A vast hollow trench yawned above the ravine, as if the very earth had been scooped out and erased, sending a chill down the spine of anyone who saw it.
It felt as though some celestial being had torn the island open, leaving behind a scene of terrifying desolation.
All from a single punch—
Power driven right up to its absolute limit.
The corner of Dragon's eye twitched, his throat tightening with tension.
Even now, as he looked, Darren was still the same familiar madman who laughed through blood and bruises. But through Observation Haki, Dragon sensed a force pouring off him that shattered any notion of "human" limits.
If you measured him purely by life force, his presence already eclipsed even monsters like Kaido and Big Mom.
Close your eyes and rely only on Observation Haki, and you would swear that some ancient primordial beast had descended into the human world.
He's pushing himself way too hard… Dragon thought grimly. Then he turned toward the remaining two CP0 agents, his gaze going cold and murderous.
…I can't just let him hog all the spotlight, can I?
The emerald tempest roaring across the island swelled skyward, its howling winds growing more violent.
---
"This strength… it's impossible…"
Amid the thunder of collapsing rock and the roar of landslides, shards of shattered stone blew outward on the shockwaves.
The Silver Wolfman dragged himself free of the massive crater he'd left in the mountain, breath steaming, crimson blood dripping from his fangs.
The elegance he'd once held himself with was gone. Saint Michael was hunched over, his moon-silver fur matted with blood and grime. His arms and abdomen were ripped open, flesh and fur twisted together into a hideous mess.
His bloodshot eyes locked on Darren in the distance, filled with raw disbelief.
A mere human… with power like this?
And he wasn't even a Zoan-type Devil Fruit user.
A deep sense of unreality washed over him. Darren's overwhelming combat strength shattered everything he thought he knew.
"How could a primitive, illiterate native like you ever understand the charm of a magnetic-field maniac?"
Darren sucked in ragged breaths, a manic grin stretching his lips.
Violet lightning wrapped around him, and his skin was beginning to glow faintly red. Tiny beads of blood seeped from his pores, hissing into vapor the instant they met the heat of the raging currents.
His cellular activity was so intense that his blood was literally burning and evaporating inside his body.
Yet even then, the smile on Darren's face stayed savage and exultant. He showed no intention of stopping the Magnetic Field Rotation. Instead, he drowned himself in the ecstasy of his rising power, in the mingled agony and exhilaration.
Pain and pleasure, braided together.
Saint Michael stiffened. He didn't understand what "primitive illiterate native" meant, but the undisguised contempt in Darren's tone lit a fire in his chest.
In an instant, a nameless fury exploded inside him.
"You really think you've already won, you insignificant insect?!"
Saint Michael burst into a cold, mad laugh. The ring of black flame around his neck flared higher as his near-immortal regeneration began stitching his torn flesh back together at terrifying speed.
"How long can you maintain this kind of extreme physical strain?"
"Ten seconds? Thirty? A minute at most?"
"You've gained strength that surpasses biological limits… and I possess regenerative power that surpasses those limits just as easily!"
"I don't even have to kill you. In your current state, your internal organs, blood vessels—even your cells—will soon collapse from the excessive magnetic-field stimulation!"
"In the end, victory will still—"
His words cut off abruptly as his pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Two kilometers away, Darren's figure vanished.
A sharp gust roared up behind Saint Michael, sending his blood-stained silver fur streaming. His slit-pupiled eyes darted wildly as they flared with a deep crimson light. He pushed his Observation Haki—already honed to the level of precognition—to its very threshold.
Suddenly—
"Who said raw strength was the only thing I gained?"
A rough, chilling laugh rolled past his left ear.
Saint Michael's face twisted as he snapped his head around, vertical pupils blazing with red. The Silver Wolf's claws ripped downward with a shriek of rending air—
And tore only through a fading arc of lightning.
At the same time, the ground where Darren had stood in the distance collapsed, dozens of earthen pillars erupting into the sky.
That speed!
Saint Michael's mind reeled.
Darren's instantaneous burst had already caught up to—and perhaps even surpassed—his own full-power Silver Wolfman speed, augmented by Shadow Power.
In that one explosive moment, Darren's speed had outstripped thunder itself.
How is that even possible?!
There was no time to think.
Saint Michael poured everything into his Observation Haki, "seeing" slivers of the immediate future and slashing wildly, one claw after another, at the lightning-cloaked blur flickering through the air.
Chhh! Chhh! Chhh!
Silver-white claw marks carved deep ravines across the earth, howling through the air—only to rake empty space again and again.
He couldn't land a single hit on Darren's physical body.
Too fast.
Even with Observation Haki letting him glimpse what was about to happen, Saint Michael's strikes simply couldn't keep up.
His arms were too slow.
The infuriating sensation of watching Darren dance right in front of his eyes while his own claws only brushed the edges of a coat hem almost made Saint Michael cough blood.
In the time it took him to launch one attack, Darren's extreme speed allowed him to "teleport" ten meters away.
From Dragon's vantage point, locked in combat with the two CP0 agents, the scene playing out in the distance was downright surreal.
Darren's figure had vanished completely.
Meanwhile, the Commander of the Knights of God—the "strongest Celestial Dragon"—was roaring like a madman, wildly flailing at empty air, locked in a hopeless duel against… nothing.
"Damn you, vermin!"
Saint Michael's screech cracked with rage. His composure snapped, giving way to a furious, brutal impatience.
Then, reflected in his pupils, he saw it—a figure blazing with lightning like a living inferno.
"I was trying to be a gentleman at first…"
Boom!
A thunderous whip kick smashed into Saint Michael's face, tearing away half of it in a spray of mangled flesh and blood.
He staggered back, gritting his teeth against the tearing pain, planting his feet and driving a clawed hand forward on instinct.
"It's you bastards who refuse to die…"
Darren's roar was almost feral. Twisted lightning coiled around his right arm like a hurricane as he drove a punch straight through.
"…who forced me to do this!"
Crack!
The devastating blow obliterated Saint Michael's outstretched claw, forearm, flesh, bone—his entire shoulder—reducing it all to a storm of blood and gore.
To be continued...