Zephyr did not back down because of this. After receiving treatment from the military doctors at headquarters, he dragged his sick body back to work, wanting to see this class of the Marine Elite Training Camp through to the end.
If things went smoothly, he even wanted to lead the next class. To his relief, this class truly had two promising recruits with decent strength.
Zephyr rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a cigar. He clipped it, lit it, and warmed it up. As the incomparably familiar flavor spread through his mouth, he felt immensely at ease.
He did not inhale it into his lungs and promptly exhaled it. Though he knew this was partly the cause of his illness, he simply could not quit.
Even in the original story, he had still been smoking when his illness was terminal. For Zephyr, only this could keep his mind clear. At most, he just avoided inhaling.
Marines smoked and pirates drank. That was simply the norm in this world.
He placed the cigar in the ashtray, then took the personal files of this class of Marine trainees from the stack of documents in his desk. Zephyr slowly read through the paper records, his gaze passing over one trainee after another.
The trainees recorded in these files were all among the more outstanding performers in this session of the elite training camp.
For some unknown reason, despite the Marine Elite Training Camp having operated for so many years, the overall quality of its trainees had not improved much. Instead, it had steadily declined.
Twenty-three years ago, the first elite training camp had opened. Sakazuki and Kizaru, who now served as Marine Admirals, had both been outstanding graduates of that class.
Twenty-one years ago, in the third elite training camp, Kuzan graduated