After finishing the 200 laps, Loya felt nothing more than a slight soreness in his calves, which vanished after a quick shake-out.
As a Dragon Slayer, his physiology was no longer strictly human. His strength and endurance far exceeded that of any ordinary person. He paced slowly, shaking out his limbs to cool down.
On the second floor nearby, Zephyr watched the scene through the glass, his furrowed brow relaxing slightly. Though Momonga had knocked him out with a single punch—indicating his defensive durability wasn't extraordinary—this level of stamina was comndable.
Perhaps I should assign him more physical training; at this current intensity, he won't be pushed to his limit, Zephyr thought. He turned his head to look at Aokiji, who had just arrived. "Are you so idle lately that you're wandering around the Recruit Camp?"
"Ara ara, don't be like that, Zephyr-sensei." Kuzan maintained his bored expression, leaning against the wall, his gaze fixed on Loya. "Fleet Admiral Sengoku asked to find ti to guide the kid on developing his fruit ability. It's a mission, after all."
"Hmph! Relying solely on a Devil Fruit won't make one a powerhouse!" Zephyr snorted, turning his head away.
Kizaru relies on his fruit, doesn't he? Kuzan thought but didn't dare say it out loud. He had a good relationship with Zephyr, his forr teacher. Being lazy was one thing, but pushing Zephyr's buttons on this particular subject was a step too far.
"Speaking of which, according to Momonga, his ice ability focuses more on temperature than range. I'm not sure how much I can teach him. After all, it's not a Logia fruit."
"That's for you to figure out. Mythical Zoans are incredibly rare, even more so when it's a legendary creature like a Dragon. While I don't approve of him spending all his energy on fruit developnt, it would be a cri to waste such a talented seed."
"Yes, yes. I know..."
Dragon-Dragon Fruit, Model: Ice Dragon.
This was the cover story Loya had fabricated. Before reaching Marineford, Momonga had prodded him repeatedly about his background and powers. While this world lacked the rigorous census-taking and identity cards of his past life, being constantly interrogated was a nuisance.
So, he wove a tragic tale: an orphan who grew up as a deckhand on a rchant vessel, only for it to be raided by pirates and sink in a storm. He had drifted to a desolate island, where he found the fruit.
The seas were vast; the Marines would never be able to verify where a naless rchant ship—or a pirate crew flying a blue-raccoon-on-white-background flag—had co from. It was a flawless story, filled with enough unknown factors to be unassailable.
Training finished, and after the lunch break was announced, the recruits scrambled to get up.
"Lunch hour! One hour! Dismissed!"
"Food!" Loya's eyes lit up, his mouth watering.
With his transition to Tier 2, his caloric needs were higher than ever. The morning's stead buns had been digested long ago, and his stomach was already drumming. Even though his stomach was growling, his magic and stamina remained full, which left him feeling bizarrely energetic—a sharp, uncomfortable contrast.
Excited, he jumped into the air, locked onto the direction of the ss hall, and propelled himself forward by manifesting ice blocks under his feet.
Watching his performance, the veteran soldiers—who had been planning to invite him to lunch—froze in shock.
"Loya is a Devil Fruit user, too!"
The news spread through the camp like wildfire. While Devil Fruits were scattered across the sea, they were still rare enough to turn heads. To the recruits, the appearance of a powered user in their ranks was a massive spectacle.
Watching Loya's departing figure, Zephyr asked, "Kuzan, can you move like that?"
In Loya, Zephyr saw the potential to master air superiority. The flight capabilities of the likes of Shiki (the Golden Lion) and now Marco the Phoenix had caused the Marines endless headaches. He was desperate for a solution. Kuzan's answer, however, disappointed him.
"Short distances, sure. But long distances? It's hard, and it's not worth the effort—I'd rather just attack directly."
Kuzan's fruit required his body to be made of ice; he couldn't create it out of thin air. If there were objects in the sky, he could freeze them to create stepping stones, but without them, he was grounded. That was why Marco's flight was considered nearly unbeatable; a speed advantage was aningless if you couldn't reach your target in the first place.
Loya remained oblivious to their conversation. He had one goal: Eat!
He dove toward the ground, rolling to dissipate the impact, and lunged toward the formidable "Ms. S," the head of the ss hall. He scanned the nu and imdiately knew the day's offerings.
"Twenty portions of rice and stew, and throw in a pot of at soup!"
"A... a pot?" Ms. S paused, then slamd her ladle against Loya's forehead. "Kid, can you really eat all that? If you waste food, I won't let you off easy!"
Loya stepped back, licked the at juice off the bottom of the ladle, and laughed. "Don't worry! I never waste food! I'm just worried you won't make enough for !"
"Ha? I've been cooking at Marineford for thirty years, and no one's ever dared to say that to !" Ms. S tossed the ladle aside, grabbed a clean one, and struck a fighting pose. "You must be the kid Momonga warned us about! Fine—let's duel! Let's see if your eating speed can keep up with my cooking!"
Loya's interest peaked, but he sighed and backed down. "Forget it. I have training this afternoon; if I'm late, I'll be punished."
"Oh..." Ms. S's tone softened. She had forgotten that this ss hall served the elite and standard recruit camps; she knew the strictness of their training better than anyone.
"Ms. S, since he has to train, why not have the duel tonight?" a cook nearby suggested. "A lot of recruits go ho for dinner then; it won't be as crowded."
Both of them brightened at the suggestion.
"Then, it's a duel! Tonight it is!"
"Yeah! Sounds great!"
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