"I'm not exactly sure how, but after some basic stitching and bandaging, Commodore Daren's condition is already showing signs of recovery..."
In the warship's infirmary, the doctor reported to Garp with a puzzled expression.
As he spoke, he couldn't help glancing curiously at the unconscious Marine Commodore lying in bed, hooked up to an IV drip.
"Commodore Daren's physical resilience is like nothing I've ever seen in all my years of medicine. His organ vitality, muscle durability, and recovery rate far exceed standard human limits."
"But Vice Admiral Garp, I recommend that once we return to Marine Headquarters, we have the military hospital conduct a full examination on him. These injuries were truly life-threatening."
At that last sentence, both the doctor and Garp twitched at the corners of their mouths.
Just a minor fatal wound...
"Mm. Thanks, Doctor," Garp nodded. Then he paused, scratched his head awkwardly, and added, "You know… earlier, I was just panicking. I wasn't actually going to hit you."
The doctor smiled, waved it off, and left the cabin.
Garp let out a long breath and stood silently, arms crossed, gazing at the unconscious man.
"Old man, the route's been set. We should reach Marineford in about three days."
Dragon entered the room, pushing the door open.
He wasn't in uniform—just draped in a wide Justice cloak. The wound from Roger's slash across his chest had been wrapped in bandages, still stained with fresh blood.
Garp gave a noncommittal grunt and didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on Daren.
"What's wrong, old man?"
Dragon stepped beside him, frowning.
"Didn't the doctor say Daren's stabilized?"
"I've just been thinking," Garp said quietly, eyes still on Daren. "Why isn't my son as talented as this kid?"
Dragon: "..."
Suppressing the urge to snap, he forced a strained smile.
"Daren really is something."
He took a deep breath, his expression turning reflective.
"If it had been me, before I learned to use Haki... I'm not sure I would've dared to face that slash from Roger head-on."
Staring at Daren, he muttered, "He's truly remarkable…"
"The North Blue really does produce monsters, huh?"
Garp chuckled.
"Sakazuki's not bad either. That chaotic sea breeds a lot of ruthless fighters. Why do you think Sengoku assigned Tokikake and Gion to the North Blue?"
"At least now, after this trip, they've shed some of that naivety."
"Good thing Daren didn't back down when it mattered."
Conqueror's Haki...
Garp narrowed his eyes slightly.
Seeing his father analyze a young Marine so seriously, Dragon couldn't help but grumble.
"I'm not that bad either, you know, old man..."
As if remembering something, he suddenly posed proudly like he was presenting a treasure.
His index and middle fingers came together, as did his ring and pinky. All five fingers curled slightly into a claw-like form.
"This is a new technique I developed. Like a dragon's claw—rips through anything with devastating piercing power!"
Jet-black Armament Haki instantly coated his hand, making his dragon-claw slash look like it had indestructible talons. He clawed through the air with force.
CRACK!
A sharp snap echoed through the room.
Garp narrowed his eyes. Internally, he approved—but outwardly, he stayed calm.
"Hmm. Not bad, but a little flashy."
"Listen, brat. As long as your fist is hard enough, there's nothing in this world that can stop you."
He raised his own fist for emphasis.
Dragon flushed red and quickly defended himself.
"That move was Daren's idea!"
There were countless fistfighters on the sea—but the only one known as "Iron Fist" was Garp himself.
"Oh?" Garp raised an eyebrow, then suddenly chuckled as if everything made sense.
"Daren came up with it? No wonder. I knew from the start it wasn't ordinary... If you combine it with a second burst of Armament Haki, it could deal serious damage instantly."
Dragon froze.
Now it's extraordinary?
Didn't you just call it flashy!?
Clutching his chest, he turned around, full of resentment, and silently left the cabin.
Garp shrugged at his son's back, plopped into a chair, leaned back, and crossed his legs comfortably.
With a wide yawn, he closed his eyes.
"Ryusoken... he really is my son."
A proud smile slowly crept onto his face.
...
At the same time, somewhere on the Grand Line...
The sea was calm, and seabirds drifted lazily overhead.
"Damn Garp! Damn that brat Daren!!"
Aboard the swaying Oro Jackson, Roger sat cross-legged on the deck like a sulking child, angrily chugging from a bottle of booze.
Rayleigh leaned against the mast, sighing as he rubbed his temples.
"How bad's the damage to the ship?"
He turned to Moon Isaac Jr., their scientist—an odd-looking man with a huge hooked nose.
Isaac shook his head.
"The hull's taken over thirty percent damage. It's still seaworthy for now, but we need to find a place for repairs soon. Also, the Cannon's fuel is completely spent—we'll need to restock as soon as possible."
Rayleigh's expression darkened.
"The King of the North Blue…"
This was the worst position the Roger Pirates had been in since the battle at God Valley.
And the main reason?
A Marine named Rogers Daren.
"Ruthless and shameless... Those kinds of tactics don't belong in a Marine's playbook,"
Gaban muttered coldly, still polishing his twin axes.
He had taken the brunt of Daren's Railgun at the crucial moment—so he knew exactly what he was talking about.
That shot hadn't been aimed at any crewmate—it was aimed straight at the ship itself.
Forget being cunning or low—Daren's judgment and execution had been precise and terrifying.
"I looked into it. That guy's infamous in the North Blue—everyone knows him as a scumbag."
Rayleigh gave a dry smile.
"A strong hero with a devious brain... When an unstoppable fist is paired with sharp thinking—that combo's practically unbeatable."
He and Gaban exchanged a glance, both catching the caution in each other's eyes.
"Hey, hey, Rayleigh, Gaban... when are we getting to land!?"
Roger, face flushed and reeking of alcohol, staggered over with a jug in hand, slinging his arms around their shoulders with a grin.
Rayleigh and Gaban groaned, covering their faces.
"What is it now?" Rayleigh muttered.
Roger burped, then suddenly scowled as if remembering something.
"I need to get a new belt buckle... yeah, make it plastic!"
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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