Three days later — West Blue, Marine Branch 133.
Inside the branch commander's office, Chaori was rubbing his hands together excitedly, the fat on his face bunching up as his grin stretched wide.
"Hahaha!!"
He slapped a newspaper down on the desk, practically glowing with excitement. Printed boldly across the front page was a photo of Gern standing amid the ruins of Ashen Port, his back turned to the camera.
"RISING STAR OF THE WEST BLUE!Marine 'Heavenquake' GERN SOLO KILLS 70-MILLION-BOUNTY PIRATE!"
"Gern! Did you see this?!" Chaori slammed the desk again, sending tea sloshing out of the cup. His own interview photo sat right beside the headline."The entire West Blue is talking about you now! I guarantee Marineford has already taken notice!"
Gern leaned casually against the window, his gaze drifting over the newspaper.
Outside, on the training grounds below, recruits were drilling like mad. Every now and then, their eyes flicked toward him—filled with admiration, reverence, even worship.
Over the past year, since obtaining his Devil Fruit, Gern's training had been no different from theirs. That was why his growth had been limited.
If not for the sheer destructive power of his ability…He would've died at Ashen Port.
"Gern?"
"It was just a pirate," Gern said calmly, snapping back to the present.
"Just a pirate?!" Chaori stared at him. "That was Blood Spear Loget! A seventy-million-berri criminal who came back alive from the Grand Line! Do you have any idea what that means?! Achievements like that could get you promoted even at Headquarters!"
Gern didn't answer. He lowered his gaze to his palm.
The faint white glow of vibrating particles shimmered beneath his skin, obedient to his will.
He had won—but the battle exposed a fatal flaw.
Loget's Armament Haki, crude as it was, had still been able to hurt him.
If he ever faced a true monster—an Admiral, a New World devil, or a pirate with a bounty over a hundred million—
His Logia advantage wouldn't be absolute anymore.
"Gern?"Seeing his silence, Chaori leaned closer and lowered his voice."Don't worry. I've already submitted your promotion request. With your reputation and achievements, Headquarters won't dare reject it."
"…Mm."Gern nodded faintly, eyes still fixed on the window.
"Oh, right!" Chaori suddenly clapped his hands. "I've already contacted the West Blue Daily. Their reporters will be here tomorrow. Perfect chance to build momentum!"
"An interview?" Gern frowned.
"Of course!" Chaori rubbed his hands together, eyes gleaming. "You're a hero now! The people need a symbol. The Marines need one too—especially after what you said…"
He cleared his throat and mimicked Gern's tone, deep and steady:
"Justice that arrives late… isn't justice at all."
"Damn, that line was perfect!" Chaori laughed."The civilians are spreading it everywhere! They're calling you the true hero of the West Blue!"
Gern fell silent for a moment.
Then he let out a quiet, cold laugh.
"They're wrong."
"Huh?" Chaori blinked.
"I didn't kill Loget for justice."Gern's voice was calm—but sharp as a blade."I killed him because I needed his head… as my ticket to promotion."
Chaori froze.
The office fell silent.
After a few seconds, he let out an awkward laugh and waved his hand."H-Hey, don't say stuff like that out loud! End result's the same, right? You killed a pirate and protected civilians—that's what matters!"
Gern didn't respond.
He knew Chaori wouldn't understand.
In the rotten West Blue, justice had long since become nothing more than a slogan.The difference between Marines and pirates was sometimes nothing more than a uniform.
But that didn't matter.
He never intended to be a "hero" here anyway.
"Oh—right!" Chaori suddenly lowered his voice and pulled a document from his drawer."Take a look at this."
Gern accepted it and glanced down. His pupils tightened slightly.
Marine Headquarters — Special Recruitment Order
"This is…?"
"Shh!" Chaori quickly gestured for silence, checking the door. "This was personally signed by Admiral Zephyr!"
"Zephyr…"Gern's breath hitched.
"That's right!" Chaori nodded excitedly. "It's not official yet, but word's already spreading internally. Zephyr's taken an interest in you!"
Gern's fingers tightened around the paper. His heartbeat quickened.
At last…This was the moment he'd been waiting for.
If he could receive guidance from him…
"But…" Chaori sighed, his expression darkening. "There's bad news too."
"Say it."
"The World Government has… concerns about your Devil Fruit."He lowered his voice."They say it's suspiciously similar to Whitebeard's Gura Gura no Mi."
Gern smiled faintly.
He'd expected this.
A Logia-type with vibration-based destruction was bound to draw attention—especially with similarities to the world's strongest man.
But he knew the truth.
His power wasn't some divine reward from the Celestial Dragons.And Logia and Paramecia were worlds apart—Devil Fruits had hierarchies.
"Yeah, yeah," Chaori muttered. "The World Government just has too much time on its hands."
Then he straightened."But listen—Zephyr has his eye on you now. And if my intel's right, he's the most likely to become the next Marine Admiral. He's only thirty-eight."
He leaned forward, serious."But attention alone isn't enough."
Gern chuckled softly. "So?"
"So we make noise!" Chaori slapped his thigh."The West Blue hasn't produced a Marine star in years! You're our pride! We need momentum!"
He reached up and patted Gern's shoulder.
"I believe in your strength. So I'm going to brag about you as much as I can."
Gern smiled faintly.
Reputation… influence… momentum.These were exactly what he needed to climb the Marine hierarchy.
"Chaori," Gern said after a moment, rising to his feet with the Black Blade Eight Desolations in hand."I'll attend the interview tomorrow."
"What? Really?!" Chaori beamed. "Don't worry, I've arranged everything—only soft questions, nothing risky—"
"No."Gern cut him off, a dangerous curve forming at his lips."Let them ask."
"…What?"
"Especially about my Devil Fruit."His voice was calm, absolute."The sharper the questions, the better."
Chaori stared at him, stunned.
Gern turned toward the door. His hand rested on the handle as he glanced back once more.
"If we're going to make waves…""…then let the storm be violent."
He stepped out.
He would make the world remember his name.
Gern Reginald Sigmar.