Chapter 14

Loya's grin suddenly faltered. His face turned an alarming shade of green, and he crumpled to the deck like a sack of potatoes.

"Mole... buddy... please tell me you brought seasickness pills," he groaned, reaching out with shaking hands.

Mole stared at him in disbelief. "Why the hell would I have those?!"

"I'm dying here... Oh god—" Loya's cheeks puffed out ominously.

"Don't you dare puke on me!" Mole yelped, jumping back.

With Loya finally on board (albeit horizontal), the major general barked the order to set sail. The ship lurched forward, desperate to catch up with the fleet and maybe, just maybe, outrun the smell of Loya's misery.

It was a cruel joke that the ship's medics, experts in patching up battle wounds, were utterly useless against the mighty foe of motion sickness. And really, who'd have thought a Navy recruit would get seasick? Talk about an oversight.

Zephyr watched the spectacle, his eye twitching. The pride of the Navy, his personal pick for the elite squad, reduced to a quivering, retching mess on the deck. If the World Government hadn't warned him, he'd never have believed it.

Finally, Zephyr snapped. He stormed over, shoving aside the hapless doctor and the recruit trying to help Loya. Without a word, he hauled back and punched Loya square on the head.

WHAM!

The deck went dead silent. Every recruit held their breath, staring at the cartoonish lump rising from Loya's skull. And was that... a smile on his face?

"Did... did he just get knocked out?" someone whispered. "Why does he look so happy about it?"

Zephyr flexed his hand, grumbling, "At least now he'll be quiet for the rest of the trip."

The recruits exchanged nervous glances. Note to self: never, ever get on General Zephyr's bad side.

After tossing Loya back into the cabin, the ship calmed down. Recruits either anxiously scanned the horizon or nervously polished their weapons, trying to quell their inner turmoil.

They were still just recruits, unlike Loya who had faced bloodshed. Even though their destination was a small island used for naval assessments with no bloodthirsty pirates, only packs of beasts, tension and anxiety still loomed large.

The elite assessment was serious but not exactly a state secret, like entrance exams back in Loya's time. Though the exact questions were secret, the general subjects were known.

Zephyr sighed. Previous recruits had seen some blood, but this year's batch? Not so much. Even knowing the subjects, their performance was lackluster, with no one particularly outstanding.

The only halfway decent one, Loya, wasn't a true navy scion or a conscription recruit. He was a lucky find by Mole.

The naval power gap was still a serious issue.

Mole sidled up to Zephyr, offering a cigar with an awkward grin. "C'mon, teach, it's not all bad. We've got Loya, the elite camp's solid. Things could be worse, right? Here, have a smoke. It's prime stuff from Chambord."

Zephyr's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to, Mole?"

"Uh..." Mole squirmed under Zephyr's gaze. This wasn't his usual steady, by-the-book self.

After an uncomfortable silence, Mole cracked. "Alright, look. Loya asked me to... well, to ask you if you could maybe talk to the Fleet Admiral. Get him stationed at headquarters instead of sea duty."

He quickly added, "But it's totally your call, teach! No pressure, haha..."

Zephyr frowned. "Why's he bringing this up now?"

Mole laughed nervously. "Right, gotcha. I'll just go tell him it's a no-go then."

Internally, Mole was kicking himself. "Damn that kid! Pushing me into this... I'll get him back for this later."

It turned out Loya had overheard Kuzan talking about deploying the elite battalion to the four major sea areas. The Grand Line! Even with their best ships, it'd take at least ten days to get there. For a guy who got seasick on a calm day in the harbor, it was a nightmare scenario.

As for why Mole agreed to play messenger? Well, let's just say Loya had some compromising evidence involving Mole and certain "reading materials" in the office...

Mole was about to slink away when Zephyr spoke up. "I'll... talk to World Government about it."

Mole's jaw dropped. "R-really? I mean, yes sir! Thank you, sir!" He saluted sharply, then bolted for the cabin. He had a certain photo to retrieve from Loya's grubby hands.

As Mole disappeared below deck, Zephyr sighed, rubbing his temples. "The things I do for these kids," he muttered, lighting up the cigar. At least it was good tobacco.

The warship sailed into the windless belt and stopped in the bay of a medium-sized island.

This uncharted island had been a navy training ground for decades.

