The next day, Marineford, Marine Recruit Training Camp.
A streak of dawn spread across the horizon, and half a crimson sun peeked out from between the clouds.
Today was Loa's first day in the Marines, so he had unusually gotten up early, running along while gnawing on a huge pile of buns.
They were free anyway, so he might as well eat more.
On the way to the training ground, the equally hurried recruits along the road could not help giving him a few extra looks.
"That guy can really eat!"
"He's Loa, right? I heard Vice Admiral Momonga brought him back."
"That should be him. Keep it down. Yesterday, Vice Admiral Momonga sent him flying with one punch, and he smashed through a warship's armor without a scratch. Looks like another Monster."
"Mm, mm."
Word of Loa joining the Marines had already spread. After all, the Warship sent back to the shipyard for repairs was far too conspicuous. At first, everyone thought Vice Admiral Momonga had been attacked at sea, but after asking around, they learned the reason. Loa's name spread along with it.
Loa did not care about their chatter. As a transmigrator, he still felt as though he were watching a 3D movie.
Loa had also figured out the timeline. It was now the sixteenth year of the Great Pirate Era, Sea Circle Calendar 1516. Ace would set sail in a year, while Monkey D. Luffy, the child of destiny, was still holed up in Foosha Village preparing to head out to sea.
He ran all the way to the training ground, where quite a few recruits had already gathered.
While chewing the last bun, Loa surveyed his fellow recruits.
"Big beard? Don't know him."
"Blonde foreign beauty? Don't know her either."
"Guy with two swords at his waist? Still don't know him."
After making a full round of observations, Loa swallowed his final bite in relief. Great, they were all extras!
Extras were good. If they were all extras, he would not run into any weird nonsense and could train under Zephyr without worry.
Soon, a man dressed as an instructor arrived at the training ground. Judging by his rank, he should have been a rear admiral. Facing the recruits, he shouted, "Seventh Squad! Fall in!"
The recruits, who had gradually gathered when he appeared, immediately ran together at the command and lined up in several rows. Loa had no idea where he was supposed to stand, but fortunately, the recruits did not make a perfectly even number. There were two empty spots in the last row, so he hurried over and took one.
After a brief opening speech, the instructor turned sideways and snapped a salute toward the right. "Admiral Zephyr, the seventh squad of the Recruit Camp has five recruits present out of five expected. Awaiting your orders!"
Loa looked over at those words. Sure enough, Zephyr, dressed in a purple suit, had appeared at some point in a corner of the training ground. The recruits saw him as well, and the formation immediately became restless.
"That's Admiral Zephyr! I'm so excited!"
"Yeah! I can't believe we're seeing Admiral Zephyr in person!"
"Hey, why is Admiral Zephyr at the Recruit Camp today? Doesn't he normally only oversee training at the Elite Camp?"
"Probably because of that matter."
"That matter? Could it be...?"
Hearing the buzzing within the ranks, the rear admiral's face darkened as he roared, "Silence!"
The disorderly formation immediately fell silent. Every recruit stood with chest out and head raised, not daring to step out of line.
Zephyr had also walked to the front of the formation. Looking at the spirited recruits before him, he frowned faintly. Although most recruits who came to train at Marine Headquarters were children of Marine personnel and had received solid foundations from an early age, the recruits of the past few years were far inferior to previous classes in both strength and temperament. He saw it all, and it worried him greatly.
But now was not the time to voice his dissatisfaction. He had come to the Recruit Camp today only to see that promising seedling and, incidentally, announce that matter.
"I came today to inform you all of something. Some of you may already know. That's right! The annual Elite Assessment of the Recruit Camp is about to begin!"
A wave of commotion swept through the crowd!
Although they had suspected it, everyone was still incredibly excited when they heard Zephyr officially announce the news. It was the Elite Camp! Once they graduated, the lowest rank they could receive was commissioned officer!
They were recruits from Marine Headquarters, but if they lacked strength, it was still possible for them to graduate as Seamen First Class. A soldier who did not want to become a general was not a good soldier. As Marines and members of the military, who did not want to climb higher? Joining the Elite Camp was a shortcut that could save them years, even over a decade, of effort.
"Silence! If anyone speaks again, the whole squad will run one hundred laps around the training ground!" The rear admiral instructor stepped out once more to maintain order. This time, he even brought out the military's special punishment method: collective punishment!
At that, even if someone could not keep their mouth shut, the people around them would immediately "help" them shut it.
Zephyr watched this expressionlessly. Only after the formation quieted down again did he continue, "But don't celebrate too soon! The Elite Assessment has another name: the Combat Assessment! That is to say, you will face real enemies and survive life-and-death combat. Only the best among you can enter the Elite Camp. Do you understand?"
"Yes!" Their response was weak and listless. It seemed many recruits had been frightened by Zephyr's use of the word "survive." Seeing this, Zephyr impatiently frowned and shouted again, "Didn't you eat breakfast? I asked whether you understood!"
"We understand!"
This time, their voices were much more unified and resounding. No matter what they thought inside, they could not anger Zephyr now, or they would suffer for it later.
Having trained countless recruits, how could Zephyr fail to see what these fellows were thinking? But he did not explain. He merely nodded and turned to leave. He did not go far, however, instead sitting on the second floor behind the opposite wall and watching the recruits train through the glass windows.
Was the Combat Assessment truly so terrifying that they had to talk about survival rates?
Of course not.
Although the Marines were a combat force that needed to fight pirates to the death, they were not some brutal underground arena that only sought elites one in a hundred or one in a thousand. How could they possibly allow recruits to die in large numbers?
For their first Combat Assessment, recruits were generally sent to an island where the Marines raised ferocious beasts and tasked with hunting them. Their performance determined their ranking. Moreover, Surveillance Den Den Mushi covered the island, and at least one admiral accompanied the instructors, so their safety was assured.
The purpose was to let the recruits see blood. Only after truly seeing blood could they transform from decorative fighters who only knew how to bury themselves in training into soldiers capable of fighting pirates with real blades and guns.
By then, it would no longer be called a Combat Assessment. The word "assessment" would be removed.
But there was no need to tell the recruits all this. Once they knew they were protected and lost their fear of death, how could they become soldiers capable of standing on their own? Flowers raised in greenhouses could not withstand wind and rain, and soldiers who did not understand death could not uphold the name of the Marines.
Marine Headquarters was not a retirement home.
After Zephyr left, training immediately began. First, everyone had to run one hundred and fifty laps around the training ground. This was a daily routine for all seven squads of the Recruit Camp.
The Recruit Training Camp's training ground was enormous. One lap alone measured a full two kilometers. After all, it accommodated recruits from seven squads. If it were not large enough, were several hundred people supposed to train in batches?
Loa's seventh squad was the last squad, and only the last squad ever had incomplete ranks when lining up. But this last position was not determined by strength. They had simply been grouped according to the order in which they joined.
Thanks to nine years of compulsory education, Loa had mastered the art of long-distance running. Rather than relying on his strong physique to charge ahead, he maintained a rhythm of inhaling every three steps and exhaling every three steps, neither too fast nor too slow, staying in the middle of the pack.
Over the first several dozen laps, people behind him gradually overtook him, but he remained unmoved. As long as he was not last, it was fine. When they reached the critical point of one hundred laps, some recruits began falling behind, and he gradually passed them again.
Over the final fifty laps, Loa maintained a steady pace, passing one recruit after another until he reached the front of the pack. By then, not many people could still keep up the lead. There were only two or three.
"Not bad stamina!" Loa looked at the few beside him in admiration. After running for so long, aside from their heavy breathing, their bodies made no unnecessary movements. Every step they took was firm and steady.
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