This was the absolute confidence of Saint Topman Warcury, Warrior God of Justice—one of the mightiest combatants the World Government had ever produced. Even during their clash on Felsek Island, his Fengxi form had possessed defensive power nearly equal to Darren's "Indestructible Body."
Armament Haki surged to the surface of the giant boar's skull, compressing into a dense aura that warped the air into visible ripples.
Anyone watching could imagine it clearly—if Fengxi's headbutt struck an iron fortress, the entire structure would explode into rubble before it even finished vibrating.
"You're still centuries too young to beat us, brat!"
Warcury roared and drove his massive head downward like a falling mountain.
BOOM!
A shockwave thundered across the plaza, black and crimson lightning erupting violently as the remnants of their Conqueror's Haki collided.
Caught off guard, Darren was blasted skyward. His head snapped back, hair flaring wildly, a thin line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth.
He exhaled sharply—dazed for half a heartbeat—then grinned, blood staining his teeth.
"You hit hard for a boar, I'll give you that."
A tremor ran through Warcury's massive frame. His pupils contracted.
My full-force strike… didn't even seriously injure him?!
Before he could process the shock, Darren reached out mid-air, seizing both tusks in his hands. Black-purple Armament surged up Darren's forehead, hardening into an ironlike sheen.
Warcury sensed danger—too late.
Darren's smile sharpened.
"But are you harder than I am?"
The world cracked.
Darren slammed his forehead into Warcury's skull with rocketlike force.
Indestructible.
BOOOOM!!
The impact swallowed the plaza in a single, deafening explosion. Warcury's colossal head was driven into the earth like a meteor, carving a crater that spiderwebbed across half the plaza.
Debris shot upward. Dust rolled in violent waves. The Fengxi's brain spun from the blow, pupils trembling, blood vessels bursting red across his eyes.
Impossible… I'm losing in both strength and defense?
What is this brat's body made of?
The other Gorosei felt their hearts lurch.
They panted lightly—massive forms wrapped in black flame, flesh knitting back together—but their gazes were locked on Darren.
Future Sight Observation Haki.
Speed surpassing Bakotsu Nusjuro.
Reactions superior to Itsumade Mars.
Raw defense and power overwhelming both Sandworm Peter and Fengxi Warcury.
The plaza froze in eerie silence.
Five monstrous, godlike figures stood upon the ruined earth—yet the lone black-haired youth hovering above them seemed to press down on the world with an even greater aura.
"You think you can defeat us, Darren?"
Gyuki Saturn rose from a deep crater, spiderlike legs skittering forward. Half his face was still regenerating in black flame.
Darren wiped away the blood and smiled. "Strange confidence coming from you. I'm not the one who's been flattened five times in a row."
With no visible motion, four streaks of icy light split the sky. Four swords hovered beside him—Kogarashi, Oto, Ame no Habakiri, and Enma—circling like hunters awaiting their prey.
Saint Saturn didn't bother looking at them.
Driven by Darren's Haki, the Meito were dangerous—but nowhere near enough to breach the Gorosei's bodies.
"Pointless," Saturn hissed. "No matter how many times you try, nothing you do can truly threaten us."
He turned to the others. "Let's finish this together. We can't let this brat keep running loose."
Then his cold gaze shifted toward a distant statue.
"Figarland Garling. Have you watched enough?"
On the shoulder of a colossal monument, a figure with a crimson crescent-moon hairstyle reclined casually, legs crossed, smirking down at them.
Garling lifted his hands in mock apology.
"My apologies, truly. I assumed five ancient monsters like you could handle one troublesome boy."
He rose gracefully, drawing the griffin-hilted rapier at his hip.
"Long time no see, Darren."
Darren chuckled. "It has been a while, Saint Garling Excellency."
Garling's smile thinned.
"I once admired your talent. Rare, brilliant… wasted."
"In the end, you made a catastrophic mistake."
Darren laughed. "Funny. I don't feel that way."
Garling's eyes narrowed.
Clang!
His rapier flashed, parrying the black katana that slashed toward him. Sparks spiraled into the air.
"Demon Blade… Enma," he murmured. "Such a treasure is wasted on someone like you. It belongs to one worthy of wielding it."
Darren smirked. "Good thing I brought four."
He flicked his wrist.
The other three Meito blazed outward, interlocking into a deadly lattice that sealed off every escape.
Garling parried without effort, each movement smooth and elegant. "Your swordsmanship lacks grace. Did you truly think that messy technique would work?"
"No," Darren's voice answered from behind him. "I didn't."
Garling's heart lurched.
When did he get behind me—?!
"Your speech earlier was inspiring," Darren murmured, his tone almost amused. "But my Dragon Claw moves people just as deeply."
Garling spun, unleashing a sky-splitting slash to repel the Meito.
What he saw next froze his blood.
A pitch-black, three-fingered Dragon Claw launched toward his heart—swift, merciless, and absolute.
To be continued...