At the same time —West Blue, Marine Branch 133 training grounds.
Gern Reginald Sigmar stood at the center of the field, the black blade Bahuang secured across his back. More than thirty recruits sat in a wide semicircle around him.
Sweat streamed down their youthful faces, yet not a single one dared lift a hand to wipe it away.
Every pair of eyes was locked onto the figure standing at the center of the field.
"Watch closely."Gern slowly raised his right hand, palm facing upward.
The air distorted.
Countless microscopic vibration particles shimmered into existence, gathering in his palm like fragments of light, condensing into a pure white sphere.
The recruits unconsciously held their breath. Some even leaned back without realizing it.
"The essence of vibration is—"
The sphere suddenly collapsed inward.
In the next instant, the ground rippled outward like waves on the ocean's surface. Training posts shattered silently into powder.
What was terrifying was that the splinters stopped midair just before reaching the recruits' faces—suspended as if held by invisible hands.
"Control."
As Gern drew his fist back, the suspended debris fell neatly to the ground.
Silence followed.
Three seconds later, the training field erupted into thunderous cheers.
"That's insane!!"
"So this is the power of a Logia?!"
"Officer Gern, please take me as your disciple!"
The corner of Gern's mouth lifted slightly. He was about to respond when, from the corner of his vision, he spotted a figure frantically waving from the shadows at the edge of the field.
Branch Chief Asahi was flailing his short, round arms like a beached seal.
"Continue training," Gern said, gesturing calmly before turning away.
The moment he stepped into the shade, Asahi rushed over, nearly crashing straight into him.
"G-Gern! It worked! It really worked!"His voice was hushed, trembling with excitement.
"The order came directly from Fleet Admiral Kong himself!"He pulled out a gold-stamped document, his hands visibly shaking."Look! Look at this!"
Marine Headquarters Special Conscription OrderSubject: Gern Reginald SigmarRank Confirmation: Ensign, Marine HeadquartersDirect Superior: Vice Admiral Zephyr
Gern's pupils contracted slightly. The crimson seal of the Fleet Admiral at the bottom looked like a drop of dried blood.
"So… it went through," he murmured.
Asahi immediately snapped to attention, forcing a serious expression."Ensign Gern of Marine Headquarters! Reporting! I am Asahi, Branch Chief of West Blue Base 133!"
"Haha… you idiot."Gern chuckled and patted his shoulder.
Then he asked calmly, "So my rank didn't change?"
"Nope. But that's because those guys at HQ look down on the West Blue," Asahi grumbled."They said anyone born here must have a 'flawed sense of justice' and wanted to send you to Marine School for a year to study moral theory."
"Marine School…?" Gern's pupils shrank slightly.
"That was the plan—until Vice Admiral Zephyr slammed his hand on the table and said—"Asahi lowered his voice dramatically, mimicking Zephyr's deep tone:
"That bureaucratic nonsense only suffocates real warriors!"
Gern raised an eyebrow. "He actually said that?"
"Swear on my life!" Asahi nodded vigorously."My buddy from the South Blue heard it himself! You're even being assigned directly under Vice Admiral Zephyr!"
Then, suddenly curious, Asahi leaned closer."Hey… when did you even get close to Vice Admiral Zephyr anyway? Don't tell me—are you his illegitimate son or something?!"
"Illegitimate son?"Gern scoffed, fingers brushing over the wrappings of his black blade."I wish."
Asahi laughed awkwardly and stepped back before snapping to attention again.
"Either way—congratulations on your promotion to Marine Headquarters Ensign!"
His voice suddenly shot up several octaves, causing nearby recruits to turn their heads.
"The West Blue finally has someone heading for the top!"
Gern didn't return the salute.
His gaze passed over Asahi's round shoulder, toward the distant outline of Marineford.
Three Days Later — West Blue, Branch 133 Harbor
A sea breeze carried the scent of salt as soldiers filled the docks to see him off.
Branch Chief Asahi stood at the very front, his chubby face soaked with tears, clutching a wrinkled handkerchief as he sniffled loudly.
"Gern! You have to come back and visit the West Blue!" he shouted, voice cracking."This will always be your home! Show them what men from the West Blue are made of!!!"
Gern stood on the deck of the warship, his back to the harbor, Bahhuang still secured behind him.
He didn't turn around.
He simply raised a hand slightly in farewell.
The ship began to move, slowly pulling away from the dock. The cheers faded into the distance.
Gern stared toward the far horizon, feeling no sorrow—only anticipation.
"Marine Headquarters…" he murmured."This is where it really begins."
Two Days Later — Somewhere in the West Blue
The warship cut steadily through the deep blue sea.
Gern stood at the bow, eyes closed, letting the wind wash over him.
Suddenly, his brow furrowed.
Something felt wrong.
He opened his eyes sharply and looked toward the horizon.
A lone ship was approaching.
It wasn't large, but its structure was rugged and solid. Its bow was plain, unadorned.
Most notably—
It flew no flag.
Not a pirate flag.Not a merchant banner.Not a Marine insignia.
The escorting officer—a Marine HQ lieutenant—had been following an exclusive naval route. The anomaly was detected immediately.
"Report!" a marine shouted as he rushed over."An unidentified vessel ahead! Requesting permission to intercept!"
The lieutenant didn't answer right away.
Both he and Gern stared through binoculars at the approaching ship.
Two figures stood at its bow.
One was enormous—easily over five meters tall—his muscles packed like living stone. A long white captain's coat hung open over his massive frame, scars crisscrossing his chest.
Long golden hair fell freely down his back, and beneath it, a crescent-shaped white mustache curved proudly across his face.
His expression was calm… almost lazy.
Beside him stood a tall, lean young man with spiky blond hair shaped like a pineapple, his eyes sharp and alert.
Gern's pupils shrank violently.
Even without a flag.Even without a name.
He recognized that man instantly.
Young.At his peak.A presence that screamed invincibility.
The man who stood shoulder to shoulder with Roger after the fall of Rocks.
—
"Whitebeard."Edward Newgate.