The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 251 - 153: Darren’s Justice

Guidance... for my training?

At Darren's words, Doflamingo's eyes sharpened, an emotion both unfamiliar and stirring rising slowly from within their depths.

Is he serious?

The "monster" of Marine Headquarters—who had eliminated "World Destroyer" Byrnndi World and wiped out the Beasts Pirates' headquarters—was offering to guide his training?

Doflamingo's first instinct was suspicion.

Sure, in name they were godfather and godson. With the North Blue Fleet's support, the Donquixote Family had grown at a shocking pace, expanding faster than even he had imagined.

But Doflamingo knew better than to believe that a cold-blooded man like Darren trusted him.

The day Momonga sealed off all of Rubeck Island with a fleet of warships, he'd seen it clearly enough.

If anything were to happen to Darren in the New World, Momonga would not hesitate to rain down fire and wipe the Donquixote Family from the map—no matter the cost.

Of course, Doflamingo didn't trust Darren, either.

This "harmony" they maintained was just a convenient mask—a polite fiction in a game of endless maneuvering.

He licked his dry lips, a cold smile twisting at the corner of his mouth.

"Are you sure, my dear Godfather?"

Darren's smile deepened.

"Of course. What could be more gratifying for a father than watching his son grow ever stronger?"

Doflamingo inhaled deeply. Veins bulged across the backs of his hands as he tensed in an instant.

A mad grin split his face, the lenses of his sunglasses glowing red with feral light. His fingers curved into claws as he lunged forward!

His manic laughter echoed through the cold, cavernous hall.

"Heh heh heh!! Then don't blame me for being rude, Godfather!!"

Swish!!

In that instant—

It was as though countless invisible blades had ripped through the air, splitting it with a crackling sound.

Without a whisper—

The ceiling, the floor, the very walls of the hall bloomed with fine, clean cuts, as if a thousand razors had swept across them in perfect silence.

The tea table between them burst apart, each piece sheared smooth as glass.

Doflamingo had launched a storm of attacks at the Marine Commodore!

---

Ten minutes later.

The entire hall lay in ruin.

The walls and floor were scarred by countless slashes, like claw marks left by some giant beast. The wine cabinet, the glassware, the bookshelves—nothing remained intact.

Trebol and the other officers stared in mute, disbelieving awe at the man standing calmly in the wreckage, lighting a fresh cigar.

Smoke curled from Darren's lips as he exhaled, his eyes warm with an almost paternal pride.

"Now do you understand?"

"Your Devil Fruit mastery is impressive, but your timing—your ruthlessness—still needs work."

"And your physical abilities—strength, speed—they need further honing."

"That's the foundation of everything."

"And about the close-quarters combat I just showed you... spend more time on it. Learn it well."

"With your current power, you might be untouchable here in the North Blue. But in the Grand Line, in the New World... you'll face despair you can't even imagine."

Doflamingo knelt, pale-faced, chest heaving. Sweat beaded on his brow, his lips cracked and dry, his eyes dazed and shaken.

So strong...

No matter what he did, he hadn't been able to land a single blow on Darren.

He'd thought his training these past months would let him narrow the gap between them.

But it hadn't.

The man before him seemed impossibly vast, impossibly distant—his towering shadow pressing down like a storm cloud, leaving Doflamingo gasping for breath.

And what shook him most—

Darren had really been guiding him.

Every motion, every counter, every subtle lesson in the use of the String-String Fruit... each dissected with the precision of a scalpel. Darren's insight cut through Doflamingo's confusion like a blade, leaving him with a shocking clarity.

Swallowing, he finally forced out a hoarse whisper:

"Thank you... for your guidance, Godfather."

Darren smiled softly.

Doflamingo's past training had been clumsy—feeling his way in the dark without any real method.

His lieutenants—Trebol and the rest—were loyal, but they couldn't truly help him grow.

For someone like Darren, with his depth of knowledge and battlefield experience, guiding Doflamingo was almost too easy.

In the original history, Doflamingo's strength never surpassed that of a Yonko's commander. He'd lost to Luffy in the end, partly because he never had a true mentor.

Kaido might have filled that role, but Doflamingo had chosen cooperation over rivalry—so he'd remained stuck at that level.

But now... things were different.

Under Darren's watchful eye and relentless trials, this young, defiant flamingo might truly take flight—unfurling wings so brilliant the entire world would tremble.

"This is what a Godfather should do," Darren said, his voice quiet but certain.

"Grow quickly, Doffy..."

He turned his gaze toward the distant horizon beyond the glass window—where the endless ocean stretched away.

The drifting cigar smoke blurred the hard, chiseled lines of his face.

"Compared to the splendor of the Grand Line, this tiny North Blue is nothing."

"I look forward to the day you set sail for that ocean."

"And when you do... nothing in this world will be able to stand in our way."

Hearing those words, Doflamingo felt a fire roar to life inside him. The hunger. The ambition. The promise.

He stared at the side of Darren's face, lips pressed tight, fists clenched at his sides, silent.

Darren turned back and clapped him lightly on the shoulder, smiling.

"Go. They're waiting for you at the party."

Doflamingo rose slowly.

He watched as Darren turned away, ready to leave—then, driven by some fierce, reckless urge, he bit out:

"Darren! Why are you helping me?"

"Don't underestimate me—I see the killing intent in your eyes!"

"And you must know... if I ever get the chance to kill you, I won't hesitate!"

The words hung in the air. Trebol and the others froze, faces going pale, a collective gasp of horror.

Darren paused.

He looked back, and his grin was as bright as the sun.

"Good. Keep that desire to kill me alive."

"Hatred is the best fuel for power—whether that hate is aimed at me, the World Government, or even the Celestial Dragons and the Gorosei... it doesn't matter."

"As for why I'm helping you..."

Darren's eyes glinted mischievously.

"Do you know what my brand of justice is?"

Doflamingo blinked.

"...What is it?"

Darren's mouth curved up in a wicked, fearless smile.

"Because I think it's going to be fun."

"A fallen prince, cast out by his own bloodline, rising to tear them all apart... isn't that a story worth watching?"

"And finally... happy birthday, Doffy—my dear godson."

With that last, soft laugh, Darren's figure vanished.

Leaving Doflamingo standing frozen in the ruins, unmoving.

A long, long moment passed.

At last, under the wary, worried eyes of Trebol and the others—

The cold gleam returned to Doflamingo's eyes.

"Hehhehheh..."

He started to laugh.

A wild, shaking laugh that left his whole body trembling, tears welling at the corners of his eyes.

"So... amusing... so very amusing..."

"My dear Godfather... your justice..."

"Hehhahahha..."

He threw his head back, his pink-feathered coat swirling around him.

"—'Desire-Driven Justice'!!!"

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To be continued...