A week later, at the G-33 Marine Base in the Sabaody Archipelago.
Sunlight filtered through the mangrove branches and leaves onto the base's plaza, and a faint scent of resin filled the air.
The small warship White Gull lay quietly in the harbor while several Marines busied themselves with the final supply checks.
Gern stood on the deck with Black Blade: Eight Desolations hanging at an angle from his waist, its grayish-white bandages fluttering in the breeze.
His gaze was deep as he looked out over the distant, shimmering sea, the corners of his mouth slightly raised.
From his stance to his smile, everything about him fit the image of a "Navy Legend."
"Vice Admiral Gern, the supplies are loaded. We can leave at any time." A Marine hurried over and saluted, reporting with admiration in his eyes.
"Thanks for your hard work." Gern nodded, his gaze sweeping over the base's walls.
He noticed quite a few Marines stealing glances at him, their eyes filled with awe and admiration.
"Behave, damn mouth. No smiling." At the sight, Gern could barely hold back the corners of his mouth as they kept curling upward.
There was no denying that Gern was incredibly famous now. The mere news of "Heavenquake's" arrival had plunged the normally bustling Sabaody into a brief period of peace.
Not only had the pirates vanished without a trace, but even the usually arrogant and overbearing Celestial Dragons had restrained themselves considerably.
After all, no one wanted to cause trouble in front of the Navy Legend who had arrested the "Pirate King."
"Vice Admiral Gern!" A deep voice came from behind him.
Gern turned to see a tall man covered in spotted dog fur striding toward him.
It was Dalmatian, the newly appointed commander of the G-33 base and a