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When it came to his own strength, Kyle had no illusions.
His Conqueror's Haki was level 85, nearly maxed out. He could say without any false modesty that it placed him among the strongest alive. Anyone lacking spirit, will, or power couldn't even endure a single burst of it.
At this point, his Haki could even injure physical objects.
Judging purely by that alone, he wasn't any weaker than Shanks, the future Emperor of the Sea.
But his fundamentals… were another story entirely.
"My physical ability is only at a major's level."
"But my combat experience, hand-to-hand skills, and swordsmanship…"
"Truly pathetic."
Kyle shook his head.
For the past few days, he had sparred with Kuzan again and again. The results were ugly.
Without using Conqueror's Haki, he was practically getting pummeled. The gap in experience and sense for battle opportunities was huge.
"Getting stronger isn't something you do overnight. It takes talent, effort, sweat… and blood."
"No rushing it. Steady steps."
He reminded himself quietly.
Thankfully, although his irresponsible teacher Garp was nowhere to be found, every morning he now had a far more professional, far more serious instructor.
Black Arm Zephyr.
"Having talent only puts you ahead at the starting line," Zephyr said, arms crossed, standing in the rising sun like a steel statue. "It's not an excuse to slack off. No one becomes strong without hard work."
"Your physical ability is good, already superhuman. If you train diligently, you'll learn Rokushiki quickly."
"But experience can only be gained through real combat, through life-and-death battles."
Kyle nodded silently.
People said he grew stronger fast, but that strength came from the repeated agony of dying. He earned it.
And no one in their right mind wanted to experience death.
"I'll guide your close-quarters combat more thoroughly," Zephyr continued. "Remember this well: great power exists to realize your justice and your ambitions, not to bully the weak."
A more professional teacher meant faster growth.
With targeted training, things felt much smoother for Kyle.
On the fourth day, he mastered Soru. On the fifth, he grasped the basics of Rankyaku.
Rokushiki was only difficult because of the physical requirements. The techniques themselves weren't complicated. Otherwise, Luffy wouldn't have managed to develop Gear Second and learn high-speed movement mid-fight with CP9.
By the sixth day, Kyle finally got the feel of Shigan, though he still couldn't control it well.
Under Zephyr's instruction, his basic combat skills improved too, and a new line appeared on his panel:
"Basic CQC — LV1."
On the seventh day, during another match with Kuzan, he finally looked like he belonged in the fight. No more one-sided beatdowns.
That alone boosted his confidence.
"If I used Conqueror's Haki…"
"…forget it. That'd be bullying."
Still, the rapid improvement, the sense of growing stronger every single day, was intoxicating.
Especially because all the "other students" around him were monsters.
Zephyr didn't just train them. He gathered the future three Admirals and several other prodigies into the same group.
Kyle fought Kuzan often because they were on good terms. Borsalino wasn't spared either and ended up dragged into their simple practice bouts.
"They're absolute monsters," Kyle muttered internally.
Compared to Kuzan, Borsalino looked harmless on the surface, but because he had enlisted earlier, he was even more absurd.
Kyle now understood clearly:
Among all the trainees, those two were the strongest by far. Their strength, speed, and reflexes were on a completely different level. Everyone else was still… normal.
"If I don't use Conqueror's Haki, I don't stand a chance."
His gaze shifted toward Sakazuki nearby.
That guy finally woke up after three days of unconsciousness, but since then he hadn't picked any fights or caused trouble.
Kyle had been looking forward to scaring him again with a burst of Haki, but to his disappointment, everything stayed quiet.
"A terrifying temperament and monstrous physical ability. As expected of a future monster."
He sighed, with no arrogance in his heart.
On the morning of their tenth day at the G5 Fortress, an urgent assembly alarm blasted across the base. Kyle quickly pulled on his navy uniform and threw his white Justice cloak over his shoulders.
"Hurry, Kyle, emergency assembly!"
"Looks like we're heading out!"
Kuzan jumped down from the top bunk, already fully geared up and unusually energetic.
"Yeah."
Kyle nodded.
Their dorm housed four people, the other two being mid-ranking officers in their thirties.
"Hope we get assigned to the same ship," one of them said with a grin through his beard.
Kuzan waved it off and headed out. Kyle didn't reply.
Because the base had rapidly filled with reinforcements lately, everything felt crowded and temporary. The chances of them ending up on the same ship were slim.
G5 was full of officers right now.
When Kyle reached the plaza, it was already packed shoulder to shoulder with marines, all wearing the same cold expressions, white cloaks fluttering behind them, an atmosphere of heavy dread settling over the grounds.
"We'll probably be assigned under Vice Admiral Garp," Kuzan murmured.
Kyle nodded. He thought so too, though he hadn't seen Garp in ten days.
Assembly was quick. These officers were all elite, forming neat arrays in moments.
"You were summoned from HQ because you are the strongest," Sengoku announced from the platform, voice heavy as iron. "You also know why we are gathered."
"So I won't waste words."
"Now, I will begin assigning missions."
"Your objective is to head to the Atvor Sea, observe and closely monitor the movements of Golden Lion Shiki and the Flying Pirates."
"Remember, avoid combat whenever possible."
Every marine responded loudly and in unison: "Yes, sir!"
Names were called rapidly. Those chosen stepped out, received their ship assignments, and sprinted off.
"Kuzan!"
Sengoku called out.
"Port 6, Battleship B3."
Kuzan answered instantly and left.
Kyle waited calmly until finally—
"You. Port 8, Battleship A5."
"Yes!"
He turned and ran.
The battleships were easy to find; huge numbers painted on their hulls stood out clearly. When he boarded, he found mostly officers of similar rank.
And one exceptionally tall guy with a big, goofy smile.
"Kyle! Didn't expect us on the same ship."
Kyle blinked. "Saul?"
"You actually remember me," Saul rumbled happily.
Kyle smiled faintly. He looked around; he didn't know anyone else. The atmosphere on the ship was heavy and quiet.
Obviously, the mission weighed on everyone. No one felt like chatting.
A moment later, a tall man stepped aboard. He looked exhausted, a sword hanging at his waist.
"Rear Admiral Jerry!"
Everyone saluted at once.
Jerry waved them off and lit a cigar.
"No need for formality."
"Let's head out. Our job is to cover the northwest region of the Atvor Sea and keep watch on the Flying Pirates."
His voice was weak enough that Kyle wondered if the man's kidneys had given up on him.
The guy was pale, thin, and looked like a stiff breeze might take him out. Honestly, he seemed like he didn't have much time left.
"..."
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