CHAPTER 394: CHAPTER 37: BE MY SON, KATAKURI

Darren’s words struck like a lightning bolt in the middle of a drought, slicing straight through Katakuri’s chest and lodging deep in his heart.

It wasn’t the first wound.

Darren’s earlier taunts had already chipped away at his pride, clawed at the foundation of his self-worth.

Charlotte Linlin—Big Mom—had never been the kind of mother her children needed. Her obsession with strength, her twisted worldview, had left a gaping hole in the family she created. She gave them life, but not guidance. Power, but not protection.

And into that void stepped Katakuri.

From a young age, he had shouldered the weight of being the eldest. The protector. The example. He carved out the image of the "perfect brother" with blood and resolve—an unshakable figure who never showed weakness, never fell on his back.

The Charlotte Family’s greatest masterpiece.

But he wasn’t just a brother.

In many ways, he became the father his siblings never had.

That burden—the quiet contradiction of being both son and surrogate parent—twisted inside him every day. A heart torn between revering his mother and resenting the weight she’d left him to carry.

And now—now she was obsessed with Darren. Obsessed enough to offer her own sons as pawns. Obsessed enough to join hands with monsters like Kaido and Golden Lion to get him.

To Katakuri, it was betrayal.

And worse—fear.

Because what if Big Mom succeeded?

What if she did bear a child with Darren?

A child born of two monsters—what kind of terrifying talent would that child possess?

That child would eclipse him.

Would take everything he’d built.

Big Mom’s attention. His siblings’ admiration. The identity he had crafted with pain and pride—

All of it.

Stolen.

By a child who had done nothing to earn it.

A child who might one day be hailed as the true masterpiece.

As that thought took hold, Katakuri’s breath faltered. His chest tightened. His hands trembled.

Fear twisted into hatred.

And then—

Darren delivered the final blow.

His voice, mocking. His smile, venomous.

"And if I’m not mistaken... she probably makes you call me ’Father,’ doesn’t she?"

"Shut up!!"

Katakuri’s roar ripped the sky.

"You’ll never be my father!! Never—never!!"

Blood sprayed from between his clenched teeth. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and feral, his entire body trembling as if possessed.

The moment his scream shattered the air, his Haki exploded.

A savage, hurricane-force aura burst from him, laced with lightning-like arcs of raw energy. It howled across the battlefield, tearing into the earth.

Darren flinched, stunned.

What the hell...?

His Conqueror’s Haki—it’s growing?!

He had sensed Katakuri’s Haki earlier—around 30 points, maybe. But this... this felt like it had climbed well past 40.

Don’t tell me... he’s the protagonist too?!

Or maybe Darren’s villainous trash talk was just that effective.

Huh. I might really have a talent for this "sensei" gig.

Being a villain is kinda exhilarating.

As absurd as the idea was, it didn’t matter—because Darren’s fighting spirit surged, roaring like a wildfire.

He knew the truth: the stronger Katakuri became, the harder he pushed back, the more Darren would grow.

This was no longer just a battle—it was evolution by fire.

With laughter echoing from his throat, Darren charged.

Their fists collided—titan against titan.

BOOM!

A shockwave of cataclysmic force tore through the earth. Boulders and debris rocketed skyward. Whole buildings vaporized midair. Violet and crimson lightning crackled in jagged arcs across the sky, the aftermath of two wills clashing with unrelenting fury.

And Darren felt it—felt his strength surging.

Even with his Observation Haki plateauing, his Armament Haki, his physical might, his instinct—everything else was accelerating again.

He grinned.

"Hahaha! Now it’s getting fun, Katakuri!"

"So this is what you’re afraid of, huh?!"

He laughed louder, more vicious.

"Don’t want to call me Father, is that it?"

Another punch.

A mochi fist shattered, exploding into splattered chunks under the weight of Darren’s strike.

As Darren skidded back, boots grinding through cracked stone, he raised his gaze.

Katakuri stood panting, eyes wild.

And Darren—

Darren smiled.

A wide, self-satisfied, utterly infuriating smile.

He lifted his right hand.

Palm extended.

Not in mockery. Not in threat.

But in invitation.

The kind of gesture only one man had ever made famous.

A smile that carried kindness, pride, and absolute dominance.

Whitebeard’s smile.

And then he said it.

"Become my son, Katakuri."

Katakuri froze.

It was as if time stopped.

His face drained of color. Veins bulged. Blood vessels burst in his eyes.

"You’re asking for death!!!"

BOOM!!

A new wave of Conqueror’s Haki exploded from him, darker and more violent than before. It twisted the air, creating a storm that tore across the battlefield.

Darren: ...

Wait... again?

He felt the shift.

Katakuri’s Haki was rising again.

40... 42... 44...

Finally, it settled.

45.

Katakuri looked unhinged—blood dripping from his eyes and nose, his muscles twitching, veins crawling across his forehead like living worms.

If this were a game, Darren could almost hear the system announcement:

"You have inflicted massive true damage!"

"Super Effective!"

"Critical Hit!"

Is he seriously about to pop a blood vessel?!

Whitebeard really wasn’t kidding—this line hits harder than a punch.

Darren was still processing the absurdity when—

Katakuri roared.

A beast’s roar. No composure. No precision.

Just pure, desperate rage.

He launched forward, abandoning all form, all strategy.

What remained—

Was a cornered monster.

To be continued...