"So don't give me your 'sorrys' and 'forgive us'… You Marines, always chanting justice this and justice that… cough, cough…"
The man broke into a violent coughing fit, black blood splattering from his lips. His pallor had darkened to a sickly violet hue.
He gasped for air, on the verge of collapse, and sneered with the last dregs of his strength:
"Delayed justice… is no justice at all!"
Silence fell over the Marines. Rain had started falling from the leaden sky without anyone noticing. The drizzle pattered over bloodied rubble, yet it could not wash away the weight pressing on their hearts.
"…You're right. Our Marine justice… is complete bullshit."
The cold voice came without warning.
Everyone turned. Darren had crouched beside the dying man, his expression calm.
He pulled a cigarette pack from his coat, extracting one.
"Want one?"
The man blinked, slightly startled, then nodded faintly.
Darren placed it between his lips and lit it for him.
The man took a deep drag and coughed violently again, smoke spilling with blood.
"What's done is done. I know saying 'sorry' means nothing. Justice delayed isn't justice. But—luckily—I've never been too sentimental about 'justice' to begin with."
Darren lit his own cigarette and gave a slight smile.
"I believe in vengeance. An eye for an eye."
"So if you know anything—anything at all—tell me. Even the faintest lead could help us find the one who did this. Then I'll kill him. For your family… and for you."
The man stared at him, the light in his eyes beginning to fade. But only now did he notice: this Marine was unlike the others. There was something unruly, feral, in his gaze. A dangerous flame of defiance.
Was he a madman?
The man smiled faintly.
"Three days ago, a merchant fleet stopped here to resupply. Rumor was they'd found something priceless—planning to auction it off to someone high up in the underworld."
"Two days later, the Golden Lion arrived."
"He tortured, he killed—looking for that fleet's trail. What you see now… that's the aftermath."
A treasure?
Everyone, including Darren, frowned.
Someone like Shiki wouldn't bother with mere treasure. Wealth, supplies, weapons, territory—he could take whatever he wanted by force.
"What was it that he was after?"
Sengoku asked urgently.
The man gave him a scornful glance and weakly shook his head.
Darren exhaled smoke and spoke slowly:
"If it caught Shiki's eye, then it must be something that could help him dominate the seas."
Sengoku nodded.
"Do you know where that merchant fleet went?"
He turned back to the man—but paused.
Crows cawed overhead. The rain beat against the earth, splashing mud on their boots.
The man's pupils had gone glassy. He was still, rigid.
The cigarette between his cracked lips had long since gone out.
He was dead.
The trail was cold.
Marines continued their work in silence, searching the ruins for clues. But the rain showed no signs of stopping.
Wrapped in a long, hooded coat, Darren walked through the remains of the town, cigarette in his mouth.
He stopped before a building split clean in two. Running his hand along the deep sword cut in the stone, he felt the lingering will behind the strike—fierce, unrestrained, cruel.
Where Garp's fists embodied overwhelming nobility and might, this slash screamed of wild brutality. A tyrant who laughed at death, who wielded violence with manic glee.
A dark warlord's silhouette rose in Darren's mind.
"Purupuru… purupuru…"
The Den Den Mushi in his coat buzzed to life.
He glanced at the encrypted signal, eyes narrowing. Confirming no one was nearby, he answered.
A wicked, low laugh emerged from the snail.
"Heh heh heh… My dear Godfather. I've got good news."
The Den Den Mushi mimicked Doflamingo's signature grin.
"That thing you've always wanted me to find… it's surfaced."
A glint flashed in Darren's eyes. His gaze narrowed to dangerous slits.
"It's now in the hands of Lu Feld, the Loan Shark King. Word is, tomorrow, he's holding an open auction on a neutral island in the New World. Highest bidder takes it."
"Plenty of big players are already moving…"
"…including Shiki, I assume?" Darren asked flatly.
Doflamingo paused, then laughed again.
"Heh heh heh… Seems you've made your moves, Godfather. I'll stay out of this one."
"Thanks, Dof."
Darren ended the call without another word.
The Donquixote Family had pull in the North Blue, but not enough weight in the New World. Darren had no plans to drag Doflamingo further in.
Still, this intel made everything clear.
He turned and strode back to Sengoku.
"Admiral Sengoku. I know what Shiki is after."
Sengoku looked up.
"What is it?"
Darren raised his gaze toward the storm-churned sky.
"Byrnndy World's ability. The More-More Fruit."
Sengoku's face changed instantly.
---
To be continued…