The Doriki test involved using your strongest, most practiced attack to leave a mark on a steel plate. An instrument attached to the plate displayed the damage as a numerical reading.
You could use a weapon or attack barehanded.
"Ulysses, Doriki: 77. Pass."
"Maren, Doriki: 72. Pass."
"Bill, Doriki: 83. Pass."
"."
As the examiner called out the results, the line for the Doriki test moved along quickly.
The Training Camp cadets didn't disappoint.
Dozens of them took their turns, and every one passed.
Most of the cadets had a Doriki score below a hundred. A few occasionally scored over a hundred, but not by much.
That did nothing to dampen the crowd's interest, because the three most anticipated candidates hadn't taken their turns yet.
Suddenly, Morito's name was called.
His name still sat at the top of the electronic board for the physical fitness test. As soon as the crowd heard the name Morito, they grew excited.
People who didn't know the whole story were easily led astray.
But once they saw the "truth" for themselves, they changed their minds right away. That was common and only natural.
"Is that Ōtsutsuki Morito, the one who got an S in every physical fitness test? He doesn't look like much!"
"He's pretty handsome, though. I wonder how strong he is."
"I heard Vice Admiral Garp brought him back. He can't be bad."
Out on the open sea, strength was what mattered. Being good-looking was just a bonus. If you had to choose between handsome and strong, you'd naturally pick the latter.
This time, though, the Training Camp cadets didn't mock Morito.
That row of S's on the electronic board had practically blinded them. Even now, they still hadn't quite come to their senses.
With countless eyes fixed on him, Morito calmly walked to the middle of the testing area.
"Use the attack you're best at—the strongest one you can manage—to hit this steel plate. You can use a weapon or attack barehanded."
The examiner gave him a brief explanation.
The available weapons were melee weapons such as swords, spears, and staffs. If everyone could roll up with a cannon and blast the plate, the test would be meaningless.
Morito gently rested his hand against the steel plate.
He tilted his head toward the examiner and asked, "What's the highest Doriki this plate can withstand?"
Doriki could give a rough idea of someone's combat strength, but it couldn't determine their full capabilities.
Put more simply, Doriki measured a person's strongest attack!
The examiner in charge of recording the scores was taken aback. He didn't understand why Morito was asking.
Did the kid think he could smash the plate?
The plate might not look very thick, but it could withstand a direct hit of a thousand Doriki!
"Go ahead and hit it. This plate's plenty sturdy!" the examiner urged impatiently. Hundreds of people were still waiting behind him!
Even so, he answered Morito's question.
"A thousand Doriki. This plate can withstand a maximum of a thousand."
"Got it."
Morito replied calmly. Chakra surged through his body, then gathered in his palm.
Bang!
He brought his palm down. A dull thud rang out.
The steel plate let out a piercing buzz, and even the testing instrument behind it shook violently.
The examiner felt the ground shift beneath his feet and quickly bent down to steady himself.
Before he could regain his balance, he heard a chorus of sharp gasps.
Hsssss!!
"999? Just one point short of a thousand? Am I seeing things?"
"Could the instrument be broken?"
A Doriki score of 999 was neither particularly high nor particularly low.
Among the exceptionally gifted teenagers who graduated from the Naval Academy, many could reach several hundred Doriki, and more than a few could break a thousand.
As for the monsters in the Elite Class, failing to reach a thousand Doriki would be embarrassing.
But this was the Training Camp's final exam!
The oldest candidate was only eighteen, and the white-eyed boy in the testing area was just fifteen!
The crowd was shocked, but only surprised.
After all, they were just there to watch the show. And to them, 99 Doriki and 999 Doriki were just numbers with a different number of digits. They couldn't grasp the difference.
The Training Camp cadets, on the other hand, were completely rattled.
They knew how much effort it took to raise your Doriki by even one point. Outsiders could never understand!
"How is that possible? 999? I must be dreaming!" Many cadets rubbed their eyes, unable to believe the number on the instrument.
"Wasn't he at the bottom of the final exam every year?"
"You call this the bottom?"
The cadets didn't want to believe it, but both the Doriki test and the earlier physical fitness test had been open to everyone.
Everyone used the same equipment. Morito wasn't the first to take the test, and he wouldn't be the last. There was no way he could have cheated.
For a moment, everyone pursed their lips, unable to say a word.
Someone they'd once looked down on now stood at the very top, so far above them that all they could do was gaze up at his back.
Not everyone could bear such a dramatic reversal.
Their hearts churned like a river in flood, unable to settle for a long while.
"Impossible! He must've cheated!"
"Exactly! That blind bastard definitely cheated! No one in the Training Camp's final exam has ever scored 999!"
A few cadets, carried away by their emotions and speaking without thinking, suddenly broke into furious curses.
The officer in charge of the Doriki test was a Navy Ensign.
He recovered from his shock and carefully checked the instrument. Though he, too, found the result unbelievable, his inspection showed that there was nothing wrong with it.
Morito's Doriki really was 999!
Hearing the uproar below, the ensign's face darkened. Cheating? Right in front of him? In front of all these people?
Were they insulting him, or the Naval Academy?
"Quiet!"
The ensign barked, scolding the noisy cadets.
He repeated the test result and declared it beyond dispute. "Morito, Doriki: 999. Pass."
As the saying went, outsiders watched the spectacle, while experts understood the details.
Only a true master could see how much control it had taken Morito to land that one blow.
On the top floor of the teaching building, in Zephyr's office, Zephyr sprang to his feet the moment Morito's Doriki test result appeared.
A student who got full marks on every exam was a top student.
But someone who got exactly sixty every time was a monster!
Only someone who understood the purpose of every question could anticipate the examiner's deductions while grading: what would be deducted, and how many points.
To do all that and guarantee the same score every time, a person had to control their result precisely. Anyone who could keep their score at exactly sixty every time was a true monster!
Assuming Morito's score of 999 hadn't merely been a coincidence caused by that being his limit...
For a fifteen-year-old boy to control his strength perfectly and strike with exactly 999 Doriki wasn't something hard work alone or talent alone could achieve.
It took both talent and hard work!
"Garp, what exactly is this kid?"
Zephyr wasn't like the crowd of onlookers in the plaza.
His eye was sharp, and when it came to teaching, he surpassed Sengoku, Garp, and Tsuru.
He could tell that Morito's score of 999 wasn't a fluke. Morito had deliberately controlled his strength and struck with exactly 999 Doriki.
It was unbelievable!
That wasn't to say no one else could do it. A Vice Admiral could manage it; even a Rear Admiral could.
But the boy standing before them wasn't a Rear Admiral, let alone a Vice Admiral!
He was only fifteen!
"That didn't look like Armament Haki just now, did it?"
Garp stuck his little finger up his nose. There wasn't the slightest trace of surprise on his face. He was just curious about the unfamiliar ability Morito seemed to have mastered.
After a long while, Garp finally reacted.
Had someone just called him?
Garp flicked a lump of black stuff off his little finger. It landed right on a biscuit in front of Zephyr.
"Were you calling me?"
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