Chapter 34: Departure
Early the next morning, the thirty members of the elite class stood assembled on the main dock. Their assigned vessel, a modest but well-armed warship, waited beside them. There was no sign of Zephyr.
"It seems Instructor Zephyr really isn't coming," one cadet murmured, scanning the empty pier.
"It's the rule," another replied, his voice tight. "The elite class graduates in fire. The teachers don't hold our hands."
For ordinary class assessments, instructors accompanied their students. For the elite, it was a baptism of pure, unaided combat. If Zephyr were here, the mission would be a formality—few pirates could stand against a former Admiral.
"Let's move out," Chris said, taking charge as the de facto leader. "According to the intelligence, the Evil Skull Pirates will reach Sabaody Archipelago by tomorrow at the latest. We'll get there first and set an ambush."
"Aye!"
The class operated like a well-oiled machine, a testament to two years of intense training. They had defined roles: navigators, helmsmen, lookouts, gunners. They moved with a purpose born of discipline, though the underlying tension was palpable.
Satoru stood near the bow, his Six Eyes casually scanning the horizon. He could sense a familiar, powerful presence observing them from the highest observation tower of Marineford. Zephyr was watching.
In that very tower, Fleet Admiral Sengoku stood beside the silent Zephyr, both looking out at the departing ship.
"Isn't it excessively cruel?" Sengoku asked, his voice low. "Assigning the Evil Skull Pirates to mere cadets? Their captain is worth 320 million. That's Vice Admiral-level prey."
"If it were just them," Zephyr answered, his gaze never leaving the shrinking ship, "you'd be right. It would be a slaughter. But Satoru is with them. The equation changes."
"That boy..." Sengoku murmured, picturing the child with the impossible eyes. "Has he grown that formidable in just two years?"
"His power defies normal growth curves," Zephyr stated. "Against any foe lacking advanced Armament or Conqueror's Haki, he is practically untouchable. Even a pirate with a bounty over a billion would struggle to harm him."
Sengoku felt a jolt run through him. A billion? That was the realm of Emperors and their top commanders, opponents that required an Admiral's full attention. For Zephyr to say it so matter-of-factly...
Seeing Sengoku's stunned expression, Zephyr continued. "I am not exaggerating. His defensive ability is absolute against conventional force. His offensive power grows daily. In a straight fight, within a year, I suspect even I will no longer be his match."
The admission was staggering. Sengoku processed it, and the initial shock slowly melted into a deep, fierce joy. This was the future. With Satoru's trajectory, they could soon field a fourth Admiral. The balance of power in the New World could genuinely shift.
"Garp..." Sengoku finally said, a wry smile touching his lips. "That oaf may be the Navy's greatest blessing in disguise."
For a wild moment, he considered ordering Garp to take more extended shore leave, hoping the man would stumble upon another miracle child like Satoru. He dismissed the thought instantly. A second Satoru was a fantasy. And giving Garp more vacation time was unthinkable—the man already enjoyed more freedom than any other high-ranking officer. The thought of Garp's leisurely life compared to his own endless paperwork sent a fresh wave of bitterness through Sengoku.
He ran a hand over his meticulously dyed hair, hiding the grey. Who is the most miserable man in the Navy? he wondered. It is undoubtedly me.
He regretted ever accepting the Fleet Admiral's mantle. He should have let the previous one linger a few more years, waited for the current Admirals to fully mature, and passed the burden to one of them. But the world had no medicine for regret.
Down on the deck, Satoru felt the ship's engines rumble to life. The pier began to slide away. The towering spires of Marineford grew smaller. The open sea, vast and unpredictable, stretched before them.
Chris stood beside him, looking ahead with determined eyes. Herac checked the rigging nearby. Bosra clutched the rail, his face pale but set.
The crucible awaited. The forge of the open ocean, where theory met blood and steel, and the Navy's next generation would be tempered for real.
(End of Chapter)
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