The island's weak magnetic field meant nautical pointers wouldn't point here, ensuring its concealment. Moreover, it was home to many powerful native creatures and stocked with beasts by the navy, making it a perfect testing ground for recruits.

Ordinary recruits from the four seas didn't need assessment, but headquarters recruits, the future navy elite, had to face this trial of blood and fire.

Lush vegetation covered the island. From the simple port, all that could be seen were green leaves and two fiery red crabs strolling on the beach, painting a picture of peace.

But the occasional ferocious roars from the island's depths shattered the illusion of tranquility.

Many recruits swallowed nervously, exchanging uneasy glances.

"Shouldn't we be heading to the island?" one recruit whispered nervously.

"Yeah, I heard this place is crawling with man-eating beasts," another added, his voice trembling slightly.

A collective shudder ran through the group.

Zephyr gave Mole a nod, and the instructors began preparing for the assessment. The major general of Loya's seventh team stepped forward, his voice booming across the deck.

"Listen up, recruits! Time for the elite assessment. Here's the deal: You've got three days to hunt creatures on this island. Top three scorers make it to the elite camp. Bigger beasts mean more points. Hell, even squashing a crab gets you something." He gestured at the beach, attempting a joke that fell flat on the anxious recruits.

Clearing his throat, he continued, "It's solo, but teaming up is allowed. Just remember, shared kill means shared points. We've got eyes all over the island, so no funny business."

"Grab your smoke bombs before you go. If you're in over your head, use 'em to signal for help. But remember," his tone turned grave, "calling for help means zero points. And it doesn't guarantee your safety. A nasty beast could still make mincemeat out of you in seconds. Good luck!"

After a nod from Zephyr, he added, "Now, come get your gear. Standard-issue weapons and one day's rations. Hand over any personal weapons."

The recruits lined up, a mix of excitement and terror on their faces.

Loya grabbed a dagger and some gunpowder, skipping the gun. The quartermaster looked puzzled.

"No gun?" he asked.

Loya shrugged. "Can't use it well enough. But gunpowder's great for fires and disinfecting. This bag waterproof?"

The quartermaster nodded, impressed. "Smart thinking, kid. Yeah, it'll stay dry even underwater."

As Loya left the ship, bouncing on ice blocks to avoid seasickness, he was immediately swarmed by other recruits.

"Loya, team up with us!" "Yeah, we'll be safer with you!"

Their pleas were naked, without pretense. In this world, strength was everything.

Loya glanced at the departing bigwigs, then sighed. "Fine, but just for one day. After that, you're on your own. We can't all make elite camp if we stick together."

They reluctantly agreed. After all, they were supposed to be future navy elites. How could they face pirates if they chickened out now?

Loya raised his fist. "Alright, let's do this!"

A chorus of nervous but determined "Yes!" rang out as they set off towards the unknown dangers of the island.

In the warship's monitoring center, admirals huddled around screens flickering with live feeds from the island. Navy officers scurried about, frantically jotting down recruits' scores.

Zephyr sat at the head of the table, leafing through recruit files. He glanced up, eyebrow raised at the man lounging across from him. "Kuzan? Don't you have better things to do?"

Kuzan yawned, stretching lazily. "Ah la la, not really. Thanks to you, teach. If it weren't for this, the Fleet Admiral would've shipped me off on some mission. Besides, the kid calls me teacher too. Gotta watch my student in action, right?"

Zephyr's eye twitched. He'd only just realized Kuzan had snuck aboard another warship in Marineford to tag along. Thanks to Zephyr's arrangement with the World Government, Kuzan had spent the past month teaching Loya - and apparently getting used to the cushy life.

Zephyr was starting to regret his decision. Wasn't he just enabling Kuzan's laziness?

"Enjoy your little vacation while it lasts," Zephyr growled. "The World Government won't let you laze about forever."

The other generals suddenly found the ceiling fascinating, pretending not to hear the exchange.

Kuzan shrugged, a move he'd picked up from Loya. That day in the square, Loya had driven Aludo mad with his sluggish, couldn't-care-less attitude.

"Yes, yes, I hear you," Kuzan drawled. "Always with the lectures, teach."

He pulled down his blindfold, propping his feet up on the table. "Anyway, I'm off to the East Blue tomorrow for a mission. Just tagging along for the show today."

Zephyr pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on. Sometimes he wondered if training the next generation was worth all this trouble.