Can Shackles Bind a Flood Dragon?

"Iron Fist" Fullbody, sharing the same moniker as the Hero of the Marines, Iron Fist Garp, clearly possessed great ambition.

At sixteen years old, he had been promoted to Petty Officer only half a year after joining the Marines.

While this was partly due to the legacy of his father, who had died as a hero of the Headquarters, it was primarily a testament to his talent and his strength!

His Doriki test result was a staggering 98!

It should be noted that a standard Marine soldier wielding a weapon has a Doriki of only 10.

Yet Fullbody, at a mere sixteen, had reached a full 98 using nothing but a pair of brass knuckles!

What did this mean?

He could truly take on ten men! Ten armed Marines at once!

If he were facing ordinary villagers, he would be an unrivaled god of war, a heavenly soldier descended to earth!

Facing Drake's plain, unrefined, and technique-less palm strike, Fullbody relied on his seasoned experience to lift his arm.

He blocked it to the side of his left cheek, curled his lips into a confident, dashing smile, and cast a casual wink at the young girls nearby.

The next scene should have been him easily blocking the blow, asking with disappointment, "Is this all you've got?", then shaking his head with a sneer before retaliating.

Under the gaze of the crowd, Drake's palm connected.

Smack!

Fullbody's face distorted; the brass knuckles were driven into his own face by Drake's strike, his lips flaring out like a duck's bill.

He spun in place a dozen times, and when he finally collapsed from dizziness, his face was already swollen with large welts. He stared blankly at the ceiling, unable to recover for a long while.

Drake's hands trembled. He realized that the men, women, and children around him were all watching him. He had lost control and hit someone; if he were still on the pirate ship, his father would surely have disciplined him.

If he had to pay for medical expenses, he had no money to cover it...

Panic washed over his back. He wanted to bow and apologize, to let Fullbody hit him back... No! Ten times! Until the other boy was satisfied!

"I'm sor—"

"Well done! Haha!" Conrad jumped onto a chair and pressed down on Drake's shoulder. This guy was at least one meter ninety tall and still far from his full adult growth.

Drake looked at Conrad. "I... I hit someone."

"I saw," Conrad said, his eyes full of admiration. "Shouldn't you be happy that you won?"

Drake stared blankly at Conrad, as if seeing a starry sky on a snowy night. His trembling quietly ceased, and he relaxed significantly. He tried asking again, "We shouldn't just hit people, right?"

"It's fine, he was the one looking for trouble," Conrad said, clasping his hands behind his back. "To think he wanted to act like a big shot with that little bit of skill—truly pathetic."

At this moment, Smoker had reached the window and beckoned to them, "Hey! You two brats! Come over here!"

He didn't treat the fight as anything of consequence, nor did he shy away from acknowledging them despite the annoyed glares of others.

Small fry naturally wouldn't affect Conrad. The two walked to the window to complete their temporary residency registration and collect their dormitory keys.

Fullbody finally came to his senses and realized he had lost. Gritting his teeth, he ran out of the hall. "Damn it! He was clearly so strong! To think he'd pretend to be a rookie! I... I'll get my revenge sooner or later! The training grounds! I need to practice my punches!"

This was, after all, the Marine Headquarters, the home of soldiers. Aside from a few administrative departments, the overall atmosphere was martial.

It was common for orphans whose parents had died in battle to gather and engage in competitive brawls; it wasn't something that required serious disciplinary action.

The registration process concluded.

After taking their keys, they stepped outside, and Smoker waved them off. "My task is done. Do whatever you want, see ya."

"See ya," Conrad waved back and turned. After walking a few steps, he suddenly felt something stuffed into his hand.

He looked back to see a trail of smoke drifting away; Smoker had already reached the street corner.

Conrad opened his hand. In his palm were two 10,000-Beli notes and four 1,000-Beli notes, with a few coins of varying sizes tucked in between.

He counted the money carefully and headed toward the dormitory. "The registration office said we can stay here for three months, right?"

"Yes, and then they'll send us back to our home islands in the Four Blues," Drake said, keeping pace with Conrad. "But they said since I'm a Devil Fruit user, I could choose to apply for a special Marine department..."

He paused, staring at Conrad's back, and asked tentatively, "Do you have plans to become a Marine?"

"Yeah," Conrad nodded.

Drake's tense face broke into a smile, the X-shaped scar on his chin stretching. "Then I'll wait two years for you. We can enlist together."

"Two years?" Conrad raised an eyebrow. "I'm enlisting at the end of this month. I'm also participating in the selection for Instructor Zephyr's elite training camp next month."

"But... your age and height don't meet the requirements..." Drake pointed to the Headquarters recruitment poster posted at the entrance of the dormitory area. "Sixteen years old, over one meter seventy tall. Those with exceptional qualifications in all areas may be relaxed to fourteen."

Conrad stopped and read the poster, which featured a backdrop of Akainu and Kizaru staring each other down.

He had just had his blood type and bone age tested: Type XF blood, bone age twelve.

He was currently one meter sixty-three, two centimeters shorter than Kujaku.

"What is this? How could I be stopped by such mundane rules!"

Conrad's face suddenly turned black—so black that Drake thought his eyes were playing tricks on him. He rubbed his eyes several times, but he still couldn't see Conrad's face clearly.

"Should we go ask... the Admiral?" Drake said the word "Admiral" and still felt a heavy pressure. During the days he spent on the warship, he hadn't been able to look directly at him for even a second.

Whenever Vice Admiral Tsuru and Zephyr walked past him, the mere sound of their voices or the invisible pressure they radiated made it difficult for him to breathe.

"No need!" Conrad walked up to the door of Dormitory 108, inserted his key, and opened the door. "If they can lower the age limit to fourteen, they can lower it to thirteen or twelve! With my intelligence! My courage! My conditions are not an issue!"

"How could the shackles of the mediocre ever bind a dragon?" Conrad pushed the door open and stepped inside.

"That's right! I, Bling Bling! Will definitely become a Marine Admiral!"

On the top bunk of a double bed, a young man with a purple braid tied in a figure-eight shape across his forehead knelt at the head of the bed, pumping his fist and shouting.

Conrad took a step back, closed the door, and turned to ask Drake, "Did we go to the wrong room?"

Drake took out his own key, which also read 108, looked at the door plate, and shook his head. "This is the one."

Conrad twisted the key and pushed the door open again. Before the door had even fully swung wide, two hands reached out toward him and Drake.

"Two roommates! A pleasure, a real pleasure!" The young man had a long, square face, resembling a hairless goat, though a beard was already beginning to sprout on his chin.

Conrad was a man of the world; since the other party was being polite, he certainly wouldn't make them lose face, so he reached out and shook the hand.

Drake followed suit, and the three of them began to pump their hands up and down vigorously.

"My name is Bling Bling! I grew up in the East Blue! I'm a Marine recruit here to participate in the Zephyr Training Camp selection! I've made ample preparations for this assessment, so if there's anything you two want to discuss or know, feel free to ask me!"

"Of course, I'm also very happy to learn from you both! In the time to come, I hope we can get along well!"

Conrad's spirit surged. "There's no time like the present. Shall we head to the training grounds and run a few laps now?"

Bling Bling's expression turned serious as he glanced at the wall clock. "That makes sense. I haven't finished today's fifty-kilometer run yet. Shall we go together?"

"Shall we?" Conrad pointed toward the door.

"Let's go!" Bling Bling broke into a jog, dragging the other two along as they sprinted toward the training grounds.

The wind blew through their three heads of differently colored hair, and Drake, running at the back, couldn't stop grinning from ear to ear.