As Loya thought about his new power, he closed his eyes and chose to activate the skill.
Hummm!
A soft, buzzing sound filled the room. Magic power began to vibrate, and intricate patterns of light danced across his skin. Fragnts of scale began to materialize—transparent at first, then stained with a pale blue, quickly deepening into a rich, abyssal cobalt.
Whoosh!
A pair of bat-like wings suddenly unfurled in the room, creating a gust of wind that sent furniture toppling. A piercing, frigid wind surged outward, instantly freezing everything in the room. The cold blast blew the window open, instantly crystallizing the moisture blowing in from the sea into a long, icy ribbon.
Loya looked at his hands. His tiled, keratin-like nails had transford into familiar, deadly claws. The white, sharp tips emitted a warm, gem-like luster, yet their razor-sharp curvature was enough to make anyone's hair stand on end.
After sensing the state of his body, Loya nodded in satisfaction.
"As long as I'm not in high-intensity combat, my magic recovery can barely keep up with the consumption. Everything else feels similar to when I use it independently, but my control is much finer—I don't get that chaotic feedback from sloppy inputs. Overall, it's vastly better than just ssing around on my own."
Shikai was originally Loya forcing his body to devour ice-elental magic to "wake up" the Dragon Force, which caused the volatile power to go berserk, thereby disabling his Ice-Make Magic. Now that this form was registered as a system skill, it was much more efficient. By directly catalyzing the Dragon Force to reach an awakened state, the dragon scales erged cleanly. Because of this, his Ice-Make magic was no longer restricted; in fact, the dragon-infused magic made even ordinary ice constructs as tough as those forged by Dragon Slayer techniques.
So now, Loya could face Momonga and say: "Give five minutes, and I'll send you to heaven!"
Just as Loya was basking in the joy of his increased power, a roar echoed throughout the dormitory building:
"LOYA!!! TWICE IN ONE NIGHT! ARE YOU EVER GOING TO LET US SLEEP?!"
Oh, right. This form radiated Dragon Presence.
A few days later, Marineford.
Loya had enjoyed a good, long sleep. The live-fire assessnt was over, and the recruits had been granted a rare one-week vacation. Most of the recruits were exhausted and chose to sleep in.
Loya didn't drag himself out of bed until the sun was high. If he waited another hour... the ss hall would stop serving lunch! For a bottomless pit—uh, connoisseur of food—like Loya, that was a fate worse than death.
"Food, food! Oh yeah!"
After a quick wash, Loya kicked his door open and rushed out.
It's worth noting that the rooms directly above, below, and to the sides of Loya's were currently empty. Living next to a guy who liked to test experintal kill-moves and ability developnts was a test of patience. You never knew when you'd be frozen awake in terror, why the ceiling was leaking again, or why your freshly washed laundry looked like freeze-dried salted fish. Since they couldn't beat him, they had chosen a strategic retreat.
On the way to the canteen, there were very few people. The usual bustling crowd of recruits rushing like caffeinated huskies at alti had vanished. They were replaced by a scattering of zombies—shuffling, yawning, and dragging their feet.
Loya greeted them, arm-in-arm with a few fellow recruits, and made his way to the canteen.
Ms. S was away—she'd left with the supply ship for a vacation in the North Blue. Now, the person in charge of the ladle was the second-in-command, a man who grood himself well but still looked like a bandit.
As soon as he saw Loya walk in with a smile, his expression changed. He dropped his spoon, scrambled into the kitchen, and clack—locked the door from the inside.
The group of recruits stared in shock, their food trays frozen in mid-air.
"What... what's going on?"
"No idea, but he looks terrified?"
Terrified? Loya mused. He leaned over the counter, peering inside. He saw two massive tubs of curry bubbling away, a giant pot of rice at the front... and that was it!
Loya stared in shock, his face reddening with rage: "YOU BASTARD! ARE YOU TRYING TO STARVE TO DEATH?!"
Two tubs of curry and rice were enough to feed a hundred soldiers. Since the recruits were on break and few people were left at the base, it should have been enough. But clearly, that calculation hadn't included Loya's share! With his strength increased, he could eat a hundred-man portion by himself.
If he were a neighborhood bully, he could have just snatched it, fed himself, and let the others starve. But unfortunately, he wasn't. Loya was quite popular in the recruit camp; he couldn't bring himself to act like a tyrant.
Sensing the cold air radiating from Loya, his comrades wisely chose to flee, taking the pots of rice and curry with them before Loya could freeze the supply solid.
"CO OUT! I PROMISE I WON'T KILL YOU!"
Loya was spitting ice crystals, blue energy flickering on his hands. The onlookers shook their heads: "You won't kill him? Who believes that? You'll turn him into a popsicle with one punch and be signing his death certificate before he hits the floor."
Just then, a deep voice resonated:
"Nah, it's alright, Loya. Uncle Atte didn't do it on purpose... Speaking of which, it's kind of your fault. You were ssing with that move again last night, right? Uncle Atte was prepping the ingredients for today when your aura flared out. He got so scared he fumbled the pot, started a fire, and burned through the entire inventory. He's going to be punished this afternoon."
The voice was familiar. Loya turned back, shrugging helplessly: "Even so, we still have to figure out what to eat today! Don't tell you're already full, Aldo."
The man standing there was Aldo, a mber of the Elite Camp. He wore a casual shirt, flower-print shorts, and wooden sandals, looking incredibly relaxed. He held a tray in his left hand—it was barely larger than his palm—and there wasn't a single grain of rice left, only a sar of curry sauce on the edge.
Aldo sighed as he put his tray away: "How could I be full? Our canteen chef in the Elite Camp is sick, so I had to co out looking for food. Even though I don't eat as much as you, I still eat more than the average person. I was hoping to rest, but then I ran into this... what a day."
Standing four ters tall like a brown bear, Aldo had a legendary appetite. Before Loya joined the Navy, he had held the title of "Big Eater" for a long ti. But compared to Loya, Aldo felt a sense of inadequacy and had surrendered the title.
Loya just wasn't happy about that.
The two of them stood face-to-face, sighing in unison, heads hanging low.
A recruit sharing a bowl of curry nearby suggested: "Did you guys forget? Elite Camp mbers are allowed to eat at the main Garrison Canteen. You should try there; you might make it before they close."
Loya looked up in shock: "There's such a... no, wait, there's such a thing?"
Aldo looked up in equal shock: "I had no idea!"
The recruit's mouth twitched. Great. The elite mbers don't even know their own privileges, but I, a background extra, know it perfectly. You guys are really depressing.
He didn't want to talk anymore; he just wanted so peace and quiet. However, under the threatening gaze of two notorious "violence-enthusiasts," he compromised—it wasn't worth taking a beating over a al. Everyone knew how terrifying a starving Loya was; the rations he'd snatched during the assessnt were proof enough.
"Yeah, it's a policy from two years ago. The Recruit Canteen was overloaded, so they approved it. It's also to help the new recruits mix with the veterans and boost cohesion. That's all I know..."
Loya let go of the recruit's collar and looked at Aldo: "Lunch?"
"Let's go."
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