CHAPTER 390: CHAPTER 33: IN THE MIDST OF CULTIVATION

A glint of unrestrained delight flashed in Darren’s eyes before he threw his head back in manic laughter, the sound sharp and wild, reverberating with exhilaration.

"You’ve actually mastered Observation Haki to the level of foresight! Hahaha! At your age? You really are the Charlotte Family’s greatest masterpiece!"

Katakuri’s body went still. His pupils narrowed, a flicker of unease coiling in his chest.

This madman...

He’d just revealed a high-level ability that most could only dream of attaining—and this man wasn’t alarmed or defensive. No, Darren looked thrilled. Elated.

It chilled him.

"In that case," Darren growled, stepping forward with a feral grin splitting his face, "I won’t hold back!"

A violent surge of power burst from his legs, snapping up his spine like a whip. His muscles coiled, precise and lethal, as he launched a punch that cracked the very air.

His spirit, body, and technique had merged into one seamless force.

Serious Punch!

A thunderclap of motion—his jet-black fist rocketed forward, expanding in Katakuri’s vision like the descent of a meteor.

Something’s wrong!

The moment the blow approached, the world around Katakuri seemed to drain away—sights, sounds, sensation all evaporating, as though he’d plunged into a void.

Every pore on his body screamed in alarm.

The aura behind Darren’s punch was... wrong. Not just overwhelming—it was uncanny. Primeval. A power that could reduce mountains to dust.

His Observation Haki surged to life. Crimson mist swirled in his pupils as he peered into the web of fate.

But no matter how many threads he grasped, how many futures he glimpsed—

Not one showed him dodging the blow.

Impossible...!

He’s locked onto my aura—my very presence—with Haki and spirit alike! What kind of technique is this?!

A roar of defiance echoed in Katakuri’s mind.

In a heartbeat, he chose.

His arm swelled into a bulging sphere of mochi, condensing into a thick, bludgeoning mass. He threw it forward like a battering ram, straight into Darren’s strike.

"Horned Mochi!"

Black-and-red Armament Haki crackled to life, dancing like lightning over his mochi fist.

And then—

BOOM!!

Their clash detonated with bone-rattling force. The ground buckled, debris ripped into the air like shrapnel.

Katakuri grunted, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he was hurled backward, skidding dozens of meters.

But even in midair, he moved.

His form blurred, his melted face reforming, his right arm shifting again—this time into a multi-barreled Gatling gun formed of hardened mochi.

Haki laced the weapon as it spun wildly, spewing a storm of compressed mochi bullets like a rain of meteors.

"Peerless Mochi Blade Bullets!"

Darren’s brow furrowed.

So he’s shifting to ranged combat now...

In an instant, he grasped the logic—Katakuri had recognized the danger of close-quarters and adapted.

Darren’s Observation Haki flickered to life. His biomagnetic field expanded outward, picking up everything—sound, heat, kinetic tremors. Deep within his eyes, tiny strands of blue electricity pulsed like veins of living energy.

He vanished.

Or rather, he moved so fast he left behind a string of afterimages.

Bang bang bang bang...

The barrage tore through his echoes, splintering walls, gouging craters into the earth.

Katakuri’s bullets weren’t metallic—Darren couldn’t manipulate them. Each shot was dense mochi, infused with Haki, immune to his magnetic field.

As Katakuri landed, he staggered slightly, then braced. His spiked boots carved twin trenches in the ground as he fought the recoil of his own force.

With a grunt, he slammed his right foot down—boom!—digging a crater deep into the earth to anchor himself.

He inhaled sharply, eyes gleaming crimson. He locked onto Darren’s likely landing point, a product of pure precognition.

Then—he moved.

Just a half-step forward.

His arm transformed once more, a thick mass of compressed mochi, pulsing with heat and Haki.

"Grill!"

FWOOOSH!

Friction ignited the surface—the mochi blazed crimson, flames licking the air as the rocket-propelled fist launched, trailing fire like a comet across the battlefield.

"Grilled Mochi Rocket Launcher!"

And then—an uncanny sight.

Just as the blazing projectile veered off course, about to miss...

Darren appeared right where it was going to hit.

As if fated.

If not for the flicker of surprise on his face, it might have looked planned.

"Foresight...!"

The searing rocket filled his vision. His precognition screamed—but it was too late to act on it.

That was the peril of foresight: knowing what would happen didn’t always mean you could stop it.

But instinct took over where thought failed.

Years of battle reflex surged up as his body moved on its own, muscle memory guiding him into a defensive stance.

Dragon Claw Fist

A razor-edged strike tore through the air, forming white shock ripples as it met the projectile head-on.

BOOM!

The explosion hurled Darren backward. He crashed through two buildings, skidding across the ground—but never fell.

"I told you—that temperature doesn’t work on me!" Darren roared.

He stomped forward, Dragon Claw surging with black Haki. The flaming mochi burst apart, scattering in a rain of charred fragments.

From the smoke, Katakuri emerged once more—expression cold, eyes narrowed, blood seeping from his lip.

His right arm had already reformed.

Both limbs transformed into serpentine coils of mochi, imbued with Haki. They whipped and lashed like a storm of living rope.

"Famous Chestnut Mochi!"

The fists came like a monsoon—relentless, rapid-fire, machine-gun ferocity.

Darren didn’t retreat.

He met every blow head-on.

Fist met fist. Sparks flew. Dull impacts thundered through the air, each clash sending shockwaves rippling across the ruined battlefield.

Katakuri pushed his Observation Haki to its peak, reading Darren’s every twitch and breath, intercepting his reactions before they happened.

And under that pressure—Darren bled.

Just a trickle. A thin line from the corner of his mouth.

But Katakuri saw it. And his eyes gleamed.

It’s working!

Darren’s brute strength was monstrous. In sheer physical might, Katakuri couldn’t compare.

But Haki evened the scales.

He pressed harder, fists blurring.

What he didn’t see—what no one could—was the faint, almost imperceptible curve of Darren’s lips.

A ghost of a smile beneath the hailstorm of fists.

Even as he focused entirely on dodging and defending, a string of messages flickered silently before his eyes:

Observation Haki +0.03

Observation Haki +0.04

Observation Haki +0.03

Observation Haki...

...

...

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To be continued...