Marineford's grandeur far exceeded anything Gern had imagined.
The Marine Headquarters fortress towered into the sky, majestic and overwhelming. Not only was its front imposing beyond belief—even the residential area behind it, where the marines lived, was bustling with life. Shops lined the streets, facilities were complete, and the scale alone rivaled the capital of any kingdom in the pirate world.
"This is… an unexpected bonus," Gern murmured, standing before a private courtyard residence. His fingers brushed lightly across the doorframe.
By rank alone, a mere Ensign like him shouldn't have been entitled to accommodations like this.
"Looks like Instructor Zephyr's reputation as the future Admiral is even more effective than I thought."
After quickly unpacking his belongings, Gern fell backward onto the soft bed, staring up at the pristine white ceiling.
"Marine Headquarters…"
His thoughts replayed every detail of his conversation with Zephyr over and over again—especially the moment those words echoed in his ears:
'I'll personally train you into a Marine Admiral.'
Gern suddenly sprang upright, his legs kicking excitedly over the edge of the bed.
"I did it!"
His fists clenched instinctively, excitement surging through him until he almost forgot to breathe.
After all, how many sleepless nights of careful planning had led him to this moment? Step by step, calculation after calculation—this was exactly what he'd been aiming for.
When the excitement finally ebbed like a retreating tide, his gaze drifted toward the black blade resting against the bedframe.
Moonlight filtered through the window, casting a pale glow over the weapon. Wrapped in white cloth, the blade revealed nothing unusual at first glance.
"It's still too early to relax."
Gern reached out and grasped his beloved sword, striding into the small courtyard behind the house.
With a clear clang, the Black Blade Eight Desolations was unsheathed. The jet-black blade flashed through the night, carving a streak of cold light through the air.
As his fingertips brushed along the blade's patterns, he could almost feel it trembling in response.
"Rocks' personal weapon… one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades…"
Gern murmured under his breath.
If he followed the traditional path of a swordsman, this weapon alone could save him decades of struggle.
But… he knew his own limits better than anyone.
Even someone like Zoro would need to endure hellish training to reach the peak—so what about someone like him, who'd picked up the sword halfway through the journey?
And yet—
Gern suddenly grinned. His wrist flicked, and the blade sang as it wove a silver web through moonlight and vibrating particles.
"Who says using a sword means you have to be a swordsman?"
If he combined supreme physical technique, Devil Fruit power, and his own custom sword style—moves like Heavenquake: Sky Rend—weren't they just as devastating?
"Top-tier Haki… a supreme weapon… and a powerful Devil Fruit…"
He assumed a stance, the blade pointing straight toward the heavens.
"Fuse all three together, and even without being a swordsman…"
The night wind surged, sweeping fallen leaves into the air.
In the next instant, his blade descended like a waterfall of light, cleaving through the air—and through the moonlight itself.
"I'll still cut down everything in this sea!"
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the blinds of Zephyr's office at Marineford.
When Gern pushed the door open, he found the room empty.
His eyes swept across the interior before stopping on a newly added desk in the corner.
It was clearly prepared for him.
"…Huh."
He raised an eyebrow, mildly surprised.
He knew he had been assigned as Zephyr's adjutant—but he hadn't expected to be placed directly inside Zephyr's own office.
Normally, an adjutant would work in a separate room, or at least next door.
"So he really plans to keep a close eye on me, huh…"
Gern smirked faintly. He didn't mind.
He wasn't the type to stubbornly insist on climbing the ranks entirely on his own. If there was a shortcut, he'd take it—especially when it led straight to the upper echelons of the Marines.
Besides, direct access to the Navy's highest levels would only benefit his long-term plans.
Gern didn't care much—but the marine who escorted him clearly did.
Standing at the doorway, the soldier's eyes were filled with envy.
"Ensign Gern, all your documents have been transferred. If you need anything, you can contact Logistics directly."
"Mm. Thanks for the trouble."
The soldier hesitated, then lowered his voice.
"Vice Admiral Zephyr… really values you. You're the first person ever allowed to work inside his office."
Gern smiled faintly but said nothing.
The soldier saluted and left, leaving Gern alone in the office.
He took a seat at his desk and casually flipped through the prepared documents—recruit assessment reports, intelligence on recent pirate movements along the Grand Line…
Most of it, however, concerned preliminary plans for an elite training camp—apparently meant to gather the most exceptional graduates from the Marine Academy.
Gern spotted several familiar names on the list.
Even the future three Admirals were among them.
"Looks like I'll be busy," he muttered, stretching lazily as his gaze drifted toward Zephyr's desk.
It was impeccably organized. Files neatly categorized. At the center lay an open manual—an advanced Rokushiki training guide for new Marine recruits. Beside it sat a cup of tea, long since gone cold.
"Zephyr really is a workaholic… already preparing the next generation before even becoming an Admiral."
After a moment of idle observation, Gern turned back to organizing his own things.
But before he could fully settle in, a knock sounded at the door.
"Come in."
The door opened, and a tall young Marine stepped inside.
He had shoulder-length black hair, sharp features, and a stern, blade-like gaze. Wearing the uniform of a Marine Captain, he carried himself with a quiet, restrained presence.
Monkey D. Dragon.(At this point, still called Dragon—he would only take the name Dragon after founding the Revolutionary Army.)
Gern's eyes narrowed slightly.
"So I get to meet him this soon…"
Though they'd never met before, his identity was impossible to miss—Garp's son, and the man who would one day become the world's most wanted criminal. For now, however, he was merely a Marine captain serving under his father.
Dragon swept his gaze around the office. After confirming Zephyr wasn't there, his eyes settled on Gern.
"Vice Admiral Zephyr isn't here?"
"He stepped out for a bit," Gern replied calmly. "Need something?"
Dragon paused briefly before speaking."I'm here to submit the patrol report from G-5."
He walked to Zephyr's desk, placed the file down, then turned his gaze back toward Gern.
"You're Gern Reginald Sigmar?"
"Just call me Gern," he said casually, leaning back in his chair with a slight grin. "Word travels fast, huh?"
Dragon didn't smile. "My father mentioned you."
"Vice Admiral Garp?" Gern said with mock surprise. "I'm honored."
With no eyebrows, Dragon's face naturally looked fierce—especially now, as his gaze carried a hint of scrutiny.
Being stared at like that made even Gern uncomfortable, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind:
"Just so you know, I'm not into men."
"…?"
They spoke almost simultaneously—but Gern's words were clearly the more shocking.
Dragon froze.
"…I'm not either, okay?!"