The moment Kyūjō's blade sliced through the air, it let out a deafening screech—like thunder splitting open the heavens.

Zephyr's eyes widened. This wasn't normal.

Something about this kid… was seriously wrong.

A dark purple aura, the unmistakable sign of advanced-grade Armament Haki, pulsed from Tachibana Kyūjō's body. Even though he wasn't trying to show it off, the power bled out naturally.

The next instant—

Rairyūken struck Zephyr square in the chest.

The force behind the blade detonated like a focused shockwave. Zephyr's massive body was launched backward, skidding across the ground before crashing through the far wall of the training hall.

But not even a second later—

Zephyr was already back in the air.

He twisted mid-flight, landed hard, and shot straight back into the arena like a fired cannonball. His gaze locked onto Kyūjō, disbelief plain in his voice.

"Don't tell me… You've already mastered advanced-grade Armament Haki?!"

Kyūjō gave him an earnest nod. "Zephyr-sensei… I was holding back."

Zephyr blinked.

He didn't respond. Instead, he turned to look at the rest of the Marine recruits still gathered in the hall. His voice was flat, disappointed.

"Training's over for today. Do whatever you want."

Then, without waiting for questions, he gestured to Kyūjō.

"You. With me."

— — —

Once they were gone, silence gripped the hall.

A swordsman who had already awakened advanced-level Busoshoku Haki… was training alongside them?

Them—who hadn't even mastered the basics?

The Marine training system followed a strict structure.

First, they were drilled into peak physical condition—far beyond the limits of an average human. That was the baseline needed to even qualify for low officer ranks like Lieutenant.

Then, those with potential were selected for the elite training camp. That's where they were introduced to Rokushiki, the Navy's core six martial techniques. Most recruits only ever managed to master one or two.

Among them, Tekkai—the Iron Body technique—was especially emphasized.

Not only because it served as a gateway to awakening Armament Haki…

But because, frankly, it kept you alive.

Tekkai hardened the body. It built the foundation. If your Haki matured—if it became thick, stable, and solid—you could reach the strength of a Rear Admiral.

That was the dream.

But now, standing in the middle of these hopefuls who hadn't even unlocked Haki yet...

Was a swordsman with high-grade Busoshoku.

A swordsman alone was already terrifying.

But a swordsman with that level of Haki?

That was Admiral-tier potential.

They all felt it in their bones—

This guy wasn't just strong. He wasn't just gifted.

He was something else entirely.

A monster in the making—one who could one day rival the Admirals.

— — —

Elsewhere, inside the Marineford indoor training facility, a pink-haired girl dragged herself inside like a lifeless zombie. Her legs felt like jelly, and her expression was one of total defeat.

"Hina wants to know… where's Zephyr-sensei today? Aren't we supposed to start Rokushiki training?" she asked, glancing at her friend.

Sara spun around, eyes shining with excitement. She looked like she was dying to share some juicy gossip.

"You won't believe this! There's a swordsman in our group who's already mastered advanced Armament Haki! He's training with us!"

Hina's jaw dropped.

Her sweet expression—complete with puffy cheeks and wide eyes—made several nearby cadets freeze mid-step.

"She's so cute…" whispered Cadet A.

"If she married me, I'd leave the Navy right now," sighed Cadet B dreamily.

"Get in line! Hina belongs to me!" shouted another recruit, throwing a punch at the dreamer beside him.

While chaos erupted around them, Smoker stood nearby, silently puffing on two cigars.

He watched the others, his gaze filled with quiet contempt.

But deep down, he was shaken.

"...I laugh at them. But to him… I probably look just as pathetic."

For the first time, Smoker felt something bitter rise in his chest—

Frustration at his own weakness.

Since that moment, even though Kyūjō never said a word…

Smoker couldn't stop thinking.

He finally understood.

He was nowhere near enough.

— — —

On the far western coast of Marineford, where the elite officer training area sat quiet and undisturbed, two figures stood alone.

Zephyr—former Admiral, a living legend whose strength once shook the seas.

And Tachibana Kyūjō—

A young swordsman whose presence now threatened to surpass his own generation entirely.

The sounds of impact and shockwaves rocked the western cliffside.

Their clash lasted two hours.

In the end, the spar had to be stopped.

Kyūjō, operating at eighty percent of his full strength, was forced to withdraw.

Not because he couldn't keep fighting.

But because the entire training ground was falling apart.

Unlike Zephyr, who had perfect control over the battlefield, Kyūjō still lacked finesse.

Each of his strikes tore through the terrain like a plow splitting the earth. If they kept going, there would be nothing left to train on.

As Kyūjō finally came to a stop, catching his breath slightly, Zephyr remained standing—still steady—and burst into laughter.

"Hah! Amazing. Absolutely amazing."

"Your Haki is thick and refined. Your swordsmanship is polished. And your control over your body… nearly flawless. Every strike uses your entire frame efficiently. The flow between your attacks—impeccable. There's build-up in your rhythm."

Zephyr's voice was alive with admiration.

"How old are you, kid? How the hell did you train to this level?"

Kyūjō scratched his head, sheepishly smiling.

"Honestly? I'm not that impressive, Zephyr-sensei. I'm twenty-five."

Zephyr gave a satisfied nod.

Twenty-five.

Not old—not even close.

Back when Akainu, Aokiji, and Kizaru were that age… none of them had reached this stage.

In his heart, Zephyr made a decision.

I'll forge him into another Admiral-class warrior for the Navy.

But beneath that promise, a more personal desire lingered…

He wanted Tachibana Kyūjō—

A pure swordsman who relied solely on his body and Haki, untouched by Devil Fruits—

to grow strong enough to beat down all three current Admirals.

All three… had eaten Devil Fruits.

And Zephyr—Zephyr the Black Arm—had always hated that.

They were his students once.

But he never accepted how Devil Fruits had become shortcuts—how they overshadowed raw training.

To him, Devil Fruits were cheats. Crutches. A false path.

The true way was the body.

The true strength was Haki.

The true warriors were those who mastered their limits without outside power.

And Kyūjō—

Even though he wielded a blade—

embodied that path.

He wasn't a shortcut.

He was the real thing.

And Zephyr had no doubt in his mind—

One day, this swordsman would surpass even the Admirals.

Because only those who walked the path of pure Haki and iron resolve…

Deserved to be called the strongest in the world.

— — —

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