Sengoku looked intently at the fifteen-year-old youth standing before him.
Had Garp told him?
No. While Garp was unreliable and prone to letting things slip, the old geezer knew exactly what could be joked about and what had to remain secret. Sengoku had only replaced the plaque six months ago; there was no way Garp would have mentioned it to Sean.
So, was the youth's perspective on justice merely a coincidence?
Shaking those thoughts from his mind, Sengoku asked, "Right. Since you've spent three years on a deserted island without any formal training, I'll arrange for you to study at the headquarters' Elite Training Camp first. Sound good?"
"Yes, that works! But Fleet Admiral Sengoku, what rank is assigned upon graduating from the recruit camp?"
"That depends on your final evaluation scores. As long as you graduate, the lowest rank you'll receive is a Lieutenant."
"And the highest?"
"The highest? In the history of the Elite Training Camp, the highest rank ever awarded upon graduation was Commander. Of course, very few have ever achieved that."
Sean nodded.
Though it was called a "graduation evaluation," it was effectively a test of a single thing: raw strength. Simply put, your rank depended on where your power level stood by the time you finished.
However, there were limits. The initial appointment was capped at Captain. To ascend to the flag officer ranks, strength alone wasn't enough; one needed corresponding military merits. Unless one was part of the World Great Recruitment, this was an unavoidable rule.
'''
'Pop...'
A bubble, which had been fluctuating in size, suddenly burst.
"Crap, I fell asleep again!"
"Where's Sean?" Garp leaped up from the sofa, looking around before turning to Sengoku.
"I've already had someone take him to report to Zephyr," Sengoku replied.
"Zephyr, huh... the kid's probably gonna to be terrify him."
"Terrify Zephyr? What do you mean?"
"Did I not mention it? That brat Sean already has the strength of a Marine Headquarters Captain. In fact, among all the Captains, he's definitely top-tier!"
"You old bastard! Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"Well, I fell asleep the moment I walked in! Bwahahaha!"
"Someone! Bring Sean back—"
"Calm down, old friend!" Garp interrupted.
Sengoku was momentarily stunned. If Sean already had the strength of a Captain, what was the point of sending him to the Elite Training Camp? That wouldn't be training; it would be bullying children.
He was about to call Sean back when Garp stopped him.
"Sean's strength is impressive, but you know he spent three years alone on a deserted island and has no memories of the time before that. In other words, he's had no systematic training. Bogard and I tested him on the way back, and it's true."
"So, let Zephyr polish the kid a bit!"
Sengoku pondered for a moment and then nodded. "Fine. We'll leave it at that for now."
'''
Elite Training Camp.
Chief Instructor's Office.
Sean had been escorted here and was now standing before Zephyr's desk.
'A great noble of the Zumeida Kingdom?'
Zephyr frowned slightly as he looked at the documents that had arrived with Sean. He had absolutely no fondness for nobles.
"Ain!"
"Yes, Instructor Zephyr!"
"Take him to the training grounds and test his strength," Zephyr commanded. "If he doesn't make the cut, send him straight back to Sengoku!"
"Understood, Instructor Zephyr!"
Since Sengoku had sent the boy, Zephyr couldn't simply refuse him, regardless of his personal distaste. However, if Sean's strength was insufficient, kicking him out of the Elite Training Camp and dumping him into the ordinary recruit camp would be perfectly justified. No one could argue with that.
After all, what did this boy think the Elite Training Camp was? This was the cradle for future Marine officers, not a playground for nobles.
Sean wasn't surprised by Zephyr's reaction. He gave a slight nod and followed Ain out of the room. In truth, he found the nobility—especially those in the "Ten Stages of Pirates"—just as repulsive.
This reaction caught Zephyr off guard. He had expected the boy to throw a tantrum or demand special treatment, but he was unexpectedly calm.
Intrigued, Zephyr stood up and left his office to watch.
'''
A few minutes later, at the training grounds of the Elite Training Camp.
The students who had been training were pushed to the sidelines, leaving Ain and Sean standing opposite each other.
Having served by Zephyr's side, Ain knew exactly what the goal of this assessment was: to make this boy leave the Elite Training Camp. Consequently, she decided she wouldn't hold back.
"What weapon do you use?"
"A weapon? A sword will do."
"There are standard-issue Marine sabers over there. Pick one," Ain said coldly, pointing to a rack of about a dozen swords.
Sean nodded and walked over to choose.
As he looked at them, Sean couldn't help but criticize the Marine standard-issue gear. They were all Western-style sabers—the kind used in 'Pirates of the Caribbean'.
Honestly, compared to the various blades of the East and West from his previous life, Western sabers were rarely the best in any single category. Using them required immense skill to compensate for their lack of cutting edge and flexibility. Once faced with an opponent using an Eastern weapon that balanced power and technique, a Western saber was almost always at a disadvantage.
He picked one up, swung it a few times, and immediately wore a look of pure disgust.
In Ain's eyes, this look was an insult.
'As expected of a noble. You look down on the simple swords of the Marines?'
In Ain's experience, nobles used ornate, flashy blades. But a sword is a weapon; why does it need to be decorative? To her, Sean's expression was one of blatant condescension.
Due to this misunderstanding, a flicker of loathing rose within her.
Sean realized from Ain's tone that she had misinterpreted him, but he didn't bother explaining. He simply walked back and squared off against her.
"We can begin."
'BOOM!!!'
A crushing pressure suddenly blanketed the entire training ground. Even the students who had retreated to the edges were affected; several of them were slammed flat onto the ground by the invisible force.
Zephyr, who had followed them to the field, narrowed his eyes.
'What is this?'
'Conqueror's Haki?'
The Weight of Pressure
"No, it wasn't Conqueror's Haki, nor was it just sheer presence!"
'A gravity-manipulating Devil Fruit?'
But the files stated he had never eaten a Devil Fruit. Zephyr was perplexed.
Standing directly opposite Sean, Ain was enduring far more pressure than the students gathered at the edges of the training ground. She felt as though if she relaxed for even a moment, her knees would buckle under the immense weight.
"I don't know what Devil Fruit you've eaten," Ain declared, "but don't think that alone is enough to win this assessment!"
"Instructor Zephyr taught us that physical combat is the foundation of everything!"
"Soru!"
She vanished instantly, her speed blinding.
But... compared to Garp, she was still far too slow. Not just Garp—even Bogard was significantly faster than Ain.
With a slight shift of his feet, Sean vanished as well.
A moment later, the sound of clashing steel rang out.
'Clang! Clang! Clang!'
In a heartbeat, they had exchanged several blows. If this were Ain from five years in the future, her strength might have been respectable. But now? She was lacking.
After all, it had only been two years since Zephyr lost his arm, and Ain had graduated from the elite training camp only a year prior. At best, her strength was on par with a Marine Commander—perhaps even slightly less.
On the sidelines, Zephyr was somewhat surprised.
While Sean's swordsmanship was impressive, it was merely an application of basic techniques. Aside from his speed, precision, and the unorthodox angles of his strikes, there weren't many surprises.
However, what was with that movement just now?
It looked like the Soru of the Six Powers, yet it was different. Zephyr had clearly seen that Sean had only stepped seven times on the ground. And yet, his movement speed was not the least bit slower than Ain's.
In this match... Ain was likely to lose!