With Toki's care and protection finally arranged, Darren exhaled slowly, the tension in his chest easing for the first time in weeks.
He owed her everything.
The Headquarters medical team truly lived up to its reputation—top-tier physicians, nutritionists, and personal nurses were already stationed by her side, ensuring every aspect of her health was meticulously managed. For once, Darren felt at peace knowing she was in the best hands possible.
After all, what was the point of fighting, bleeding, and clawing his way up through endless battles if not to give the person he loved a better life?
But Headquarters' protection could only go so far. Darren wasn't naïve enough to entrust Toki's safety solely to institutional security. He'd seen too much, learned too well how the world really worked.
The tragedy of Zephyr-sensei's family still haunted him.
The official story—that pirates had somehow infiltrated Marineford itself to murder the family of a sitting Admiral—was laughable. Marineford was the most fortified bastion on the planet. The idea that some random pirate could just stroll in and slaughter the family of one of the Marine's highest-ranking officers?
Utter nonsense.
Darren's lips curved into a cold, knowing smile.
Zephyr had never spoken publicly about it, and the rest of the Marines had kept silent. But Darren didn't need words to see the truth. The stench of political conspiracy was unmistakable.
And he could easily imagine who might have orchestrated such a vile act.
"Just a reminder of how fragile we all are," Darren murmured. "And how little Justice means when power's involved."
Having Sengoku arrange temporary protection for Toki was only a stopgap. Once her prenatal care stabilized, Darren would implement his own long-term measures—ones he could trust.
For now, though, the timing was favorable.
He still enjoyed the backing of Saint Warcury, one of the Gorosei themselves, and was officially working as their inside man within Marine ranks. So long as that alliance held, the World Government wouldn't dare make a move against him.
And even if they did…
Darren smirked, taking a slow drag from his cigar.
A flying admiral armed with Kaido's strength, a vicious mind, and zero hesitation to retaliate—if the World Government wanted to strike, they'd first have to consider whether they could survive his counterattack.
His mind drifted as the cigar burned low.
From Totto Land to Wano, from the Edd War to the Golden Lion's fall—he'd been fighting without pause for years. Now, with a brief moment of calm, he could finally turn his focus inward.
Toki's pregnancy had reminded him what truly mattered.
The North Blue Fleet. His greatest creation. His one irreplaceable trump card.
During the battle with the Golden Lion, its terrifying power had been proven beyond question. But Darren knew the fleet was still only a prototype of what it could become.
He wanted more—bigger, stronger, faster.
He envisioned a fully realized aerial armada of at least thirty battleships, each carrying fifty cannons and its own dedicated supply vessel. Enough provisions and ammunition to sustain independent operations for months.
A fleet that could move freely between seas, a skyborne force capable of striking anywhere in the world.
The concept far outstripped the technological limits of the age. But Darren had glimpsed fragments of similar systems in his past life—carrier groups, coordinated logistics, power projection. He couldn't reproduce them perfectly, but he could build the foundation.
Even so, the technical challenges were staggering.
Momonga's Rumble-Rumble Fruit might not be enough to keep thirty battleships in flight. Energy conversion, synchronization, propulsion—all needed refinement.
But Darren could already see it in his mind: thirty black silhouettes blotting out the sun, drifting across the skies like gods of war.
Even without firing a single shot, the deterrence alone would shake the world.
And within that fortress of steel and thunder, Toki would live safely—untouchable, beyond the reach of pirates, nobles, or even the Celestial Dragons themselves.
"I just need time," Darren murmured, tapping ash from his cigar. "And the right opportunity."
Knock, knock, knock…
A deep, familiar voice called from beyond the door.
"Young Darren?"
Darren's eyes brightened. "I'm here, Zephyr-sensei. Please, come in."
The door opened, and the tall, broad figure of Zephyr filled the frame. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his presence carried the same unyielding dignity Darren had always admired.
When he spotted his student sitting upright in bed with a cigar, his brows shot up. "You reckless brat! Still puffing away after nearly dying?"
Darren grinned. "You know what they say, Sensei—cigars don't kill Marines."
Zephyr paused, then chuckled softly. "True enough. Marines die on the battlefield."
He approached the bedside, his eyes softening. "How are you feeling, boy?"
Darren's grin turned genuine. "Better than I look. I'll be back in action soon."
Of all the people in his life, Zephyr was one of the few Darren truly respected. The man's stubborn, idealistic faith in Justice might have seemed outdated, but it was pure—and rare. Even after losing everything, Zephyr had never let his heart corrode.
In a world ruled by hypocrisy and cruelty, that made him extraordinary.
"Good," Zephyr said absently. "That's—wait, what did you just say?"
His eyes narrowed suddenly.
"Did you just say indestructible?"
Darren froze, the cigar halfway to his lips.
…Crap. I slipped.
To be continued...