Earlier, from the clash between Chaton and Atticus, to the fierce confrontation involving Atticus, Kizaru, and Akainu, only half an hour had passed. Yet in that brief span, everyone who once underestimated Atticus learned to fear him.
Before today, because Atticus devoted himself entirely to training and avoided socializing, many looked down on him. But after witnessing his ferocity in battle, no one dared dismiss him again — especially when he became serious. Even now, a shadow of that dread remained in everyone's hearts.
Momousagi approached him nervously, fiddling with the edge of her clothing, eyes cast low. "Tha… that… I'm sorry…" she stammered, voice trembling, as she drew near to Atticus, looking pitiful.
Atticus did not even glance at her. His expression was flat. "Don't bother me. I have no time for this," he said, then turned and walked away, determined to resume his training.
Everyone within earshot froze, their mouths twitching. Momousagi was a renowned beauty, and his tone — so cold and detached — shocked them. They exchanged uneasy glances.
Tears began to fall from her eyes despite her efforts to hold them back. She tried to stop, but the harder she fought it, the more they streamed down her face. "I'm sorry!" she cried, wiping tears away with trembling hands, then ran off sobbing, retreating into the darkness. Any stranger passing by might assume Atticus had done something terrible to her.
"Hey! Hey! Is that really okay?" came a voice behind him. Aokiji had followed after him, his face twisted with concern and a bit of anger.
"Women are trouble, and I don't have time for that right now," Atticus replied. He settled onto the ground, closed his eyes, and sat cross-legged, his expression calm and detached as though the scene behind him had never existed.
"You're heartless. Momousagi is beautiful... you know that." Aokiji sighed, patting his own backside and yawning. "You keep at your training, I suppose I'll get some sleep now."
Unbeknownst to him, by the next day rumors would be spreading among the cadets: Atticus was a cold-blooded, ruthless madman — one who cared nothing for beauty, concerned only with training. As Atticus rose to prominence, that rumor clung to him, coloring how many perceived him.
Meanwhile, under the moonlight on a flat clearing deeper in the jungle, Zephyr gazed up at the endless stars. Soon Atticus appeared, slipping quietly onto the clearing.
"You're here," Zephyr said softly.
"Master, I'm sorry," Atticus replied, a faint flush on his cheeks. "I lost track of time while training." They had agreed to meet at seven, but he was at least thirty minutes late.
Zephyr's expression softened. He had never been one to hold anger over such matters. "I expected you might be late because of training," he said quietly, clasping his hands behind his back. "You... I don't know what to say about you. Sometimes, knowing when to rest and when to push yourself leads to more balanced growth. Don't overdo it — your mind will crack before your body does."
Atticus nodded, a gentle, somewhat sheepish smile crossing his face. "I understand."
"Good," Zephyr said, stepping forward to place a firm hand on his disciple's shoulder. He brushed away some sweat from Atticus's hairline in a kindly gesture. "You got hurt earlier today, didn't you? During the fight?"
Atticus shrugged modestly. "Thank you for your concern, Master. I was injured a little, but I've recovered."
Zephyr released a deep breath of relief. "That's a relief to hear. But listen carefully — by making enemies of Chaton and Akainu, you've painted a target on your back. Especially Akainu. He's a Logia user, which means he can nullify most of your attacks. The gap between you is significant. Today he was careless, but next time may not be so easy."
Atticus's eyes darkened ever so slightly, resolve hardening his features. "I know. It surprised me that I wounded him today. But if I can defeat him once, I believe I can defeat him permanently. If I have the strength, the next time we meet, he could disappear from this world."
Facing Zephyr, Atticus did not bother to hide his thoughts. He trusted his master completely.
Zephyr's face grew stern, yet pride flickered in his eyes. "I won't stop you. You are my disciple."
Atticus's eyes shone like distant stars, filled with purpose. "Master, I will rely on your guidance going forward. I intend to cultivate both my Devil Fruit powers and Haki."
Zephyr nodded slowly. "Very well. But know this — the road ahead will be harsh. I will not go easy on you."
"I won't let you down," Atticus said, suppressing his excitement, his expression steady and determined.
"Let's begin with mastering the Six Powers. By the way, do you plan to learn them all, or focus on a select few first?"
Atticus thought for a moment. "I want to learn Soru, Shigan, and Geppo first. I'll tackle the others later."
"I see you already have a plan. You want to develop mobility techniques to complement your Devil Fruit abilities." Zephyr's eyes gleamed knowingly.
"Yes."
"Then let's start with Soru..." Zephyr said, stepping forward into a teaching stance. Time drifted by as Zephyr patiently instructed while Atticus pushed himself to the limit.
Three hours later they paused. Atticus's face was tense, showing fatigue and frustration. For Soru he could only manage five steps in one second — progress, yes, but still far from the speed of ten or more. His attempts at Shigan and Geppo yielded similar minimal gains.
"You did very well for your first night," Zephyr said softly, his voice a mixture of pride and gentle encouragement. Truly, in terms of raw talent, Atticus was only upper-middle class, far from elite. But with his iron will and stubborn persistence, Zephyr believed he would catch up — and perhaps even surpass those born with better potential.
"Now we move on to Haki training. Which Haki will you cultivate first?" Zephyr asked, studying Atticus's expression.
"Master, which would you advise I start with?" Atticus asked, concern evident in his tone.
"If you can endure it, you can train both Armament Haki and Observation Haki at the same time."
Atticus's lips twitched at the sly loophole in Zephyr's words. The phrase "if you can endure it" spoke volumes. It assured difficulty.
"What's the difference between the two?" Atticus asked cautiously.
"Armament Haki is energy within your body," Zephyr explained. "You must first sense it, then come into contact with it, master it, and finally be able to control it. The fastest way to awaken it is by taking blows — letting your body absorb pain and hardness until you awaken the energy."
"Observation Haki requires you to empty your mind, extend your spirit, sense nature around you, and detect enemies' moves. To train it, you must close your eyes and dodge my attacks. If you cannot dodge, then fight back — that trains your reflexes and awareness. But you must rely purely on instinct and feel."
Zephyr smiled gently, though the chill in his gaze made Atticus's heart skip a beat.
Atticus took a deep breath, his resolve forming. "Very well, Master. I will put myself through it."
"Then let us begin. Remember, you may fight back if you feel ready. But keep your eyes closed."
Atticus obeyed. He closed his eyes, signaling Zephyr to start.
Without warning, Atticus was struck. His body flew backward, dust rising as he slammed into the ground. Pain tore through him as blow after blow landed. Groans escaped his lips. His limbs ached, his spirit reeled.
All through the night, he endured. Physical agony was one thing, but maintaining his mental focus, anticipating attacks in utter darkness, that was excruciating. His muscles burned, and his mind threatened to break.
At 3 a.m., Zephyr stopped. He looked down at his disciple lying unconscious in the dirt, his face streaked with grime and exhaustion. A tender look of pride crossed Zephyr's features.
So often he had wondered whether taking on this disciple had been a mistake. But every time he saw this — the stubbornness, the drive, the unyielding will — he felt renewed conviction. In this life, choosing Atticus as his disciple was no misfortune.
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