"And that concludes the results for all participants in this assessnt!"
The Major instructor's voice echoed along the coast. "Now, I will announce the candidates who have passed the Elite Camp assessnt."
The recruits braced themselves, holding their breath in anticipation. Even if they had no chance of being chosen, everyone loved a bit of gossip; the entire camp was curious about how many would make the cut. Rumor had it that so of the bolder recruits had even set up an underground betting pool in the latrines, where anyone caught being "ignorant" was promptly hooded and knocked out.
Loya noted that he definitely wasn't the one running that scam, though nobody believed him.
"First place, Tony Miller. Step forward!"
"Yes, sir!"
After a brief clamor, the crowd fell silent. As the top perforr with a score of 1795, it would have been a miracle if Tony didn't get in.
Tony was a grim-looking young man who looked much older than his years. Perhaps because of the tragedy of losing his family, his eyes always carried an unshakable lancholy. A jagged scar ran from his forehead down to his left cheek—a souvenir from the pirates who had destroyed his town while he tried to protect it.
Stepping out of the line, Tony stared fixedly at Loya, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.
First place, huh? Only because that monster didn't participate, Tony thought.
Loya felt his gaze, turned back with a look of surprise, and then offered a sunny, bright smile. Only when Tony flinched and awkwardly looked away did Loya breathe a sigh of relief. If Tony made it into the Elite Camp, he'd be free from the recruit camp's strict rules and could challenge Loya anyti. Loya was a strong-willed kid who loved a fight, and he was the type who would harass people until they agreed to duel. The worst part was that even if Loya won, he wouldn't gain a single point of energy—it was a total waste of ti!
The Major instructor ignored their interaction and continued reading.
"Second place, Laurent Minnie. Step forward!"
The crowd erupted.
"Minnie? She only had 800-sothing points!"
"Yeah! Why is the bar so low?!"
"Are you kidding ? This is rigged!"
The recruits whispered and cast skeptical looks at Laurent Minnie. Tony's entry was expected, but Minnie? The point gap was nearly double.
A blonde, tall woman from Loya's Seventh Squad stepped out. Loya was surprised. Laurent Minnie hailed from the North Blue and specialized in kicking techniques, but she wasn't particularly known for high-volu hunting.
Loya looked down at her shoes, and the reason beca clear. Her sturdy sea-beast leather boots—specially designed for kick-fighters—were shredded, stained with blood, and falling apart at the seams, with her toes literally peeking through the holes.
A genius of pure effort, Loya thought.
The instructor ignored the murmurs. These slots were determined by Zephyr's proposal and a vote by all the instructors; there was no bias here. Gaining the approval of over half the instructors was proof enough of her strength.
The instructor didn't stop there. Amidst the confused crowd, he continued:
"Third place, Simon Dennis Westin. Step forward!"
Simon was the camp's famous "Military Scion." His family had served in the Navy for generations. He was desperate to be the family pride, but despite training hard in swordsmanship and physical combat, he was cursed with a frail constitution—not that it mattered. The only thing worth noting was that he was a Devil Fruit user.
When his na was called, the murmurs stopped. Not out of respect for his family's prestige, but because he was a Devil Fruit user. In any given batch, as long as a fruit user perford reasonably well, they were almost guaranteed a spot in the Elite Camp. After all, nobody could predict the upper limits of a fruit power. Plus, Simon was one of the best snipers in the camp; he was strong even without his powers.
After the dismissal, the recruits boarded the ships to return to the Headquarters. As Momonga was supervising the loading of the wounded, he noticed soone still lingering on the shore. He grinned.
"Yo! Loya, why aren't you getting on the ship? If you wait any longer, we'll set sail. What, you want to swim back?"
Since Loya was a Devil Fruit user who would be paralyzed by seawater, Momonga's malice was plain. Loya responded with a quick Ice Spear barrage. He grumbled to himself while gnawing on a nearly burnt pork chop: Sigh! Miscalculation... I knew Simon had an 80% chance of getting in; I shouldn't have set the betting odds so high. My Berries...
Wait, was it strange for soone in construction marketing to know how to run a gambling pool? Probably not.
He did want to swim back, but he wouldn't—and not just because of the fruit weakness. The real reason was that this was the Calm Belt! The nest of all kinds of Sea Kings! One could jump out at any mont, and if he got swallowed, that would be the end of it. He'd already tested it: he got motion-sickness just from being carried by soone else, and he only felt fine when he was on sothing created by his own Ice-Make magic. Even then, he wasn't Kuzan—he couldn't just ride a bicycle across the ocean.
Momonga dodged the ice attack easily, used Soru to close the distance, and hooked his arm around Loya's neck. "Well, well. I'll just knock you out once we're on board. The ship is fast; we'll be at Marineford by tonight."
"Heh!" Loya looked at him with disdain. "Are you sure you can still knock out with one punch?"
Even without manifesting dragon scales, just activating his blue magic patterns gave Loya terrifying defense and shock absorption. Aldo had once comnted that, in this state, Loya's body was tougher than almost any other mber of the Elite Camp.
Seeing Loya's unconcealed contempt, Momonga's forehead pulsed with a vein. Suddenly, a figure appeared behind them, thumping them both on the head.
They jumped apart, instinctively striking a defensive pose. But seeing the flash of purple, they imdiately stood straight and saluted.
"Zephyr-sensei!"
It was indeed Zephyr. At this point in his life, he was far from the 75-year-old man who needed pills to fight; he was at his peak. Disciplining these two was child's play.
"What do you think you're doing?! Do you realize we're about to sail? Get on the ship, now!"
Zephyr radiated an ominous aura. Not wanting to test his temper, the two scrambled onto the ship.
Thump!
As soon as his foot hit the deck, Loya collapsed, face-planting into the wood as his stomach churned violently.
Zephyr ignored him. "Set sail!"
Wooooo!
The lead warship sounded its alarm, slowly pulling away from the coast, followed by the rest of the fleet.
A recruit from another squad poked Loya's motionless body. "Hey! It's true. Loya really is seasick!"
The other recruits brightened. "Zephyr-sensei! Can we have the next assessnt on the ship?"
Loya (faintly): "...You guys are dead."
Zephyr: "...Get out of my sight!"
With that, Zephyr lifted Loya by the collar and hurled him into the cabin. Loya hit the iron bulkhead with a clang, leaving a dent, and fell into a deep, satisfied faint.
The surrounding recruits shivered: "...Did Loya just awaken so kind of weird fetish?"
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