear shock.
The Knights of God—the supreme enforcers empowered to punish even World Nobles.
He remembered them vaguely—those creatures even more arrogant than the Celestial Dragons themselves.
Clad in their distinctive execution robes, they stalked the streets of the Holy Land, filling countless Celestial Dragons with fear.
And now, the strongest of them, Saint Jaygarcia Michael, had died quietly, without a sound?
"The intel should be reliable," Senor Pink replied carefully, nodding. "It comes from our informant inside the Holy Land."
"Moreover, there is supporting evidence..."
He stopped as the purupuru, purupuru... of a Den Den Mushi cut him off.
The encrypted Den Den Mushi on the coffee table shuddered violently, as if demanding attention.
Seeing the signal indicator flashing on its base, Doflamingo's expression twisted into something strange.
Senor Pink bowed his head slightly, speaking in a low, steady voice. "Then I'll excuse myself, Young Master."
He turned to leave, but Doflamingo waved him down. "No need. You can stay and listen."
He picked up the Den Den Mushi and connected the call.
A mad grin slowly spread across his face, stretching wider and wider like a warped sunrise.
"It's been far too long since I've heard your voices, esteemed Gorosei Excellency."
To be continued...