The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 256 - 158: Comrades or Enemies

"Be patient, Garp."

Kong let out a sigh as he watched Garp, who, although a bit calmer now, was still anxiously pacing back and forth.

Garp froze mid-step, then asked with burning urgency:

"Old man Kong, do you really think Darren can get there before Sakazuki and Borsalino?"

If... if Sakazuki finds Dragon first, the situation will spiral out of control.

Kong did not seem worried.

A steady and resolute calm emanated from his brow.

He pondered for a moment, then met Garp's expectant gaze, slowly shaking his head. In a low, hoarse voice, he said:

"That boy Darren knows the situation in the North Blue far better than any of us."

"True, Sakazuki and Borsalino both once served in the North Blue, but don't forget—Darren is the true 'King of the North Blue', holding ultimate sway over those seas."

"He won't let you down."

Hearing Kong's confident assessment, Garp finally exhaled a long breath.

"That's good... that's good."

He murmured those words again and again.

When it came to the life of his own son, he no longer looked like the brash, hot-blooded Marine hero of old. Instead, he seemed cautious, uneasy.

"But... are you prepared?"

Kong's sudden question caught Garp off guard.

Garp blinked, uncomprehending, and looked back at Kong, meeting the other man's serious gaze.

"From this day on, your son will become the greatest enemy of the World Government... and of our Marines."

"No... Dragon has a strong sense of justice. He'd never turn against the Marines..."

"That has nothing to do with his personal convictions!"

Kong cut him off coldly:

"From the moment he killed that Celestial Dragon, he was fated to walk a path of no return!"

"He will inevitably stand in opposition to the World Government—and to us."

"Make no mistake—even without his overwhelming strength and talent, Dragon knows too much about the inner workings of the Marines and the Government."

"He's intimately familiar with our personnel, our combat strength, fleet deployments, base layouts, intelligence networks—even the encryption methods of our den den mushi."

"And now, with his 'defection' an inescapable fact, I fear the World Government will place an unprecedented bounty on his head."

"Your son will become the 'most heinous criminal' in this world."

"So, Garp—are you ready to face that?"

Kong's relentless questioning caused Garp's face to pale slightly.

His own son... would become his enemy...?

This thought echoed through Garp's mind like a nightmare.

He stood rooted in place, his expression twisted in an intense struggle. At last, he drew in a deep breath, clenched his fists, and gritted his teeth:

"I... I'm ready, Fleet Admiral."

"Good."

Kong smiled in satisfaction.

He reached out and picked up the military transponder snail before him, dialing a specific signal.

"Puru-puru... puru-puru..."

As the snail began to ring, Kong rose from his seat and walked toward the door.

As he brushed past Garp, he paused for just a moment, lifting a hand to gently pat the other man's shoulder. In a low voice, he said:

"Now, think about the final words you want to say to Dragon. Darren will pass them on for you."

With that, Kong strode out of the office, leaving Garp alone with his final farewell.

"Gacha!"

At that moment, the transponder snail connection was established.

"Fleet Admiral Kong, it's Darren."

A low, steady voice came through, accompanied by the faint, ominous roar of wind.

Garp stared at the snail in a daze, then forced himself to take a step forward.

One step at a time, he approached.

"Darren, it's me."

He rasped.

There was a momentary pause on the other end. One second later, Darren's voice came again—this time, the background wind was gone. All was quiet and solemn:

"Vice Admiral Garp, I'm listening."

Garp's lips trembled, his gaze blank as murky tears spilled from the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly, he bared his teeth in a twisted grin:

"Tell that boy... to stay alive."

———

Dragon's hands were trembling.

Even though half a day had already passed since the incident, those blood-streaked hands... still would not stop shaking.

The once-proud Marine uniform and coat he had worn had long been abandoned. In their place, he now wore a hooded military green cloak, large enough to cover most of his face.

He forced himself to recall the reconnaissance and counter-surveillance skills he had learned at the Marine Academy, doing his best to wipe away any trace of his presence as he quietly slipped aboard an unremarkable merchant ship bound for this island.

Staying in these waters any longer was no longer an option.

With the vast power of the World Government, it was only a matter of time before they found his trail.

As a former core officer of Marine Headquarters, with his unique status and background, Dragon understood all too well the hounds the World Government would send after him.

Those brutal, merciless beasts—their dog noses were far too keen.

He had to find a way to reach the Grand Line—perhaps even the New World!

Only in that boundless, chaotic sea could he snatch a fleeting breath between endless hunts... and perhaps find the faintest glimmer of survival.

His thoughts were in turmoil, a tangled snarl of confusion.

Walking along a bustling commercial street, Dragon felt disoriented and adrift.

The noise, the liveliness, the press of the crowds—it all felt alien to him.

Instinctively, he tightened the coat around him, as if even the pale sunlight overhead was too much to bear.

He still remembered the stench of blood.

The reek of sweat, cheap liquor, and gunpowder, mixed with the cacophony of screams, shattering glass, weeping, and maniacal laughter.

He remembered that moment not long ago—when, in a single instant of searing fury, he had lost all control.

There had been no gap between his decision and his action.

And so the outcome had been set.

That repulsive face had gone from arrogant and domineering to terrified and pleading in a heartbeat—before his head had burst like a watermelon right before Dragon's eyes.

What did that feel like?

Dragon didn't know.

He licked his chapped lips and pulled his hood tighter, then slipped into a small, nondescript tavern by the roadside, lowering his voice to order a bottle of liquor from the barkeep.

He sat down at a table under the shade of a tree.

"Drinking alone?"

The barkeep quickly brought over the bottle with a cheerful smile, not finding it odd that this customer was wearing a hooded coat in the summer heat.

Dragon started to nod—then, for some inexplicable reason, he found himself saying:

"Two cups, please. Thank you."

The barkeep smiled and set down two glasses, then turned away.

Dragon sat there, silently staring at the dark green liquor before him.

He didn't drink.

It was as if he were waiting for something.

For someone.

Perhaps just to say a single word. Perhaps just to say a final goodbye.

It didn't matter who.

He waited patiently.

One minute.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Half an hour...

He sat in the shade, restless and anxious, feeling as if the world had been split by some invisible curtain that shut him off from the people bustling by on the street.

A full hour passed.

At last, a voice suddenly spoke in front of him.

"The strongest drinks are never meant to be drunk alone."

Dragon exhaled slowly, his relief plain.

This hour had felt to him like waiting for fate itself to reveal its answer.

And now... that answer had arrived.

"I didn't expect the first Marine to come looking for me would be you."

He lifted his head and looked at the man across the table, who was casually raising that bottle of sherry. A genuine smile spread across Dragon's face, his eyes shimmering with a faint red glow.

Darren poured the liquor into both glasses, then looked up to meet Dragon's gaze. With a soft smile, he said: freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"The North Blue is my territory, after all."

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To be continued...