The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 243 - 145: Tastes Like Shit

Darren had seen it coming long before Momonga ever voiced a word.

He understood Doflamingo's talent better than anyone.

Awakening Conqueror's Haki at just eight years old.

Taking what seemed like a useless String-String Fruit and molding it into a fearsome arsenal—attack, control, regeneration, duplication, and wide-range annihilation all bound into one terrible power.

That kind of innate potential was unmatched—even across the whole pirate world.

And when paired with his ruthless, sadistic nature, there were few on these seas who could truly compare.

Momonga had talent—of that Darren had no doubt. In the original timeline, he rose to become a Vice Admiral, a cornerstone of Marine justice, trusted with the hardest missions. But compared to a man born to rule the shadows, like Doflamingo, he still fell short.

And in these early stages, without access to Haki, Devil Fruit users simply held the upper hand.

Maybe—for now—Momonga could suppress Doflamingo using his swordsmanship and battlefield experience.

But that edge would shrink. Time would turn it into pressure. And eventually... he would be outpaced.

There was no denying that.

The solution? Obvious on paper.

Send Momonga to the Elite Officer Training Camp. Let him catch the next wave. Teach him the Rokushiki. Help him awaken Haki.

But that had its problems.

First—there was a long wait before the next training cycle began. Momonga needed power now.

Second—even if he mastered the Rokushiki quickly, Haki was another matter. Not everyone could awaken it through effort alone.

Which left only one path.

Darren smiled.

"I brought you a gift from the Grand Line."

Momonga blinked, puzzled. His guard was up again, just slightly.

"A gift?"

Darren waved toward the window. With a soft hum, a metallic container—smooth, silver, humming faintly—floated through the open frame and came to a gentle stop midair.

"A Devil Fruit."

Blue sparks danced between Darren's fingers. The metal box rippled, responding to the magnetic pulse. Its two halves slid apart, revealing what lay inside.

The moment Momonga laid eyes on it, his pupils tightened.

He stared—unblinking, breath caught—at the strange, golden fruit within. It radiated a terrible presence: wild, chaotic, and unknowable.

His lips thinned into a hard line. For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then his eyes flew wide.

"This is—!"

"The Rumble-Rumble Fruit," Darren confirmed, grin widening. "The strongest of all Logia."

Momonga could hardly believe what he was seeing.

A fruit of legend. Not only real—but here, in front of him.

His hands trembled. He couldn't look away.

It looked like a golden pineapple, lightning-like markings coursing across its surface. Its presence was undeniable—violent, living, almost divine.

The Rumble-Rumble Fruit.

The so-called mightiest Logia.

A power on par with natural disaster.

If he ate it, he would gain thunder itself.

This wasn't like any ordinary Logia.

This was lightning—the purest form of wrath from the heavens.

And as North Blue's Supreme Commander, Momonga had seen the Devil Fruit catalog through Darren's connections. They had hunted for years—scouring the seas for even whispers of such power.

And now... it sat before him.

But just as that surge of awe threatened to sweep him away—

"No."

He drew in a sharp breath and tore his gaze away.

"No, Darren. That fruit—should be yours."

His voice was steady. His bloodshot eyes held firm.

Darren massaged his temples, exhaling smoke with an air of exasperation.

"You forgot I already ate the Magnet-Magnet Fruit?"

"One person. One Devil Fruit. Try to eat two, and your body explodes. Iron law."

"I'm not interested in suicide."

Blackbeard had managed it, sure. But Darren wasn't betting his life on a maybe.

Especially not over this.

Momonga froze. Right. He had forgotten.

Still, he shook his head.

"Then you should give it to someone better suited."

His voice grew quieter.

"I don't think I'm worthy."

Devil Fruits had limits—determined by the wielder. Give a god-tier Fruit to a weakling, and you'd get mediocre results.

Darren's brows furrowed, both amused and annoyed.

"Didn't think I'd live to see someone refuse a gift like this..."

He stared directly at him.

"Don't underestimate yourself, Momonga." novelbuddy.cσ๓

"In my eyes—you're the best candidate."

Momonga hesitated, lips pressed tight.

"No. It's too valuable—"

Darren exhaled another breath of smoke. Then, without warning, he spoke.

"Sea Circle Calendar, Year 1487. I was fourteen. Just joined the 321st Branch as a Seaman Recruit."

"My body was pathetic. Even the basic physical drills nearly killed me. And by recruit tradition, I had toilet duty on top of training."

"One day I collapsed. Brush still in hand. Slumped beside the latrine."

"You found me. Carried me to the infirmary."

"When I woke up, the toilets were spotless. And I didn't get court-martialed."

Momonga looked like he wanted to wave it off—but Darren wasn't finished.

"Sea Circle 1488. My first combat mission. Target: the Blood Scythe Pirates. I was so scared I couldn't hold my sword."

"A pirate nearly cleaved me in half."

"You yanked me back. Took a bullet in my place."

Momonga opened his mouth—but Darren pressed on.

"Sea Circle 1489. We were both Lieutenants. Took a twenty-man squad to clear out a mafia base."

"Ambush. Everyone but us died. I took two bullets, three stab wounds, passed out."

"When I came to—I was in the hospital."

"The guy on the next bed was you."

"You looked worse."

"Doctor said you carried me out. Alone. Through gunfire. Five bullets. Six cuts."

He glanced down at Momonga's leg.

"You still have a fragment in your left knee. Haven't been able to put full weight on it since."

Darren drew from his cigar. His smile was light.

But behind his eyes, something heavy lingered.

"You want me to keep going?"

"No one else remembers. Not even the official record. But I do."

"Five years. From the latrines to now."

"Thirteen times."

"You saved me thirteen times."

He met Momonga's gaze.

"Now tell me. If I were to die today—me, the 'King of the North Blue,' the Marine prodigy, the man who killed Byrnndi World, crushed the Beasts Pirates—what would that life be worth?"

Momonga was silent.

"Can't measure it," he said finally.

"Exactly."

Darren grinned.

"And yet—you saved it. Over and over."

Momonga muttered, "You've saved me more times..."

Darren rolled his eyes.

"Now's not the time to count favors."

"I'm saying—we've bled together for years."

"We're not just comrades. We're brothers."

"I don't trust people easily."

"But you? You're different."

Momonga looked torn.

"But—"

"I swear to—"

Darren snapped.

Before Momonga could blink, his metal bracers detached, split apart, and snapped shut around his arms and legs—clamping him to the ground.

"Darren, wait—!"

Too late.

Darren shoved the Rumble-Rumble Fruit into his mouth.

Juice exploded.

Momonga froze. Eyes wide. Time stopped.

Then—

"You bastard!!"

His face twisted, red with rage and nausea.

"This tastes like shit!!"

---

To be continued...