"Damn it! He didn't fall for it!"
Garp gritted his teeth in frustration and let out a disgruntled snort.
Ever since the fall of the Rocks era, he'd been chasing Roger across the seas—from the East Blue to the Grand Line, and from there into the New World.
There were several times on land when he had cornered Roger into a desperate position, but each time, the carefully crafted battle plans by Tsuru and Sengoku had been ruined by Rayleigh's timely interventions.
Unlike Roger, who always lost himself in the heat of battle, Rayleigh remained calm and level-headed, analyzing the flow of combat and pulling Roger back from recklessness when it mattered most.
Garp had to admit: in many ways, Rayleigh—the Dark King, Roger's right hand—was even harder to deal with than Roger himself.
With that thought, he shook his head, let out a heavy sigh, and reached for the lifeline thrown down from the deck of the warship, finally hauling himself out of the sea.
The other Marines who had jumped ship at his command before the Oro Jackson took flight were also clambering aboard the lifeboats one by one.
"Where's that kid Daren?! How is he?!"
Garp hadn't even set foot on the deck when he asked, urgency in his voice and pace quickening unconsciously.
They had nearly captured the entire Roger Pirates this time—Daren had made a huge contribution. With his potential, talent, and achievements, Garp didn't want anything to happen to him.
But then he stopped in his tracks, stunned.
His jaw clenched. His fists tightened without realizing.
The warship was deathly quiet.
No one said a word.
The sea howled endlessly, and cold, hazy rain fell from the pitch-black sky.
Raindrops pelted the sails, the wreckage, and the pale, grief-stricken faces of the Marines, turning them into unmoving statues, as if they had lost their souls.
On the deck before Garp, the Marine Commodore lay there like a man made of blood. His uniform had been shredded into tatters.
A horrifying wound stretched from the left side of his neck all the way down to his right abdomen, nearly splitting his body in half.
Torn flesh and gleaming bone were exposed, and the faint pulsing of internal organs behind the ribs could be seen.
His right arm was mangled—skin torn open, large swaths of flesh gone, blood pouring out.
The Commodore's face was deathly pale, his eyes tightly shut.
His breathing was faint—like a dying flame.
Tokikake and Gion knelt beside him, eyes red-rimmed with emotion.
Through the breeze, Dragon staggered into view, blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He looked like he was in terrible shape too.
"Doctor, what's his condition?"
Dragon's voice was low and ice-cold, brimming with barely suppressed fury.
The military doctor, already at Daren's side, was desperately working to save him. Cold sweat drenched his forehead as he pressed hard on Daren's arterial wound, struggling to speak.
"Commodore Daren's wounds are critical—he's suffered massive internal injuries. The aorta's been severed, and the blood loss is severe. Compared to that, his arm is nothing."
"But with this much blood loss… if we can't stop the bleeding soon, I'm afraid…"
He didn't finish the sentence.
But the sorrow in his voice was enough for everyone to understand what he meant.
"No—you will save him!! Or I swear I'll make you taste my Iron Fist!"
Bloodshot eyes blazing, Garp grabbed the doctor by the collar, growling.
"Vice Admiral Garp!!"
"Old man!"
Gion and Dragon both pulled him back.
Dragon let out a long breath, then turned to the doctor and bowed slightly, his tone earnest.
"Doctor… is there anything else that can be done?"
"Please… do everything you can."
The doctor froze for a second, moved by the sincerity in Dragon's eyes. He furrowed his brow and thought for a moment before saying,
"Right now, there's no real way to save him… These kinds of injuries aren't something a normal human can survive."
"We'll try a transfusion. It might buy time to close the wound and stop the bleeding. Does anyone here have S-type blood?"
Everyone glanced at each other.
S-type blood was extremely rare on these seas.
"I do."
A cool voice suddenly cut through the silence.
Everyone turned to see—Gion.
"I'm S-type. Please, doctor—do it."
She rolled up her sleeve, revealing her pale arm.
Dark red blood slowly flowed from her veins through the tube and into Daren's body.
They lay side by side on the shattered deck—one unconscious, the other gazing at the falling rain with a complicated expression.
"It's no good... I'm sorry."
The doctor stopped stitching, shaking his head. His gloves were soaked red.
Hearing this, Garp, Dragon, and the others lowered their heads, jaws clenched tight.
"His injuries are too severe. Even if we close the wounds... it's unlikely he'll…"
"...What?"
The doctor suddenly widened his eyes in disbelief, voice trembling.
"The... the bleeding… it stopped?! That kind of wound... it actually—?!"
"A fatal wound, huh…?"
A faint, hoarse voice laced with a smile rose up.
The Marines, who had already lost all hope, looked up in shock—only to see the Commodore slowly crack open his heavy eyelids and give them a weak, strained smile.
Gion stared at him in disbelief.
"Lieutenant Commander Gion, judging by your stunned look, it seems you were really hoping I'd just die off…"
Daren's voice was barely a whisper, but he still managed to joke.
"But now we've got the same blood running through our veins. We're closer than ever."
"Oh, and when you were saving me just now…"
He blinked slowly.
"You were really soft."
A faint blush flickered across Gion's normally cold face. She scoffed, turned away, and snapped,
"You're such a scumbag. Of course you'd survive."
Dragon rubbed his temples. "Daren… your body…"
Daren shook his head slightly, signaling he was fine.
With effort, he turned his head and looked out to sea.
In the direction the Roger Pirates had vanished.
"What a shame, Vice Admiral Garp."
He murmured.
Garp was silent for a long while before replying softly,
"Daren, it's thanks to you… This was the first time I've ever cornered Roger like that on the open sea."
"…Just didn't expect his ship to have some high-speed propulsion hidden in it."
"It's fine,"
Daren smiled.
"Next time, he won't get away."
The Commodore was drenched, his body wracked with pain and exhaustion—so heavy it felt like the world itself was collapsing.
But he remained still, lying quietly, letting the rain wash down his face.
Then…
Slowly, trembling, he began to raise his hand.
The wind roared. The waves crashed.
The rain poured in sheets. The sky grew darker.
Rain streamed over his wounded hand, the white of his finger bones faintly visible.
Rip!
A bolt of pale lightning tore through the darkness, illuminating everything for a moment.
On the deck, Garp, Dragon, and the others widened their eyes, as if seeing something terrifying.
A reckless, fierce, and arrogant smile crept up from the corner of the Commodore's lips.
"I'm still alive," he muttered.
His bloodied hand clenched into a fist.
"Hahahahaha!! After fighting Gol D. Roger—I'm still alive!!!"
The ship rocked violently beneath the crashing waves.
Rain poured endlessly from the skies.
Amid the flickering thunder, a tattered seagull flag fluttered wildly.
The Commodore who defied death—
Laughed. Loud and free.
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake