Still Protein Feed

The morning after the class placement test ended, the Elite Training Camp finally truly began.

There was none of the various instruction they had imagined.

"Before you learn how to kill, you must first learn how to survive on a complex and ever-changing battlefield!"

"My name is Shuzo. I was once Chief Instructor Zephyr's adjutant, and from now on, I'll be your physical training instructor!" An instructor stood before the formation, his voice loud and powerful.

"Today, your only task is to squeeze out every last bit of your strength!"

The first training exercise was a thirty-kilogram weighted cross-country run around the island.

Shuzo personally led the run at the front of the formation, while several other physical training instructors prowled back and forth along both sides like vicious sheepdogs, searching for "lambs" who had fallen behind.

Without warning, they would suddenly rush up beside a recruit. Their rough hands would clamp around the recruit's wrist like iron pincers, pinning down the pulse with two fingers.

After feeling it for several seconds, they would unleash an earth-shaking roar:

"Your heart rate's dropping! Are you taking a stroll here?! Start running!"

The roars were accompanied by whips that could leave bloody welts across their backs! The crisp cracks of whips and the pained groans of recruits became the background music of this island-circling training session.

But for Rayne, it was a tremendous test of his acting skills.

With his [Advanced] physique, this level of weighted running was no different from taking a walk. His heart rate could barely even rise above a hundred.

As he ran, he had to precisely control the flow of blood and the rhythm of his heartbeat within his body, forcibly pushing himself into a high-load state to imitate the appearance of exhaustion.

That allowed him to blend perfectly into the middle-to-lower ranks of the Elite Class, wearing a miserable expression without standing out or falling behind.

Next came the second exercise—deep-sea pressure training.

The recruits were brought to a jagged, reef-lined stretch of shore beside Marineford.

Cold seawater crashed against slippery moss-covered rocks, making it extremely difficult just to keep their footing.

Their task was to use specially made ropes thicker than their arms to haul enormous boulders resting hundreds of meters beneath the sea up toward the surface.

This was not merely a test of strength, but a brutal trial for their muscles.

"One, two! Pull! One, two! Pull!"

Instructor Shuzo's hoarse shouts echoed along the shore like war drums.

Every recruit wore a ferocious expression, veins bulging as every muscle in their bodies was tensed to the limit. Each exertion came with a suppressed growl.

Rayne was also muddling through among the crowd.

This amount of weight and pulling force did not even count as a warm-up for him. Most of his attention went toward imitating the twisted expressions and ragged breathing of those around him.

Just then, a short cry of alarm rang out.

Rosinante, who already lacked coordination, slipped on the unusually slick moss beneath his feet. The rope in his hands instantly slipped free by more than half! He lost his balance entirely and was dragged screaming toward the pitch-black sea trench by the enormous force!

The two recruits standing not far from him not only failed to help, but exchanged malicious looks, preparing to enjoy the spectacle of this clumsy recruit.

Rayne, who was nearby, took in everything.

The name he had heard during roll call yesterday morning echoed through his mind again, carrying an inescapable sense of familiarity.

His gaze instinctively locked onto that messy head of brilliant blond hair, especially conspicuous beneath the sunlight.

I remember now. Corazon—the clumsy man who was gentle enough to be a fool.

An image flashed through Rayne's mind: that man in the snow, taking several bullets to save a child, yet dying with a smile on his face.

Seriously, even when I read the manga in my previous life, I thought that big golden retriever of a guy didn't deserve to be treated so cruelly by fate.

The situation was not fatal, but if Rosinante crashed into the reefs, breaking several bones would be unavoidable.

In that split second, Rayne also seemed unable to bear the strain any longer and suddenly slid to one side!

Pretending that the boulder beneath his feet had pulled him off balance as well, he staggered a huge step toward Rosinante.

Within that seemingly unbalanced step, his military boot "accidentally" stomped down hard on Rosinante's rope, which had been stretched taut by the immense pulling force, grinding it firmly against the edge of a slick reef beneath his foot!

Screech—!

A piercing scraping sound rang out between the rope and the reef. The enormous friction instantly stalled the rope sliding toward the sea for a fraction of a second.

That fraction of a second gave Rosinante, who was about to be dragged into the water, a chance to catch his breath! The force on his hands suddenly eased, and his survival instincts made him immediately correct his posture. He gripped the remaining rope tightly and used all his strength to steady himself.

At the same time, Rayne let out an "Ah!" as though stepping on someone else's rope had thrown him off balance again. He rolled along the ground, then finally "miserably" grabbed hold of his own rope again.

The entire process was chaotic yet plausible, looking like nothing more than an accident caused by exhaustion.

Instructor Shuzo's roar followed at once. "Useless trash! You can't even hold onto a rope properly! Get up and keep going!"

During the brief break, the recruits sprawled across the ground like dead dogs, gasping for air.

Rosinante, like a big golden retriever covered in mud, limped over to Rayne. His face was full of relief at having survived and uncertain gratitude.

"Um... Rayne?" he asked hesitantly. "Just now... was that you..."

Rayne was leaning against a rock, looking like he was about to die from exhaustion. Hearing that, he weakly opened one eye and stared at him with a blank expression. "Huh? What?"

"It's just... my rope, it seemed like..."

"Oh, you mean that." Rayne put on an expression of sudden realization mixed with lingering fear and said between ragged breaths, "Don't mention it... My foot slipped too just now. I almost got dragged down with you, so I stepped everywhere in a panic... Good thing I didn't trip you."

Seeing Rayne's sincere yet frightened expression, all of Rosinante's doubts vanished, replaced by even stronger gratitude.

He was convinced that Rayne had deliberately fallen to save him, even risking a scolding from the instructor!

"N-No! You helped me a lot!" Rosinante hurriedly waved his hands, looking at Rayne with absolute sincerity. "Anyway, thank you, Rayne! Really!"

After a full day of training, Rayne eagerly headed for the cafeteria.

This was their first meal after the official class placement, and he still held onto one last shred of hope.

Yesterday's cauldron slop was probably only temporary. Now that we've been assigned to classes and there's a distinction in rank, the Elite Class food should at least look a little elite, right?

However, when he reached the Elite Class's exclusive serving window and saw the cafeteria aunt ladle out the same indescribable gray mush from the pot, his final hope was shattered.

Still unwilling to give up, he held his tray and looked over the crowd toward the Monster Class dining area separated off in the distance.

The food there really was different—every tray had one more piece of steak than theirs.

Smoker was poking at his nearly charred-black steak with a fork, his face filled with disgust as though he were poking a rock.

Rayne withdrew his gaze and expressionlessly poured that serving of "protein feed" into his mouth.

Though the cafeteria food was terrible, Rayne could clearly feel that this systematic training, combined with the cafeteria's "protein feed," had indeed produced a faint, almost imperceptible improvement in his physique.

At this intensity... if I could increase the training volume tenfold and keep it up without interruption for ten years... perhaps I could reach the threshold of [Top-tier] physique through my own efforts alone.

A twenty-six-year-old monster who reached Marine Headquarters vice admiral level through pure physical ability... he'd count as a true genius anywhere, wouldn't he?

But the instant that thought arose, Rayne ruthlessly snuffed it out.

But... ten years?

Living like livestock for ten years straight, eating this pig slop every day? What kind of joke is that?!

I don't have that kind of patience.

Rayne swallowed the last mouthful of "feed," feeling the warmth and fullness spreading through his stomach.

The path of a genius is too exhausting. I should find a way to take my shortcut instead.