"Alert! Alert! Prepare for combat!"
A rifleman outside the base shouted sharply.
In an instant, more than a dozen guards snapped into formation, rifles raised, fingers on triggers, eyes locked onto the two rolling pillars of white dust charging toward them.
A deafening roar shook the air.
The ground trembled faintly, as if an earthquake were passing beneath their feet.
The next moment, a violent gale slammed into them head-on, carrying massive clouds of white dust.
The soldiers staggered, squinting against the wind. Their uniforms flapped wildly—one man's cap was blown clean off.
When the dust finally settled and their vision cleared—
They froze.
Standing calmly before them was a white-haired young man, smiling casually.
Behind him stood their Chief of Staff—Sabo.
The moment they recognized Sabo, every rifle lowered at once.
The soldiers snapped to attention, faces filled with instinctive respect.
"Sorry about that," Logan said apologetically.
"Did we disturb you?"
Truthfully, he had pushed his speed to the absolute limit on the way here.
And yet—what truly surprised him was that Sabo had kept up.
Logan had a system backing him.
So how exactly had Dragon trained Sabo to reach this level?
Sabo glanced at the soldiers' puzzled expressions and waved a hand weakly.
"It's fine, it's fine… he's my big brother. One of us."
Then he collapsed backward onto the ground, limbs spread out like a starfish.
His clothes were soaked through with sweat. His chest rose and fell violently, every breath labored.
"Y-you… you're a monster," he gasped.
"I never imagined… that running could nearly kill me."
Logan chuckled.
You brought this on yourself.
Trying to race someone with a system.
Still, he said gently, "Relax. You're already far stronger than I expected—much stronger than Luffy."
"I saw him recently. He's not even close to you yet."
"But," Logan added, "his life is… lively. He's found good companions. And he's already a pirate with a 60 million Beli bounty."
Sabo stared up at the sky, forcing a smile uglier than crying.
"You really shouldn't have tried to comfort me."
Seeing that Sabo wouldn't be getting up anytime soon, Logan found a raised rock and sat down, surveying the surroundings.
White.
Nothing but white.
No greenery. No flowers. No grass.
Even the lone tree in sight was bare—and white as well.
Logan's first impression was simple.
Desolate.
After resting for a while, Sabo's breathing finally steadied.
He turned his head toward Logan.
"It looks like the gap between us… is bigger than I thought."
"Then I'll count that as my win," Logan said lightly.
Sabo shook his head seriously.
"No. Even if I know I can't beat you, I won't be satisfied unless we fight at least once."
"Then we'll do it in a few days," Logan replied.
"I'm not leaving right away this time."
Sabo suddenly sat upright, eyes bright with hope.
"Big brother—are you here to join the Revolutionary Army?"
Logan smiled and shook his head.
"I just missed you. Wanted to see you with my own eyes."
Sabo sprang to his feet in one fluid motion, laughter booming.
"Then let's drink!"
"Today, I'll drink you under the table!"
"If I can't beat you in a fight, I'll beat you with alcohol!"
He threw an arm around Logan's shoulders and dragged him toward the base.
Behind them, the soldiers exchanged looks—then smiled.
Their Chief of Staff was usually solemn, burdened by responsibility.
Even after victories, he never laughed like this.
Then a familiar figure came sprinting over—soaked in sweat.
It was Koala, the Fish-Man Karate instructor.
The soldiers immediately saluted.
Panting, cheeks flushed, Koala bent over and asked,
"Where did they go? Sabo—where is he?"
"They just went inside," a soldier replied.
Koala muttered under her breath, then remembered Logan's handsome face. Her ears burned red.
"Absolutely inhuman… but I like him."
The news spread quickly through the Revolutionary Army.
Sabo's big brother had arrived.
And he was apparently ridiculously handsome.
Before long, young women from the base began sneaking toward the back hill, stealing glances from afar—only to flee back blushing.
Naturally, that provoked the muscle-brained men.
How handsome could one man be?
Can he compete with this much muscle?
They climbed the hill one after another, intent on proving something.
They all returned in silence.
Later that night, every one of them could be found staring at mirrors.
On the hill behind the base, the summit was low but eerily flat—as if it had once been cleaved clean by a giant sword.
Logan and Sabo sat there, faces flushed.
Empty bottles littered the ground around them.
Between them lay simple dishes—beef, peanuts—nothing fancy.
Even Logan, who could usually hold his liquor, felt his head spinning slightly.
He noticed Sabo's cup was empty again and refilled it.
"This rum's decent," Logan said.
"But in the end… it's still a bit mild."
Sabo frowned.
"These were specially brewed for me by master distillers. Most people can't even drink this."
"There's nothing stronger than this."
Logan drained his cup in one gulp.
"There is," he sighed.
"But I'll never taste it again."
They drank and talked, drifting lazily between laughter and memories.
Before they realized it, the sky had darkened.
Crimson clouds stretched across the horizon.
"Sabo," Logan said suddenly, eyes hazy.
"If one day Ace is captured by the Marines… and scheduled for execution at Marineford—what would you do?"
It was unclear whether he was drunk—or dreaming.
Sabo's eyes snapped open.
His expression hardened instantly.
"Of course I'd go," he said coldly.
"I'd tear them apart."
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