Directly in front of the Marineford fortress, at the main harbor.
Seven massive warships were docked in a neat line. This year's new recruit class consisted of seven squads, with each ship assigned to carry one squad, along with their accompanying staff and instructors.
The recruits stood in formation on the decks, enduring the scorching sun. Their uniforms were drenched in sweat, then dried by the sea breeze, leaving behind unsightly white rings of salt.
"Loya is so slow!"
"Yeah, look at the instructor—his face is blacker than charcoal!"
"Shh, keep it down, Admiral Zephyr is watching us over there!"
"Right, right, we need to maintain our image!"
It wasn't just the recruits who were growing impatient; the other naval officers were also annoyed. Loya might have been a prodigy, but making so many people wait was pushing it. Was he trying to earn a lifeti of latrine duty?
On the seventh squad's warship, the Major General instructor approached Zephyr, saluted, and whispered, "Teacher Zephyr, perhaps you should depart with the other ships? We can wait here."
The Marineford recruit assessnt was mandatory for everyone. The Navy wasn't a nursing ho; soldiers who hadn't seen blood wouldn't know how to fight pirates. Therefore, seven ships were deployed, each carrying at least one Rear Admiral and overseen by the forr Admiral Zephyr. And yet, here they were: dozens of high-ranking officers and hundreds of recruits wasting ti waiting for one recruit.
Zephyr, cigar in mouth, frowned in irritation. "Let the other ships depart. It's not a good look for all of us to be sitting here. We leave in ten minutes. If he really doesn't show up, see how I deal with him when he gets back!"
Zephyr sighed internally, cursing himself for not intervening last night. Now he was stuck baking on the deck, and he couldn't even vent his anger properly because he'd watched the whole "frozen statue" incident.
Since the commander had spoken, the instructor followed orders and signaled the other ships. Amidst a cacophony of sirens, he turned to the muttering recruits and roared, "Quiet, you lot! You are Marines! You are soldiers! Discipline! Show you have so spine! Do you understand?!"
If he couldn't get back at Loya, he could certainly take it out on them. The recruits snapped to attention, shouting, "Understood!"
"Did you not eat? Louder!"
"UNDERSTOOD!!!"
Momonga, hand resting on his sword hilt, approached Zephyr. "Teacher Zephyr, what was Loya doing last night? Is he... afraid?"
Momonga's wounds hadn't fully healed, but when Sengoku suggested the mission, he agreed—it was a chance to stretch his muscles and handle so... "unfinished business."
Zephyr sighed, looking at his prized student. "A man who can execute the Scissor Pirates without blinking—do you think he's afraid of a live-combat test?" He rubbed his temples. "Last night, Loya sparred with Kuzan. He got frozen solid by an Ice Age. I thought he'd break out in a while, but he stayed frozen all night... sigh."
"Uh..." Momonga didn't know what to say. Since Zephyr said "I thought," he clearly witnessed the whole thing. So, was this a case of "shooting oneself in the foot"?
Feeling awkward, Momonga pulled a box of cigars from his coat and offered one. "Would you like one, Teacher? I bought them on my last mission—special品 from the City of Gold."
Zephyr: "..."
Just then, a figure drifted down from the sky, landing on the deck with a flamboyant 720-degree spin into a half-kneeling pose. Loya stood up, dusted himself off, and bead, flashing eight pearly white teeth. "Yo! Good morning, everyone! I..."
Before he could finish, Loya collapsed flat on the deck, his face deadpan. He opened his eyes weakly, hand trembling as he reached toward Momonga. "Momonga... sir... please tell ... you brought motion-sickness pills."
"WHY WOULD I CARRY THOSE ON A MISSION?!" Momonga roared, fangs bared.
"I... I'm dying... waaaah!"
"Hey! Don't you dare puke on !"
With everyone present, the instructor gave the order to set sail. The warship surged ahead at full speed, partly to catch up to the fleet, and partly because Loya was projectile vomiting acid over everything. As luck would have it, the ship's surgeons were trauma specialists—they had absolutely no idea how to handle seasickness.
Finally, Zephyr had seen enough. The rising star of the Navy, the boy he'd personally slated for the Elite Camp, was seasick? If Sengoku hadn't warned him, he wouldn't have believed it.
The furious Zephyr shoved the dics aside and delivered a swift, concussive punch to the back of Loya's head.
THWACK.
Silence fell over the deck. The recruits stared in horror at the massive bump on Loya's head and the blissfully peaceful expression on his face. Hey! You've been knocked out, don't look so happy about it!
With Loya tossed back into the cabin, the deck finally grew quiet. The recruits grew restless, checking their weapons, trying to soothe their anxiety. They were, after all, still just recruits. Unlike Loya, who had seen true combat, they were terrified of the "assessnt island." They knew it was filled with beasts rather than pirates, but the fear of the unknown remained.
Zephyr watched them with helplessness. Their predecessors had had much more grit. This class was underwhelming, and the only one with real potential, Loya, was an outsider picked up from a desert island. It was clear the Navy's generational strength gap was growing.
Seeing his teacher's headache, Momonga knew what was wrong. He shuffled over, offering another cigar. "Don't worry, Teacher. Things will work out. Besides, we have Loya, and those in the Elite Camp aren't bad. It's not all hopeless. Here, have a cigar—the highest grade from Sabaody Archipelago."
Zephyr narrowed his eyes. "You... what are you plotting?"
Momonga's behavior was highly suspicious for the notoriously stoic Vice Admiral. After a long silence, he gave in to Zephyr's impatient glare and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "Well... Teacher, it's about Loya. He asked to request that you ask Fleet Admiral Sengoku to assign him to a post at Headquarters later, rather than letting him out to sea."
Momonga waved his hands frantically. "Of course, the decision is yours, Teacher! If it's not possible, forget I said anything, hahaha!"
Zephyr looked at him strangely, confused. Why this kid, of all people?
Momonga felt mortified, his thoughts darkening: You brat! Threatening into doing this? When I get back, you're done for!
Loya had demanded this after hearing Kuzan ntion that, due to this year's lackluster performance, most of the Elite Camp recruits would be sent to the Four Seas for experience.
Headquarters to the Four Seas! That was a ten-day journey even on a high-tech warship! Being trapped on a boat for ten days, followed by constant mariti missions? That was a death sentence for his stomach! Hence, the blackmail. As for why Momonga agreed? Let's just say an injured Vice Admiral sitting in an office all day reading "stimulating magazines" has a lot of downti to worry about his own future... and his pride.
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