The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 64: My Child, Forgive Me

Crackling flames roared.

From afar, Darren's upper body looked like a ball of fire, engulfed in swirling, scorching flames that distorted the very air around him. The sight made Gion and the others flinch involuntarily.

Only after a full minute did Vinsmoke Judge slowly lower the flamethrower. Unbeknownst to him, a thin sheen of cold sweat had already formed across his forehead.

Smoke rolled across the training field.

Gulp.

Tokikake swallowed nervously, lowering his voice toward Momonga. "Hey... you don't think that guy actually burned to death, do you?"

Momonga rolled his eyes with a sigh.

Just then, a calm voice echoed from the smoke:

"Hmm. The output's decent."

A gust of wind swept the smoke away, revealing Darren standing tall amidst scorched earth, inspecting the ash-blackened skin on his torso.

Though his upper body bore visible burn marks, his expression remained unfazed.

At least, for him, it was nothing.

"The flamethrower passes."

Darren dusted off some ash, grinning toward Judge. "Next."

His gaze shifted toward Tokikake and the others.

"Don't just stand there. You're here to work, too. No time to waste."

---

Thus began one of the most horrifying field tests in the history of weapons development.

Flamethrowers.

High-voltage electroguns.

Portable rocket launchers.

Rotating sawblades.

Multi-barrel machine guns...

Every kind of cutting-edge Jerma 66 tech unleashed its destructive power on one man—Marine Captain Darren.

The training ground echoed with one boom after another, shrill shears of spinning metal, and intermittent explosions. Occasionally, Tokikake's smug laughter floated through the chaos.

From Vinsmoke Judge to the lowest foot soldier, the gathered Jerma staff went from stunned disbelief to numb resignation.

Half an hour later, Tokikake and the others dropped their weapons, exhausted, collapsing on the ground with heaving breaths.

They stared at Darren as if he were some demonic beast.

"...Monster," Judge muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

Darren sat atop a weapons crate, calmly puffing on a cigar while a Marine medic cleaned and bandaged the burns on his body.

"Not bad. We'll go with the weapons we tested just now. Fifty percent down payment; remaining half upon delivery."

"Understood," Judge said hoarsely, fully aware now of the terrifying creature before him.

Once treated, Darren rose, slipping back into his uniform with Momonga's help and donning his pristine white coat of justice. He approached Judge and lowered his voice:

"As for the warship modifications..."

Judge frowned.

"Your specs are extreme. Replacing the keel with metal will at least double the ship's weight. That kind of load... the draft would be a serious issue."

Darren waved him off. "Forget the draft. That's not your concern."

His eyes shimmered with a dangerous, almost maniacal glint.

"I need the ship's core structure built from lightweight alloys."

Judge mulled over it. "If it's like that, we can mix in some of the alloys we use for combat suits. It won't affect too much. But the cost—"

He glanced at Darren. "It'll be astronomical."

"That's what I wanted to hear."

Darren grinned.

Money sitting in a vault was worthless. Spent properly, it became power.

---

Their warship departed from Jerma Kingdom's port.

Onshore, Judge waved them off with a wide smile. But the moment the vessel vanished beyond the horizon, that smile twisted into something darker.

"Sire, the down payment from the North Blue Marines has been secured in the treasury," a middle-aged steward reported respectfully.

Judge nodded, his face grim.

Without a word, he made his way toward Jerma Kingdom's heavily guarded inner citadel.

Past layers of soldiers, he reached a steel-reinforced vault. Pressing his hand against the panel and staring into a retinal scanner, a synthetic voice responded:

"Iris and bloodline verification complete. Welcome back, Your Majesty."

The door creaked open.

Inside lay a vast laboratory, dozens of incubation tanks lining the walls, each three meters tall and filled with a glowing green liquid.

Inside each tank floated a developing clone soldier.

Judge stood silently before the whirring machines.

Then, without warning, he smashed his fist onto the control console.

Bang!

"Damn it!!"

Veins bulged across his temple as he bellowed.

"Disgrace! What a disgrace!"

He panted heavily, his bloodshot eyes wild.

Him—Vinsmoke Judge, sovereign of Jerma, supreme commander of the Evil Army—reduced to some back-alley weapons dealer!

That bastard Darren thought Jerma existed to supply him arms?

Even the combat suits were now in his sights!

"Damn you! Damn you!! DAMN YOU!!!"

Judge kept pounding the console until it was covered in fist-sized dents.

His gaze wandered over the cloning tanks.

What could fight a monster like Darren?

He felt a chill in his bones.

Was there truly no way to stop him?

Then, the comms crackled.

"Your Majesty, Lady Sora's water just broke. She's about to deliver. Your presence is requested."

Judge froze.

Sora. His wife. She was giving birth.

His first child was about to be born.

His expression softened for just a fleeting second.

"My bloodline..."

He whispered.

Then he went rigid.

A second later:

"HAHAHAHAHAHA!! So that's it!! I've found the way to fight you, Darren!!"

He burst into manic laughter.

"Lineage factors... genetic modification... I should've realized it sooner!!"

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"Only a monster can defeat another monster!!"

As if possessed, Judge staggered to a nearby cabinet and yanked out a pink vial.

The glowing fluid reflected his deranged face.

"My child... forgive me."

"This is for Jerma's glory."

He rasped.

---

To be continued...