"Seal the area."
Sengoku's voice wasn't loud, but the instant it fell, the temperature in the plaza plumted.
The surrounding Marines froze. Garp raised an eyebrow while Tsuru nodded, as if she had anticipated the order from the start.
"Military police," Sengoku continued, his tone turning glacial. "Block every entrance to the lower armory. No one enters without written authorization from Headquarters."
The crowd erupted.
"Fleet Admiral!"
"Please give us a chance!"
"Just once! Even if I collapse, I want to try!"
"I deploy to the New world next month! If I go without Haki, I'll die!"
The desperate pleas rose like a tide, crashing against the command of the Navy's highest authority.
Sengoku's expression didn't waver.
"Silence."
This ti, the roar ca from the Fleet Admiral himself.
It lacked Garp's wildness, carrying a heavy, dignified weight that pressed down on the plaza like an invisible mountain.
The crowd quieted—not because their desire vanished, but because of the sheer authority radiating from the man before them.
Sengoku scanned the soldiers.
Young faces, old faces, scarred faces, and ordinary faces.
So had survived brutal battles; others had only heard stories of the Grand Line and already feared it.
Yet all of them stared back with the exact sa expression: hope.
That was what made this situation so volatile.
If he crushed their hope carelessly, morale would collapse. If he let it spread unchecked, discipline would disintegrate.
Sengoku took a deep breath. "No one is saying you will be denied the chance."
The crowd held its breath as he continued. "But this is not a toy. This is not a carnival, and it is not sothing you rush into just because you heard soone else beca stronger."
His gaze sharpened. "The first trial nearly caused multiple collapses. Even those who produced Haki signs are unstable. Without proper guidance, they will lose that feeling, or cripple themselves trying to chase it."
The restless murmuring faded.
"Therefore, from this mont onward, the training room is classified as a top-secret Marine training asset. Its use will be supervised directly by Headquarters."
The words top-secret Marine training asset sparked through the plaza like a dry brushfire.
Sengoku raised a hand to kill the rising noise.
"Priority will be given to wounded veterans, officers deploying to the Grand Line, elite recruits selected by Zephyr, and soldiers with proven combat rit."
Countless eyes lit up.
Combat rit.
That ant there was still a path. A path earned not by shoving in a plaza or bribing registration officers, but through service, discipline, and battle.
Garp grinned. "Not bad, Sengoku! You actually made it sound official."
Ignoring the old hero, Sengoku delivered the final blow. "Anyone who starts another fight over training slots will be stripped of eligibility for one full year."
The crowd instantly stiffened.
That threat was far more terrifying than confinent.
Even Akainu, watching coldly from the sidelines, gave a faint nod of approval. It was harsh, but effective.
At that mont, a loud yawn echoed from the path leading to the lower armory.
Zaraki strolled out slowly with a towel draped over his neck and a water bottle in hand.
His bandages hung half-loose, his hair was a ss, and his expression carried the profound annoyance of soone whose nap had been ruined before it began.
Behind him trailed Zoro, Sanji, Nami, Carina, Smoker, and Isuka.
Every single one of them looked like they had been dragged backward through hell.
Zoro's steps were heavy, but his eyes burned with fierce intensity.
Sanji's legs trembled, though he tried to mask it with his usual pride.
Nami gripped her staff, her gaze hyper-alert and sensitive, while Carina looked pale, repeatedly clenching and unclenching her right hand as if trying to morize a fleeting sensation.
Smoker looked furious, and Isuka kept her hand locked on her sword hilt; despite her pale face, her aura had subtly shifted.
Sengoku stared at them.
For a long mont, the Fleet Admiral was speechless before his gaze snapped to Zaraki.
"You."
Zaraki stopped and pointed at himself. "?"
"Yes. You." The vein on Sengoku's forehead throbbed. "Do you have any idea what you caused?"
Zaraki swept his gaze over the sea of Marines packing the plaza.
He saw bloodshot eyes, clenched fists, and a hunger for strength so thick he could almost sll it. To him, this wasn't disorder.
It was an appetite.
Weaklings had caught the scent of power and were desperately clawing toward it.
"They look pretty motivated," Zaraki said lazily.
Sengoku's grip on the docunt in his hand tightened until the paper nearly tore.
"Motivated?" he repeated, his voice dropping low enough to make nearby officers straighten their spines.
"They almost turned Marine Headquarters into a riot zone!"
"Then they're very motivated."
Garp barked a laugh.
Several nearby soldiers lowered their heads, shoulders shaking as they fought down their own amusent.
Sengoku inhaled slowly.
Exhaled.
