Evening, Base Commander's Office.
Daren stood shirtless in front of the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, a lit cigar clamped between his teeth as he looked down at the 321st Division from above.
Warships patrolled the island on their designated routes. On the training grounds, rows of Marines drilled in formation—their shouts and the sound of strikes echoing intermittently. Others, dressed in uniform, carried out routine maintenance on the artillery and docked ships.
The setting sun cast a golden glow through the windows, lighting up the tall frame of the Marine Captain and stretching his shadow across the floor. Smoke curled around his face, making his eyes appear even more intense.
"Progress really is slowing down…"
He exhaled a puff of smoke, muttering with a touch of resignation.
Looking down, he eyed the scabbed-over wounds on his palms and chest. A good night's sleep and they'd be mostly healed by morning. His superhuman physique granted him exceptional defense—and an equally terrifying ability to recover.
Routine training could no longer yield improvements. His body had already fully adapted to the intensity of such external stress and stimuli.
That's why, after returning from the Germa Kingdom, he decided to drag Momonga, Gion, and Tokikake into a round of "special training."
On one hand, it helped them unlock their potential faster and sharpen their skills. On the other, it gave him a way to challenge himself with new stimuli.
While the three combined weren't enough to truly pressure him, sparring and brawling with them did shake loose the stagnation in his physical growth, allowing his stats to tick upward.
No matter how you looked at it, the talent of those three could rank among the top across the entire sea.
With that thought, Daren gradually quieted his mind. Using his innate "perception," he honed in on his physical state, calling up his personal data panel:
Physique: 61.753
Strength: 57.192
Speed: 59.241
Fruit: 72.111
Aside from his Devil Fruit ability, his physique, strength, and speed had only increased by about 0.5 to 0.8 over the past month—and even that was grinding to a halt. Most of the gains were thanks to the past ten days of intense training with the trio.
As for developing his Devil Fruit power, progress was even slower.
Knock, knock, knock...
A gentle knock broke through Daren's thoughts.
"Come in," he said calmly.
The office door opened, and Momonga stepped in, dressed sharply in his uniform and military cap.
Daren poured him a glass of chilled whiskey and handed it over with a smile.
"How are you holding up?"
Momonga took the glass and gave a wry grin through clenched teeth.
"Not great. Not everyone's a lunatic like you who enjoys the thrill of getting beaten up."
These past ten days of "special training" had been brutal. He hadn't had a single decent night's sleep. Every session left his whole body aching, as if his bones had come apart. Even lying in bed, his muscles screamed in pain.
Daren just shrugged and laughed.
"Pain's a good thing—it reminds you you're alive."
"And in combat, feeling your opponent's blows with your own body lets you sense their strength, speed, physique, even their will... That's how you find their weakness."
Momonga rolled his eyes and drained the glass in one go.
That was just like Daren. He could easily dodge with his speed and explosive bursts, but more often than not, he just didn't bother.
His savage, brute-force fighting style was in stark contrast to his cunning and adaptable political tactics. Faced with a choice between dodging or taking a hit head-on, he always chose the latter.
It was a style forged over years—likely influenced by his former superior, Sakazuki.
He preferred trading blows, gambling everything at the most dangerous moment.
A man like that was the last kind of opponent anyone wanted to face.
Like a crazed, starving wolf...
Even with crushed organs...
Even with broken limbs...
He'd still grin through the blood and tear a chunk of flesh off you with his last remaining fangs.
Hearing Momonga's complaints, Daren just chuckled and topped off his glass.
"It's not a good habit to dodge in battle. It makes you timid, hesitant, and indecisive."
"Once you get used to dodging, you start relying on it subconsciously. Before long, your movements become predictable to the enemy."
"If you're always planning an escape route during a fight, sure, you might have a way out—but you're also giving up your shot at victory."
"Dodging, as a habit, isn't good for personal growth."
"Willpower, spirit, the determination to win, and the edge between life and death... those are the real keys to improving combat strength."
After a pause, Daren added thoughtfully:
"There's only one Borsalino in this sea."
The image of that "monster" with his weird, sarcastic smirk flashed through his mind. Even someone as serious and stern as Momonga couldn't help the twitch at the corner of his mouth.
He sighed and said, half helplessly,
"But if you keep betting your life every time with no way out... how many lives do you think you've got?"
Daren raised his glass and took a slow sip.
"Who knows?"
His deep gaze drifted out to the distant sea, the smoke from his cigar curling around his sharp, flawless profile. His steady voice echoed through the empty office.
"But you only live once. I just want to live freely."
"To me, life is simple. Either move forward or fall back."
"Falling back... sure, that's easy."
"And when it happens the first time, you lie to yourself. 'It's fine, just hold back this once. Just avoid it for now—there'll be another chance later…' But the thing is, once there's a first time, there'll be a second."
"Step by step—retreating, dodging, compromising... can you really say you're still the same person?"
"There are a thousand reasons to back down, but only one reason to keep moving forward. And that one reason... is enough."
A smile slowly tugged at the corners of Daren's lips.
"I'd rather die than lose."
He clenched his fist.
"I want to win."
Momonga fell silent.
Hearing those words, he knew Daren wasn't just talking about battle. Every sentence echoed the choices Daren had made again and again in the past.
One step back, and the rest follow.
It was true in combat.
True when facing Germa 66, one of the world's top military powers.
And true even when facing the Celestial Dragons, holders of supreme authority.
"Swallow your pride"... those words had never existed in Rogers Daren's dictionary.
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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