"Black Arm" Zephyr

The iron door of the confinement room was yanked open roughly, and blinding morning light flooded in, making the two men, who had spent the night in darkness, squint instinctively.

"Get out!" the instructor roared impatiently.

Rayne and Smoker walked out without a word. The instructor's threatening gaze swept over them, and when he saw Smoker's slightly pale face, his lips curled into a disdainful sneer.

"If I catch you causing trouble again, one night in confinement won't be the end of it!" he snarled. "Now get your asses to the central training ground and assemble!"

Smoker's face turned livid. Without saying a word, he strode ahead, instinctively putting two or three meters between himself and Rayne. His gaze darted away, and he did not dare meet Rayne's eyes.

Rayne, meanwhile, acted as if nothing had happened. He rolled his neck, stiff from sitting cross-legged all night, while wondering what the cafeteria might be serving today.

They had not gone far from the confinement building when a lazy, teasing voice came from the roadside.

"Oh? Looks like you and Smoker had quite the exchange last night."

The pink-haired woman from yesterday was leaning against the wall, a lady's cigarette between her lips as she studied them with interest.

Smoker halted, his expression turning uglier than ever. Yet, unusually, he did not lash out. He merely squeezed a few words through clenched teeth. "Mind your own business!"

With that, he quickened his pace without looking back.

"Tch, what a rude man." The woman pursed her lips indifferently. Her gaze then settled curiously on the calm Rayne behind him.

Pink hair, cigarette always in hand... No mistake. This is the future "Black Cage" Hina.

He ignored Hina's inquisitive gaze and followed directly behind Smoker toward the central training ground.

The moment he arrived, the sight before him caught his attention.

It was a vast open-air training ground stretching beyond the eye could see, its floor paved with hard bluestone and covered in deep marks left by countless training sessions.

Weapon racks as large as small hills stood all around, along with all manner of training equipment he had never even heard of. The entire grounds were steeped in a grim aura of steel and gunpowder.

Several hundred elite recruits, carefully selected from across the world, had already assembled into neat formations.

Yet beneath the surface, the formations were far from calm.

These prodigies from the Four Seas and the Grand Line all carried undisguised pride.

They sized one another up, their eyes filled with scrutiny and fierce competitive spirit.

The air reeked of gunpowder, as if someone might start fighting at any moment over a provocative glance.

Smoker's arrogant, "I'm the best in the world" attitude naturally drew plenty of attention. The moment he joined the ranks, several equally formidable-looking men cast hostile looks his way.

Rayne quietly made his way to the very back of the formation, found the most inconspicuous corner, and watched everything with cold eyes.

Tch, a bunch of little brats with too many hormones. They sure have a lot of energy.

Just as the atmosphere on the training ground grew increasingly tense, a mountain-like pressure descended upon the entire grounds without warning!

All noise and commotion came to an abrupt halt in that instant!

Rayne suddenly raised his head. On the high platform of the training ground stood a towering figure, as massive as a demon god, though no one knew when he had appeared.

He stood over three meters tall, his distinctive short purple hair spiking upward like steel needles. A pair of broad sunglasses concealed his eyes.

He carried no weapon, yet the arms hanging naturally at his sides, thicker than an ordinary man's thighs, radiated a more terrifying pressure than any weapon could.

The former Marine Admiral and current chief Marine instructor—"Black Arm" Zephyr!

Zephyr did not waste words. He loudly announced to every recruit:

"I don't care which branch's ace you used to be, and I don't care what Devil Fruit abilities you have! From today onward, you have only one identity here—Marine recruits!"

"For the next year, I'll hammer you like scraps of iron! Those who can't endure it can get the hell out! Only those who remain until the end will be qualified to become the true 'high walls' and 'sharp swords' that protect justice!"

He swept his gaze over the recruits below, whose faces had gone pale under his imposing presence, and his voice suddenly rose.

"Now, does anyone want to quit?!" The entire grounds fell deathly silent. A pin could have been heard dropping.

Here it comes—the boss's favorite part: empty promises and corporate culture speeches. Rayne stood in the formation, completely unmoved and even a little sleepy. Still... this old man's presence is far more intimidating than that bald boss from my past life who only knew how to brag.

Zephyr seemed satisfied with the recruits' reactions. His enormous palm slowly rose, pointing toward a testing area beside the training ground that had been specially sectioned off and filled with precise instruments.

"Very good!" he declared coldly. "Before I hammer you into shape, I first need to see what you're made of! Your first lesson—entrance placement testing!"

"There will be three rounds: Doriki Value, pressure resistance, and actual combat!"

"I'll make this clear first," he said, his voice cold and merciless.

"You don't need to worry that failing one test will get you kicked out. After all, everyone standing here used to be an elite at their branch."

He paused, and his tone became even more chilling.

"But! Your total score will determine your rank for the coming year!"

"The top 10% will enter Monster Class. You will receive the best resources and priority instruction!"

"The middle 70% will enter Elite Class. You will receive regular training suited to your level."

"As for the bottom 20%..." A cruel smile spread across Zephyr's face. "You will enter the Reserve Class! You will eat what others leave behind, and your training volume will be three times theirs! You will use blood and sweat to wash away that humiliation!"

"Every month, you will have one chance to be reassessed. Whether you climb upward or rot at the bottom is entirely up to you!"

The entire grounds erupted!

Shock and gravity filled every recruit's face. This naked division of ranks was far more stressful and humiliating than simply eliminating people outright!

Oh? Performance-based class placement? Now that's something I know.

Monster Class is too conspicuous, while Reserve Class would be too troublesome. Looks like my first challenge will be precisely controlling my total score across all three rounds to land quietly in the upper-middle ranks of Elite Class.