The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 217 - 119: Taming Enma

The sunlight blazed. The shade beneath the trees was cool.

On the beach of the island, the tide rose and fell rhythmically, waves slapping against the rocky shore and piling up white spray.

Darren slowly opened his heavy eyelids, feeling as though every muscle in his body had been torn apart. A tsunami of exhaustion and pain surged over him.

"So heavy..."

He muttered, glancing down—only to see a delicate, breathtaking face nestled peacefully against his chest.

"Mr. Darren... you'll protect me, right?"

Amatsuki Toki, curled up like a sleeping kitten, mumbled softly as she buried her head against him, her lips twitching with half-conscious murmurs.

"Mr. Darren is so handsome... No, Mr. Darren..."

"S-soft... softer..."

A faint blush spread across her pale cheeks.

Darren: "..."

What kind of dream is that, exactly...?

"Ahem."

Darren gave a quiet cough.

He wasn't some monk untouched by beauty.

But right now, his injuries were still severe, and his shoulder—used as a pillow—had gone numb.

"Mm..."

Toki let out a sleepy sound and slowly awoke.

Her eyes, wide and deer-like, fluttered open—only to meet Darren's amused, half-smiling gaze.

Their eyes locked.

"Ah!!"

It was as if she'd been struck by lightning. She bolted upright from his chest, her face blazing crimson.

"Um... Mr. Darren, I'm so sorry..."

"I-I was just too tired, and I fell asleep without meaning to..."

She fumbled for words, flustered and red-faced, avoiding his gaze as she nervously twisted her slender fingers in front of her.

Darren chuckled and looked down at his torso.

The bandages were strips torn from his own shirt. Whoever tied them had no medical training—they were wrapped haphazardly and finished with a tiny, lopsided bow.

"Clearly, Miss Toki, you're not much of a healer."

Toki bit her lip in embarrassment, her entire face flushed.

"I-I..."

She stammered helplessly for so long that Darren couldn't help but laugh.

"Just teasing. Thank you for taking care of me, Miss Toki."

Toki mustered her courage and looked him in the eyes, whispering like a mosquito:

"You can just... call me Toki."

Darren nodded.

"Alright, Toki. Then just call me Darren, too."

He glanced around.

"Toki, how many days has it been?"

Toki exhaled gently and replied:

"One day."

Only one?

Darren reached into his pants and retrieved a pack of cigarettes, lighting one.

As smoke curled into the sky, his thoughts drifted.

His battle with Oden—he'd been prepared for it.

What he hadn't expected... was just how close he'd come to killing him.

To be honest, setting aside Oden's flashy swordsmanship and Haki, his close-quarters combat was clearly underdeveloped.

Maybe that had to do with Wano's customs.

Wano resembled a certain country from Earth during its shogunate era.

Though the shogun ruled in name, true power belonged to the regional daimyo who governed their territories.

The nation was strictly hierarchical. Loyalty to the shogun was embedded in the soul of every citizen.

The samurai—Wano's greatest military force—were the enforcers of this rule. Practitioners of "Bushido," they were weapons of control as much as warriors.

The world knew the samurai for their peerless swordsmanship.

But Oden had never left that closed land. He'd never fought a true hand-to-hand powerhouse.

And that gave Darren the opening he needed.

"...What a waste."

Darren rubbed his temples and gave a wry smile.

If the Whitebeard Pirates hadn't arrived in time, he would've finished the kill.

"What was a waste, Mr. Darren?"

Toki tilted her head curiously.

"That I didn't meet you sooner."

Darren said it without missing a beat.

Toki's face immediately flushed. Her heart pounded wildly.

Some lines only worked with the right face.

If someone like Tokikake had said that, the result would've been... grotesque.

Suddenly, Darren seemed to remember something. He gestured with his hand.

Whoosh!

A streak of black light shot from the depths of the forest, cutting a deep trench into the earth with its sharp pressure, then stopped firmly before Darren.

A three-pronged tsuba, a blade etched with violet-black flame patterns—cold, merciless, and terrifyingly sharp.

Toki shuddered at the sight of it.

She couldn't explain it, but as the sword approached, a chill filled the air. Even the warm sunlight seemed unable to pierce the oppressive cold.

"Mr. Darren, that sword..."

"Enma. One of Wano's national treasures. A demonic weapon forged for slaughter."

Darren narrowed his eyes, staring at the hovering black blade.

He slowly stood up and untied the bow from his bandages.

Toki panicked.

"Mr. Darren, your wounds! It's only been a day—you shouldn't—"

"Eh!?"

Her bright eyes widened as her lips parted in a soft "O."

As the blood-stained bandages fell away, Darren's sculpted physique was revealed.

Like a leopard carved of steel—his body bore savage scars, each one telling a story of battle. The muscle beneath was raw power and dominance.

The wounds on his chest and waist had already scabbed over. At the edges, fresh pink flesh was beginning to regrow.

"This..."

Toki could hardly believe her eyes.

"You'll get used to it. My body's just... built differently."

Darren winked at her, then turned back to Enma, ignoring her reddened cheeks.

Enma—the blade said to cut through to the bottom of hell.

In the original story, the sword would drain its user's Armament Haki without permission, unleashing terrifying power.

Ordinary users would die—drained dry.

Zoro had to struggle to tame it. And in the final battle, it helped crown him "King of Hell."

In his own fight, Darren had used the Magnet-Magnet Fruit to force the blade into submission—but he hadn't truly tamed Enma.

"Well then... let's see what I'm made of." fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Madness sparked in Darren's eyes.

He reached out—and gripped Enma's hilt!

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To be continued...