Independence

"Teacher, I told you my answer a long time ago."

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

Zephyr's memories drifted back three years. He stared intently at Gern, trying to find a trace of the boy he had known in his eyes.

"So this is your answer?" Zephyr asked, his voice low. "Slaughter?"

"No." Gern shook his head. "I'm still searching."

With that, Gern stepped forward and passed Zephyr, standing beneath the moonlight with his back straight.

"Besides, Teacher, when pirates murder civilians, don't those civilians beg for mercy?" Gern's voice was soft, but every word struck like a hammer.

"Every pirate you spare could take ten, a hundred innocent lives in the future."

Zephyr fell silent.

"I don't believe in repentance or rehabilitation." Gern looked up at the night sky. "I only believe... a dead villain will never do evil again."

Those words were like a sharp dagger, piercing the "Non-Killing Justice" Zephyr had upheld for so many years.

"You've changed, Gern." After a long silence, Zephyr finally spoke, an almost imperceptible weariness in his voice.

"You used to have passion in your eyes, and uncertainty, but at least... there was still warmth."

Gern did not argue. He merely smiled. "People change, Teacher."

The night wind grew colder. Their shadows stretched across the ground, yet never met.

"Sengoku has arranged for you to carry out missions independently," Zephyr said, his voice returning to its usual steadiness as he handed Gern the mission dossier.

"Here. 'Island-Splitter' Doger, a pirate with a bounty of 360 million."

"Understood." Gern nodded.

"I won't interfere with this mission." Zephyr turned, his cape rustling in the wind. "But Gern, remember..."

He stopped and glanced back at his most accomplished student, his eyes filled with conflicting emotions.

"Slaughter may solve an immediate problem, but it can never bring true justice.

"So... tell me! That isn't your justice, is it?! Gern!"

"I'm still searching..." Before Gern could finish, Zephyr tossed him a bottle of liquor in dark green glass.

"Teacher Zephyr..." Gern frowned at the bottle in his hand.

"Don't lose yourself while searching for justice and end up on the wrong path!

"Your justice isn't 'that.' If you go down the wrong road... I'll knock some sense into you myself!"

Gern watched Zephyr's retreating back until that glimpse of purple vanished completely into the night.

"Heh, you're the one who's always saying things like...

"'Isn't it cool when a man stays true to his convictions throughout his life?'"

Muttering to himself, Gern opened the bottle Zephyr had given him and began drinking. His fingers unconsciously brushed the Black Blade: Eight Desolations at his waist. A faint tremor ran through its sheath, as though responding to his thoughts.

"Even if it isn't my justice, at least it can protect the people I want to protect."

A flicker of resolve flashed in Gern's eyes beneath the moonlight.

As for his own "justice"... perhaps the true "answer" waited at the end of this road.

Three days later, at Marineford's naval harbor.

The morning mist had yet to clear, and the rising sun bathed the harbor in a pale golden glow.

The sea breeze swept across the docks, carrying a damp, salty tang and stirring the masts of the moored warships with faint creaks.

Gern stood on a warship's deck, wearing the Navy's standard white justice cape.

Beneath it, however, he wore a fitted, entirely black outfit, with dark red patterns embroidered along the collar and cuffs-a stark contrast to the ordinary sailors' blue-and-white uniforms.

His cape snapped in the wind, revealing the Black Blade: Eight Desolations at his waist, wrapped in layer upon layer of bandages (now that he had grown taller, he finally no longer needed to carry it on his back).

Over the past two years, he had grown to nearly two meters tall. Broad-shouldered and long-legged, his muscles looked lean and explosive beneath his combat outfit.

His short black hair stood out in the morning light. His face had sharply defined features and a firm jawline, yet a faint smile always seemed to linger at the corners of his mouth.

The sailors on deck stole glances at Gern, their whispers rising one after another.

"That's Captain Gern, the one who's as famous as those three monsters? He looks even younger than the rumors said..."

"Shh! Keep your voice down! I heard he never leaves anyone alive on his missions. Even pirates who surrender get their heads cut off!"

"But why is his sword wrapped in bandages? Could it be some kind of seal?"

Gern paid no attention to their chatter, simply lowering his head to study the mission briefing in his hand.

"Island-Splitter" Doger, bounty: 360 million. Born in the South Blue. User of the Paramecia-type Split-Split Fruit.

Upon touching nonliving objects (such as weapons, buildings, or the ground), he could instantly split them into multiple fragments or smaller units.

"He can only split nonliving things... is it an inferior version of the Chop-Chop Fruit?

"Heh, interesting..." Gern murmured, his fingertips unconsciously stroking his sword's hilt.

"Captain Gern!" Just then, a messenger hurried over and saluted.

"The Science Unit just delivered a shipment of new weapons and equipment. They said Admiral Sengoku had it prepared especially for you."

Gern did not look up. "Dump it in storage."

"B-but..." The messenger hesitated.

"Is there a problem?" Gern raised his eyes.

The messenger instantly froze, like prey caught in a predator's gaze. Cold sweat trickled down his forehead.

"N-no! I'll take care of it right away!"

Only after the messenger fled did Gern turn his gaze toward the fortress in the distance across the harbor.

A purple figure was faintly visible at the highest window-Zephyr stood there, his sunglasses reflecting the morning light and obscuring his expression.

The corners of Gern's mouth lifted slightly. He raised his hand in a crisp, regulation salute.

"Idiot." Zephyr sighed.

The warship slowly pulled away from the harbor. Gern stood at its bow, the Black Blade: Eight Desolations trembling faintly in the morning light.

"Island-Splitter Doger..." Gern murmured the name, a flicker of exhilaration at his newfound freedom flashing in his eyes.

"Finally, I don't have to worry about everything around me. I can carry out my missions freely."

Before his words had faded, he spun around, his cape cutting a sharp arc through the air.

"Weigh anchor! Set course for the waters around the G-2 base in the New World!"

In the distance, Zephyr watched the warship gradually disappear over the horizon, his fists tightening without him realizing it.

"Gern, don't let me down..."