Under the bitter, resentful glares of the crowd, Tokikake rubbed his bruised face and shuffled off the field in his wooden sandals.
"Match Two: Gion versus Comil!"
As Zephyr's booming voice echoed across the training field, Gion and Comil leapt into the arena in perfect sync, their movements precise and powerful.
They locked eyes briefly—then, without hesitation, both drew their blades and charged.
Sparks flew in rapid bursts as their swords collided again and again.
But it didn't take long for the difference in skill to become obvious. Gion was clearly superior—not just in swordsmanship, but in overall combat technique.
After witnessing Tokikake's overwhelming defeat just moments earlier, the cadets couldn't help but exchange glances. Almost in unison, their eyes drifted toward the man watching the fight from the sidelines, calmly smoking a cigar with a faint, amused smile.
It was obvious to everyone now.
The explosive improvement of both Gion and Tokikake... was thanks to him—Rogers Darren, the so-called King of the North Blue.
Barely three minutes into the duel, it was over.
With Comil retreating in disarray, Gion found an opening. Her blade flashed, and his military saber was sent flying.
As he stumbled back, a gleaming golden katana stopped inches from his throat.
The razor-sharp aura pouring off the blade gave him goosebumps.
"I yield," he said with a resigned smile.
Gion sheathed her sword and bowed slightly.
"Thank you for the match."
Zephyr's voice rang out. No one looked surprised.
"Next up—Match Three: Kuzan versus Onigumo!"
At the announcement, Kuzan immediately perked up, eyes lighting up with excitement.
The dry, hoarse voice cut through the air like a knife, wiping the grin clean off Kuzan's face. His expression collapsed in an instant.
It was Onigumo—cold-eyed, stern-faced—meeting their gazes without flinching.
"I lack the means to pose a threat to Kuzan," he stated flatly.
"Until I've mastered Armament Haki, there's no way to counter a Logia-type Devil Fruit user. They're invincible."
The watching Marines exchanged thoughtful glances. As much as it stung, they couldn't help but agree.
Zephyr frowned slightly and turned toward Onigumo.
"You're certain about this?" he asked gravely. "Surrendering without a fight isn't a habit the Marines should develop."
Onigumo's voice remained calm.
"I understand your point, Instructor Zephyr."
"If I had even a one percent chance of victory, I'd take it."
His gaze remained steady—utterly unwavering.
"A battle with a predetermined outcome... is meaningless."
"...I see. Understood."
Zephyr paused, then smiled faintly.
"I'm glad to see you stand by your convictions."
He didn't press further.
A teacher's role isn't to forcibly rewrite a student's choices. It's to guide them—gently—toward the right path.
Those who insist "this is for your own good" and try to override a student's will... Zephyr disliked that kind of teaching.
He knew Onigumo well. His record and personality were no mystery.
This was a Marine who'd crushed pirates in the West Blue with brutal efficiency. No one could accuse him of cowardice.
His version of justice was simply... more pragmatic. More grounded in reality.
Cheers erupted from the cadets—but Kuzan himself looked utterly deflated.
He slumped to the ground, clutching his head like a man on the edge.
Zephyr just chuckled and shook his head. Then, he announced the final matchup of the round.
"The last match. The one that decides our fourth semifinalist—Darren versus Yamakaji!"
A ripple ran through the crowd as all eyes turned to Darren and Yamakaji.
The cigar was now down to the butt.
Darren snuffed it out and slowly stood.
His towering frame rose like a mountain from the earth, casting a vast shadow beneath the noon sun.
A suffocating pressure spread across the field—like a weight pressing down on everyone's chest.
The Marines fell silent. Their expressions tightened as they turned toward Yamakaji.
Just like Onigumo versus Kuzan, this match's outcome was already set in stone.
Kuzan's strength was visible—measurable. Even if it was daunting, it was still comprehensible.
The ruins of the demolished fortress still lay scattered across the training grounds, like the corpse of some war-torn beast. A monument to Darren's raw destruction.
The violence, the ferocity, the dominance he'd displayed earlier—it was monstrous. Traumatizing.
He hadn't even used his Devil Fruit yet.
If Kuzan was an unscalable wall, then Darren was a mountain piercing the heavens. You couldn't even see the summit.
The training grounds fell silent.
Everyone stared at Yamakaji, awaiting his decision.
And honestly? If he chose to surrender like Onigumo, no one would fault him.
Going up against Darren's brutal, no-holds-barred fighting style could mean serious injury.
And that might jeopardize his chance at fifth place—still up for grabs.
Strategically, stepping down made perfect sense.
After all, Yamakaji and Onigumo were the top contenders for that final ranking slot.
Better to save strength and live to fight another day.
Yamakaji remained seated.
Then, under the weight of everyone's gaze, he slowly lit a cigar—and took a deep pull.
He gripped his saber and, under a pressure like crashing mountains—
The crowd collectively blinked in surprise.
And yet, somehow, the moment he stood tall... everyone breathed a little easier.
Their hands clenched into fists.
A flicker of fire ignited in their hearts.
"Sorry to keep you waiting..."
Yamakaji looked up at Darren, smiling with his usual calm, eyes narrowed in a soft expression.
Scratching his buzz-cut awkwardly, he said:
"Facing a monster like you... takes a bit of mental preparation, you know?"
Darren's tone was cool and even.
"So... are you ready now?"
"Yeah," Yamakaji nodded. His smile was honest. Pure.
"I really want that fifth seat. It's a huge honor."
"If I get it... I can go home and make the old man proud. He always wanted me to become a 'hero' like Vice Admiral Garp."
"But the more I thought about it..."
"To become a hero—you can't back down here, right?"
"Even if I know I don't stand a chance..."
Darren studied the tanned young man before him, pausing for a long moment.
Then he said quietly:
"Yes. Being a hero is a losing game..."
"You'll spend your whole life doing stupid things that hurt."
Yamakaji's grin widened.
"Exactly why I have to fight you. And I hope you go all out."
He raised his blade, both hands steady, body brimming with resolve.
"Because one day... I'll be facing pirates just like you—'monsters' in their own right. And I'll have to fight them in the name of justice."
"If that's the future I'm walking into—then I'd better start getting used to despair, right now."
The words hit like a thunderclap.
Everyone's eyes flew wide. Their hearts trembled.
An emotion they couldn't quite name surged like fire in their chests.
Zephyr's face lit up with pride.
Kuzan's eyes flared as he punched the air in excitement.
Tokikake clenched his fists, eyes burning.
Gion pressed her lips together, fighting emotion.
Dust danced across the earth.
The blazing spirit of youth burned hotter than the sun itself.
And in that moment...
The buzz-cut Marine stood—
Taller than anyone else on that field.
Taller even than the monster before him.
"...What an interesting fool," Darren murmured.
It wasn't a big smile. But it was real.
Because in this kid... he saw something of himself.
And slowly, he raised his right hand.
At his command, the metal bracer around his forearm began to melt and twist, forming three smooth, mirror-like silver orbs that hovered and spun around him in a graceful orbit.
"Then come," Darren said.