He pointed toward the lower armory. "Explain that thing."
Zaraki scratched his head. "It makes people stronger."
"I can see that."
"It hurts."
"I can see that too."
"It costs money to run."
Sengoku's eyes narrowed dangerously. "How much?"
Zaraki looked away. The plaza went dead silent.
"How much?" Sengoku pressed, his tone turning lethal.
Zaraki coughed lightly. "Enough that I'll need reimbursent."
The air froze.
"YOU BUILT A TRAINING FACILITY INSIDE MARINEFORD AND NOW YOU WANT HEADQUARTERS TO PAY FOR IT?!" Sengoku roared, shaking the entire plaza.
Zaraki picked at his ear. "Technically, I bought it first."
"That is not the point!"
Tsuru stepped forward before the Fleet Admiral completely lost his mind.
"Zaraki," she said, her voice calm but carrying enough weight to command his full attention. "Can this facility kill people?"
"Yes." The imdiate, blunt answer drained the color from the surrounding Marines.
"If they're weak, stupid, or if soone presses the wrong button," Zaraki added lazily.
Sengoku's glare sharpened enough to cut steel.
Zaraki pointed at Bogard. "Relax. I didn't press the wrong button."
Bogard adjusted his sunglasses. "He almost did."
The plaza dropped back into silence.
Sengoku slowly turned his head toward Zaraki, who pointedly looked the other way.
Garp whistled an innocent tune, Tsuru closed her eyes, and Aokiji muttered, "Ah... that explains a lot."
"How scary~ Marineford survived because of one button," Kizaru drawled.
Akainu's face darkened. "This is exactly why such a person cannot be left unsupervised."
For once, no one argued with him.
Sengoku rubbed his temples. "From now on, the gravity training room is under the joint supervision of Tsuru, Zephyr, and Bogard. Zaraki, you are forbidden from adjusting the difficulty without approval."
Zaraki scowled. "That sounds boring."
"That is the point." Sengoku left no room for argunt. "Also, every participant must undergo dical screening before entering. No exceptions."
Nami's hand shot up. "I support this rule."
Sanji raised his hand as well. "For Nami-san's safety, I also support this rule."
Zoro clicked his tongue but didn't object. Smoker snorted, and Isuka nodded in serious agreent.
Zaraki looked at his ragged group, betrayal written clearly across his face. "You people turned into cowards after one round?"
Nami offered a sickly sweet smile. "Say that again and I'll charge you for my dical expenses."
"And emotional damages," Carina added weakly.
Sengoku pointed a rigid finger at Zaraki. "dical ward. Now."
"I'm fine."
"You are bleeding through your bandages."
Zaraki looked down.
Fresh red stains had indeed blossod across the white gauze wrapping his shoulder.
He clicked his tongue. "Annoying."
Garp stepped forward and dropped a massive hand onto Zaraki's head. "Co on, brat. Go get patched up. If you collapse now, I'll laugh at you for ten years."
Zaraki's eyebrow twitched. "Try it and I'll cut your rice crackers in half."
"That would an war," Garp said, dead serious.
The heavy atmosphere finally cracked, and a few Marines in the crowd couldn't help but laugh.
Sengoku watched the exchange and exhaled a long, tired breath.
Troubleso. Too troubleso.
But the kid was undeniably useful. He was a young monster who could fight, possessing a facility that sparked Haki awakenings, surrounded by dangerous talents, and wrapped in New World rumors that would attract every ambitious beast on the sea.
And worst of all—Garp was proud of him.
Sengoku felt his remaining lifespan shortening by the second.
Purupuru. Purupuru.
A Den Den Mushi in a nearby officer's hand began ringing violently. The officer answered, listened for a few seconds, and went deathly pale.
"Fleet Admiral!"
Sengoku's terrible premonition returned. "What now?"
The officer swallowed hard. "An encrypted ssage from the Holy Land. The Five Elders demand a full report on the Golden Lion incident and the rumors regarding Zaraki's ability."
The plaza fell silent again.
Sengoku closed his eyes. Of course they called now.
Zaraki tilted his head. "Can I skip that eting?"
Sengoku opened his eyes, offering a smile that held zero kindness.
"No."
Zaraki's face fell as Garp clapped him on the back with a booming laugh. "Bwahahaha! Brat, welco to the true hell of the Marines."
Zaraki looked at the training room, the ringing Den Den Mushi, and finally at Sengoku.
"Maybe fighting Akainu again would be easier."
Akainu's eyes sharpened as Sengoku imdiately roared, "NO ONE IS FIGHTING ANYONE!"
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