The gas is gone... do you think that's a good thing!?
Zephyr's mouth twitched uncontrollably, unable to believe his own eyes.
The poisonous gas that ordinary people avoided like the plague—and even he, a Marine Admiral, feared—was being inhaled by that brat Daren as if it were a cigar!
Looking at the smoke-filled room, with streams of twisting, rope-like purple poison being sucked up in torrents, Daren seemed like a supercharged exhaust fan...
Zephyr stood there, stunned, unable to speak for a long time.
"D-Daren, what the hell are you doing!?"
Zephyr stammered, cautiously weaving through the drifting poison clouds as he pressed down his rising anxiety and entered the room.
"I'm training Magellan, of course," Daren said matter-of-factly, his nostrils twitching as he continued to greedily inhale, afraid of missing even a trace.
"Look, Zephyr-sensei, the poison gas intensity meter developed by the Marine Science and Technology Division is hanging on the wall. Compared to a month ago, the intensity of Magellan's released toxins has already doubled."
As he spoke, Daren proudly puffed out his chest, clearly satisfied with his own teaching skills.
Old man Zephyr nearly burst a blood vessel.
I told you to guide Magellan's training, to help him better control the Doku Doku no Mi—not to wring out his abilities like a sponge!
Glancing at the gauge on the wall, which was nearly bursting through the limit, the display glowing a horrifying blood red as if it might explode at any moment, Zephyr felt his scalp crawl.
With toxin levels this high, if he wasn't wearing the latest anti-poison suit, he couldn't imagine how many days he'd be stuck on the toilet afterward.
And most importantly...
That poison is enough to kill a person—why are you sucking it all into your body!?
Zephyr's heart throbbed painfully at the sight, his mind buzzing from the sheer absurdity of the scene.
"Alright, that's enough. Magellan, take a break."
At that moment, Daren suddenly waved his hand with a smile.
Magellan collapsed like he had been granted amnesty, retracting his Devil Fruit ability and slumping to the ground, gasping heavily for air.
"It's... finally over..."
His face was drained of color, his body limp as if he'd been completely wrung dry.
"Explain yourself. What the hell is going on with you?"
Outside the quarantine zone, inside the Chief Instructor's office at the military academy.
Zephyr paced anxiously in front of the restroom, his hands clasped behind his back, cigar clenched tightly between his teeth.
From inside came the sound of splashing water, along with the gritted snarls of a certain Marine Vice Admiral.
"Zephyr-sensei, can't you just wait a bit longer... I'm really... not exactly free right now... ahhh..."
Daren's pained voice came through, followed by another round of furious splashing.
The constant sound of flushing water made Zephyr's mouth twitch, a black line forming across his forehead, as if some terrible memory had resurfaced.
He gritted his teeth.
The memory of that horrifying scene still lingered in his mind, and curiosity burned so fiercely that he couldn't pull himself away from the bathroom door.
"Inhaling that much poison at once could lead to total organ failure... Magellan's poison is highly corrosive and extremely damaging to the nervous system..."
Zephyr clenched his fists tight.
"What the hell are you doing, you brat!?"
He couldn't just stand there and watch Daren destroy himself.
"I... I'm... training..."
Daren's broken, strained voice came out between bouts of effort.
"Have you lost your damn mind, brat!?"
Zephyr roared furiously.
"What kind of training is that!? Strengthening your lung capacity? Testing your rectal endurance!?"
Another loud toilet flush echoed.
The bathroom door creaked open, and Daren staggered out, his face ashen and hollow, forcing a crooked grin through clenched teeth.
"Neither... I was... strengthening my physique."
Before Zephyr could even react, Daren hobbled awkwardly to the sofa, skillfully laid down a soft cushion, and carefully, painstakingly sat himself down.
"Magellan's poison is indeed powerful, but it gave me an idea... What if I could gradually adapt my body by continuously inhaling the poison, thereby boosting my resistance and immunity?"
Daren shifted his posture, propped his feet up on the coffee table, and lit a cigar.
"Don't you think it makes sense, Zephyr-sensei?"
Zephyr nodded seriously.
"Yeah, it makes perfect sen—bullshit!"
He suddenly exploded, spitting as he shouted. Read complete version only at novel fire.net
"You call that training? You're playing with your life!"
He was so furious his eyelids were twitching, panting with rage.
But Daren only chuckled unconcernedly.
This kind of training method might be insane to others, but for Daren—who had endured the endless virus experiments from that fat man in suspenders—it was perfectly reasonable.
He calmed his mind and carefully sensed his body's state, his deep, half-lidded eyes flashing with a heated glow.
Physique: 95.017 (Indestructible Body)
Strength: 86.625 (Giant's Strength)
Speed: 86.730 (Soru's Godspeed)
Devil Fruit Mastery: 86.186 (Island-Wide Coverage)
Armament Haki: 74.765 (Internal Destruction, Devil Form)
Observation Haki: 76.521 (Magnetic Field Sensing)
Conqueror's Haki: 81.469 (Affecting Matter)
In just a month, the improvement was staggering!
His Physique had "skyrocketed" from 92 to 95. Although it was only a 3-point increase on paper, in terms of overall defense and recovery, it was at least a 10% boost!
Especially his body's recovery speed and resistance to various poisons—Daren estimated they had improved by at least one-third compared to a month ago.
Moreover, aside from defense and recovery, the overall rise in physique had caused a "spillover" effect on his other physical stats.
His Strength rose from 83 to 86, and Speed also climbed from 84 to 86. With the combined boost in Physique, Strength, and Speed, even his Armament Haki had increased by a point!
It was no exaggeration to say this was the biggest leap Daren had made since Kaidou's personal training—surpassing even the brutal lessons from Queen, that suspenders-wearing fat bastard.
After all, gaining just 1 point at the 60-range and at the 90-range were two completely different levels of difficulty and meaning.
p@treon com / PinkSnake