The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History

At the sight, Trebol and the others exchanged subtle glances—then dropped to one knee and bowed their heads in unison.

"Greetings, Godfather Darren."

They had no choice but to submit.

The man before them—this monster—had, on his own, annihilated the legendary Golden Lion Shiki's entire fleet.

Especially now, with the dreadful aura faintly radiating from Darren's body… it sent chills down their spines, made their hearts race uncontrollably.

No matter how proud they were, no matter what reputation they held as underworld giants of the North Blue—before absolute strength, they were no more than ants.

In that vast council hall, only Darren remained standing.

He smiled, pleased.

"Very good. I do admire those who understand proper etiquette."

Darren walked forward at a leisurely pace, extending his hand for Doflamingo to kiss the back of.

"You all know I've been rather busy lately—haven't returned to the North Blue much. But from the look of things, you've done well. The underworld here is running like clockwork. That… I'm quite satisfied with."

The others rose carefully, still visibly uneasy.

Darren slouched casually onto a plush leather sofa, lighting a gold-foil cigar. His gaze fell on Doflamingo, seated across from him.

It had been more than half a year since they last met. The boy had grown.

Gone was the little runt who had first arrived in the North Blue. Now, Doflamingo had taken on the stature of a young man.

His messy blond hair resembled a crown. His sharp facial contours, a height nearing one-eighty—his very presence hinted at the dark majesty of a future world emperor.

Through Observation Haki, Darren sensed it clearly—his aura had grown markedly stronger.

He felt a twinge of reflection.

There was no denying it: Doflamingo was gifted. In terms of raw talent alone, he far surpassed Momonga.

If Darren hadn't entrusted the Rumble-Rumble Fruit to Momonga, suppressing the ambitions of someone like Doflamingo in the North Blue would have been no easy feat.

After all, Momonga had Darren's direct guidance and training.

And Doflamingo?

He had nothing but a bunch of sycophants like Trebol. Yet even so, he had managed to develop the String-String Fruit to this level purely through his own experimentation. That said everything about his innate talent.

"Godfather… this time you've returned to the North Blue—is it for…"

As Darren studied him, Doflamingo carefully probed the older man's intentions.

Darren chuckled.

"Can't a godfather come check in on his godson?"

He exhaled a ring of smoke, his voice tinged with something like regret.

"To be honest, Doffy, I haven't been a very competent godfather. My guidance to you has been… insufficient, to say the least."

"This time, aside from handling some North Blue fleet matters, I wanted to make up for that shortcoming."

That pronouncement stunned the room.

Doflamingo asked uncertainly:

"Godfather… you mean… you want to train me?"

Darren sighed.

"That's right. As my godson, if you remain too weak, it reflects rather poorly on me, doesn't it?"

…

Ten days passed in the blink of an eye.

Above a desolate island in the North Blue—

Two figures glided swiftly through the sky, one leading, the other following.

"Just like that—use your strings to hook onto clouds, pull your body along. That's how you create your own aerial path."

Darren, riding a sleek metal hoverboard with hands in his pockets, floated backward effortlessly as he instructed Doflamingo.

"Keep your balance. Otherwise, when shifting between strings, you'll expose an opening."

A grin tugged at Darren's lips as he watched the younger man's slightly clumsy movements.

Compared to Darren's smooth and nimble flight, Doflamingo's form was clearly more rigid. He stumbled through the air, forehead beaded with sweat.

"Incredible talent… barely an hour in, and he's already got the basics of aerial travel down…"

Darren narrowed his eyes as he observed. As time passed, Doflamingo's control noticeably improved—until Darren beckoned with one finger.

Shing!

A flash of silver whistled through the sky—racing toward Doflamingo.

His pupils shrank in alarm.

Sensing danger, he instinctively swiped his hand forward.

Clang!!

Dozens of near-invisible threads intercepted the silver longsword, sparks flying at the point of contact.

"What was that…?"

Darren smirked.

