Momonga couldn't help smiling at Gion's partner's words.
"A monster? Maybe I am..."
"I joined Branch 321 at the same time as Colonel Darren. I remember clearly that on his first day of training, five years ago..."
A flicker of nostalgia shone in Momonga's usually stern, resolute eyes.
"Back then, he was scrawny. He completely ran out of stamina after ten laps around the training grounds, and had to rest for half an hour before he could catch his breath and get back up."
"Among the recruits who joined at the same time, he had the worst physical fitness across the board."
"But he didn't give up."
"He kept training every day, and almost every day he challenged his own physical limits."
"At first, he dragged an artillery barrel around. Then he moved on to a small rowboat... It took him a full three years before Colonel Darren could barely drag a decommissioned warship one meter."
"Compared to Rear Admiral Sakazuki, a 'monster' by birth, Colonel Darren is a monster of a different kind."
Gion and her partner fell silent at his words.
Clang...
Darren dropped the thick iron chain. Standing beneath the blazing sun, he panted heavily, feeling as if his throat and lungs were being torn apart like bellows.
Every muscle in his body seemed to be burning, sending waves of searing pain through him.
But he had long since grown used to this kind of suffering.
Darren looked back at the long groove the warship had left in the earth as he dragged it, and roughly estimated the distance.
One hundred and one meters...
He'd finally broken his own record.
He checked his physical stats again.
Physique: 58.106 (+0.03)
Strength: 53.837 (+0.06)
Speed: 57.539
Devil Fruit: 71.345
His physique had increased by 0.03, and his strength by 0.06.
"My stats are improving more and more slowly. Looks like I need to switch to a larger warship."
Darren stared at his "status panel" and muttered to himself.
This was the best use he had found for his "perception" talent.
He could use the feedback from each stat to judge whether his current training method was effective.
The human body had a powerful ability to adapt. The same weights and external pressure, combined with a similar training method, might yield good results at first. But as the body continued to adapt, the benefits gradually diminished until progress nearly stopped.
That was the scientific explanation.
Before Darren had crossed over, he'd learned that professional athletes also regularly changed their training plans to keep improving their performance.
"Progressive overload" was a basic principle in sports science.
It meant continually increasing the training "load" within the body's limits to improve athletic performance.
But with his "precise perception" talent, Darren could use the feedback from his stats to judge more accurately whether his current training was effective.
So even though he endured what others saw as "hellish" torment every day and followed a "monstrous" training regimen, he still welcomed it.
Because he could see the results right away.
Every extra push-up and every extra weighted squat made his "stats" rise right before his eyes.
It was almost as if he were a character in a game.
Of course, this world wasn't a game. It was real.
He understood better than anyone how dangerous the world of pirates was.
That was why he trained harder than anyone else.
Only then could he compete on equal terms with the true "monsters" of this sea!
With his talent, he firmly believed that as long as he put in superhuman effort, one day he would become as powerful as Whitebeard—able to stop a speeding warship with his bare hands.
"Then it's time to start training my physique."
As his breathing gradually steadied, Darren looked up and beckoned to Momonga.
He could feel that his body had reached its limit for the day. Forcing himself to continue strength training wouldn't help; it would only cause hidden injuries, strain his muscles, and exhaust his body's potential.
"Colonel Darren's calling me."
On the other side of the training ground, Momonga said a few words to Gion and her partner, then started walking.
But he soon paused, as if remembering something, and turned back with a smile.
"By the way, the next part is going to be exciting. Don't blink."
Gion and her partner stared at him, startled.
Momonga didn't explain. He only gave them a mysterious smile.
He wasn't usually the sort to take pleasure in other people's discomfort, but for some reason, seeing these two "heaven's favored children" from Headquarters looking so shocked, as if they'd never seen the world, made him inexplicably happy.
"Form up!"
Momonga barked the order.
In less than twenty seconds, dozens of Marines around the training grounds had quickly assembled in the center.
They seemed to have been ready for this all along, forming two ranks.
Clang!
With a crisp metallic ring, the Marines in the front rank drew their swords in unison.
Whoosh!
At the same time, the Marines in the rear rank raised their flintlock rifles in unison.
Every one of them held their breath.
Their eyes were fixed on the target... Darren, standing in the middle of the training ground!
"Hey, hey... You've got to be kidding..."
Gion's partner seemed to realize what was about to happen. His face filled with disbelief, and the corner of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
Gion swallowed hard and said hoarsely,
"This kind of training... people really can die doing it..."
Before they could get over their shock, Momonga issued a stern command.
"Attack!"
At his words,
The Marines in the front rank charged their base commander, swords in hand.
Their sharp, cold blades showed no mercy as they hacked at every part of Darren's body!
His head, face, neck, chest, back, arms, thighs, and throat...
They covered every part of him thoroughly.
Clang, clang, clang, clang!
Yet it was as if they were striking steel. Sparks burst from the blades before their edges chipped and broke.
After one round of hacking, the swords were ruined. The Marines in the front rank quickly scattered.
The Marines in the rear, rifles at the ready, immediately pulled their triggers.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
A dense curtain of bullets engulfed Darren. They ricocheted again and again, leaving clear bullet craters in the ground.
Once they'd fired a round, the Marines in the rear immediately drew their swords and charged Darren.
Meanwhile, the front rank gathered behind them again and began reloading their flintlocks.
The two ranks took turns...
Swords,
gunfire,
and, every so often, Momonga would drag a heavy cannon out of the nearby armory and fire a shot at Darren during the switch between ranks.
Swords broke, guns roared, and cannonballs exploded. Billowing black smoke and flames rose from the training ground, stirring up clouds of dust and sand. From a distance, it looked like a small-scale war.
At the edge of the training ground, Gion and her partner stared in stunned silence at this terrifying, almost self-destructive spectacle.
They were dumbstruck.
No Iron Body, no dodging, no blocking...
That madman
was relying solely on the defensive strength of his own body to withstand such a fierce assault!
"Can... can a human really do this?"
Gion and her partner stared at the man who still stood tall amid the hail of bullets, their faces pale as they murmured.
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