The night hung quietly over Marineford, the crescent moon shining high above while the vast marine stronghold glowed with bright lanterns. Crowds of uniformed soldiers came and went, their movements constant even at this late hour.
Within the Marine Headquarters' inner district, a newly assigned, luxurious three-story villa stood waiting for its new owner.
Atticus turned the key and stepped inside. The spacious hall opened before him, warm lights reflecting off polished floors. He took in the sight with genuine satisfaction.
"A high-class villa truly lives up to its reputation. Everything is already set up and ready for use. Perfect."
"Rear Admiral, where should I put these?" A young marine, no older than seventeen, stood by the doorway holding the items Atticus had received as rewards. His eyes shimmered with admiration and excitement.
"Just place them here," Atticus said gently, still scanning the living room.
"No trouble at all. Really, it's my honor to help the Rear Admiral," the young man stammered while setting the items down, visibly nervous.
"Haha, there's no need to be so stiff. Still, I should thank you. Here, take this." Atticus pulled a few bills from the stack of Berries and placed them in the soldier's hand.
"No… no, Rear Admiral, I can't take this. I only helped carry things because I wanted to. I don't need a reward." The young man shook his head quickly, his expression firm.
"What's your name?" Atticus asked with a calm, warm tone.
"You can call me Pakas, Atticus San. I don't have a surname. I'm an orphan… I joined the Marines just last year." His voice softened, sadness briefly clouding his eyes.
"Pakas, huh? That's a good name." Atticus nodded slowly. He recognized the look—the quiet pain of someone who grew up alone. He understood it all too well.
"Pakas, do you want to become stronger?"
The question slipped from Atticus's mouth almost instinctively.
"Yes! I want to be like you one day, Atticus San. I saw your fight… it was incredible. I don't want to be bullied anymore. I want to grow stronger but…" His enthusiasm dimmed, and he lowered his head again, confidence fading.
"If you truly want strength, can you endure hardship?" A thought sparked in Atticus's mind—an idea forming without warning.
"Yes, I can. I'm not afraid of hard work… but no one has taught me how to train properly."
"In that case, I'll give you an opportunity. One month from now, I'll be setting sail. If you can meet my requirements by then, you can join my squad. Today, I received three Devil Fruits. If you prove yourself worthy, I don't mind giving you one."
The young man froze in shock. After a few seconds, his entire face lit up with disbelief and joy.
"R-Really? Atticus San… thank you, thank you so much."
"Listen carefully. I'll only explain this once." Atticus spoke with the same steady tone he remembered his own teacher, Zephyr, once using with him.
"Yes!" Pakas straightened his posture, forcing himself to remain focused.
"When you go back, follow my training routine. Strength comes first. Remember this: no one will supervise you. Everything depends on your will. If you cannot meet the standards in a month, then you'll remain a regular soldier. Opportunity always favors those who prepare for it."
Atticus listed the first day's regimen calmly.
"Day one: 500 push-ups, 200 frog jumps…"
Every instruction he gave was something he had personally endured in the past, though the numbers were lowered to something the boy could survive.
Ten minutes later, Pakas left, determination burning in his steps. Whether he succeeded or not would be revealed in a month.
Atticus stood alone in the quiet villa, unsure why he had helped the boy. Perhaps it had simply been a moment of impulse. Helping him cost nothing, and if Pakas possessed true potential, Atticus wouldn't mind giving him a push.
Besides, someday he planned to leave the Marines, and forming genuine connections never hurt.
Once the house fell silent again, he finally turned toward the rewards he had received.
The first item was a large sword.
A beautiful weapon—but unfortunately useless to him. Atticus had no interest in swordsmanship, despite how powerful swordsmen could become.
His training had always revolved around three things.
First, physical combat—techniques like Soru, Shigan, and Geppo.
Second, his Devil Fruit, which he believed could reach unrivaled heights with proper development.
Third, Haki—an ability more important than even Devil Fruits. Both required a solid body, so he focused heavily on building his physique.
The sword would be given to someone who needed it. Selling it never crossed his mind.
Next was the money, which he ignored without much thought.
Finally, his eyes stopped on the box containing his three Devil Fruits.
One Paramecia and two Zoan. None of them particularly impressive—at least not at first glance.
He picked up the Paramecia fruit, and the description caught his attention instantly.
The Gravity-Gravity Fruit.
Its ability allowed the user to increase the weight of themselves or anything they touched. If pushed to its extreme, even a fingertip could weigh millions of pounds. A graze could injure, a tap could crush.
Under overwhelming gravity, all power became meaningless. Atticus's eyes gleamed imagining the possibilities.
A terrifying ability—if the body could withstand it.
If the user could only handle one thousand pounds of added gravity, that became their limit. Everything depended on the user's physical strength. Give this to someone with monstrous endurance, and millions of pounds would be possible.
"There should be a Gravity-Gravity Fruit in this world already, so this is likely a lower-tier version. Still, it's a great fruit."
He put it aside and inspected the remaining two Zoan fruits.
His expression immediately dimmed.
One was a Mouse-Mouse Fruit.
The other was a Rabbit-Rabbit Fruit.
Both were common, basic variants.
He quickly lost interest. He would sell them later.
Of the three fruits, only the Paramecia one held real value.
Atticus stretched, feeling the exhaustion settle into his limbs.
A bath, dinner at Zephyr San's home, then sleep. Tomorrow, he would choose the thousand soldiers under his command.
After selecting them, he would train them personally for a month, then set sail. His goal was Vice Admiral—he needed that rank as soon as possible. Only then would he gain access to the World Government's intelligence network.
Not the Marines', but the Government's. A separate department. Broader, deeper, more reliable.
Just imagining it stirred excitement within him. With strength and authority finally within reach, he took one more step toward his ultimate goal.
His sister.
"Hazel… wait for me. Give me time, and I'll find you."
Atticus inhaled deeply, eyes shining with relentless determination.
His journey had only just begun.