"Time to raise the difficulty."

As the words left his mouth, the Skillful Grade Blade Kariumi dissolved into a flurry of sword shadows, filling the sky—engulfing Doflamingo in a storm of steel.

His expression shifted. His movements quickened.

He weaved invisible threads through the air, tethering to clouds and swinging like a child on a jungle gym—all while fending off blades coming from every angle.

The pressure skyrocketed.

Darren's assault was relentless. Soon, cuts bloomed across Doflamingo's body. Blood seeped through his white shirt and soaked his pink feathered coat.

On the ground below, Trebol and the others watched in shock, hearts clenching with worry. But they were helpless. All they could do was pray—that the "King of the North Blue" wouldn't "accidentally" kill their young master during this training.

"What's wrong, Doffy? Is that all you've got?"

Darren lit another cigar, hands still in his pockets, deliberately provoking him.

"Just taking hits? That's not your style."

"I'm not even moving… or are you saying you can't even land a blow on one of my swords?"

Beneath his sunglasses, Doflamingo's eyes burned red. He growled through gritted teeth:

"Damn it… shut up!!"

Threads exploded from his fingers, weaving into a web that ensnared the oncoming blades and locked them tight.

Then—

With a sudden yank, his coat flaring behind him, he rocketed forward—blurring through the sky to Darren's position.

"I'm Donquixote Doflamingo!!"

His five fingers slashed downward.

"Overheat!"

Shk!!

Five razor-sharp strings pierced Darren's flesh, embedding deep into his ironlike muscles.

Blood spattered, droplets flicking across Darren's face.

At last, he laughed.

"Good. You finally broke through my defenses."

A thick puff of white smoke left his lips—then the Rear Admiral's figure vanished like a ghost.

Doflamingo froze.

Before he could react, a black military boot filled his vision.

BOOM!!

He crashed into the ground like a cannonball, carving a massive crater into the island below.

"Doffy!!"

"Are you alright!?"

"Young master!!"

Trebol and the others ran over, panic written across their faces. As they tried to lift his blood-drenched form, Doflamingo batted their hands away.

Gasping, his battered body knelt in the pit, blood dripping from his frame as he glared upward at the descending figure.

That man walked toward him, one step at a time.

A towering silhouette that seemed to blot out the sun, casting a vast shadow over Doflamingo.

He reached out his hand.

As it slowly moved toward him, something flickered in Doflamingo's eyes—an emotion resembling… fear.

But the hand simply ruffled his hair gently.

Doflamingo froze.

"You've grown fast. I'm proud of you, Doffy."

The man smiled.

"Keep growing. Get stronger."

"Because only by becoming strong enough… will you be able to kill me. Isn't that right?"

Before Doflamingo could respond, Darren stepped onto his board and soared away, disappearing into the horizon.

The island fell utterly silent.

"D-Doffy?"

Trebol whispered, seeing his young master still kneeling in a daze.

Doflamingo's gaze flickered. Then, slowly, he rose.

Blood trickled down from his forehead, pooling under his chin.

But he continued to stare at the sky, at the place where Darren had vanished.

"Tell me… why would that man teach me so patiently? Help me grow stronger?"

He clenched his fists.

In just ten days, Darren's instruction had surpassed half a year of solitary training.

And he hadn't held anything back.

He had openly taught him techniques to develop his Devil Fruit, close combat strategies, and even Marine training secrets.

"…Doesn't he know I've always wanted to kill him?"

Confusion and frustration burned behind Doflamingo's glasses.

Trebol and the others said nothing. They'd witnessed his progress firsthand. They too, had no answer.

"Forget it. Let's go."

Doflamingo shook his head, his voice once more calm, imperious.

But perhaps—just perhaps—

Deep inside, in a place he wouldn't admit even to himself…

When that man ruffled his hair—

He felt something.

Something his cowardly, useless biological father had never given him—

Warmth.

And… safety.

---

To be continued…