Chapter 21

"Don't worry, I'll shape him into an admiral to rival your best."

"Ah la la," Kuzan replied, "sounds perfect. When you're an admiral, sleep becomes a luxury. Too busy to even catch your breath. Time just flies."

Three days later, the island's coast was buzzing with activity.

The horn blared, signaling the end of the assessment. Recruits slowly gathered on the shore, a motley crew - some barely standing without help. The assembly horn kept sounding as more emerged from the forest.

"Hey, what'd you score?" one asked.

"No clue, can't tell most of these animals apart."

As they chatted, their eyes kept flicking to Loya at the front. News of his battle with the Silverback had spread like wildfire. Some recruits even ditched their tasks to check out the site.

The forest bore ugly scars from the fight - deep gashes stretching hundreds of meters. Everything around was frozen solid, turning the area into a mini tundra. Animals and insects caught in the crossfire stood as eerie ice sculptures. It was beautiful in a haunting, terrifying way.

"Frozen hell" was all anyone could say.

Ironically, this chilling battlefield became a popular campsite. Loya's dragon aura and the silverback's final roars kept other beasts away. Not even insects dared chirp here.

"No worries about nighttime attacks. Is there a safer spot in the whole forest?" recruits joked. It felt more like a camping trip than a combat assessment.

"Man, are we really fighting this guy?" Some recruits felt duped by Zephyr's words. They'd planned to gang up on Loya, but seeing his power, they wondered who was really in trouble here.

"It can't be that bad, right? One-on-one rotation, we can wear him down," someone speculated, not sounding too sure.

"Nah, it's gotta be a group battle. One-on-one, we'd drop before he even breaks a sweat. He's got an animal fruit, remember?"

The previous speaker fell silent, realizing the truth. Among devil fruit types, Zoan fruits might be the weakest, but in terms of durability, they excel. Loya's physical prowess, honed through boot camp, was no joke.

Loya, standing bored at the front, was thinking about his unfinished barbecue. The assembly horn called everyone in. He couldn't ignore a military order, even for a barbecue.

Mole and other generals stood before him, casting surprised and friendly glances. They had seen the battlefield—claw marks, human-sized craters, toppled trees, and blood on the ice, proving the ferocity of the battle.

Despite Loya's destructive power forcing a day's pause in the assessment, the generals acknowledged his strength. In terms of sheer destructiveness, only a few headquarters' vice admirals could match him.

If he maintained this state constantly, it'd be frightening.

The vice admirals pondered this, knowing Loya's big moves could drastically boost his strength and speed. He hadn't hidden his training. Elite camp members often watched him refine his techniques.

With the phantom beast dragon fruit and his rapid growth, Loya was poised for greatness—unless he met an untimely demise. Even if he just maintained his current strength, a vice admiral role was inevitable.

With these attributes, the vice admirals naturally extended goodwill toward Loya, no longer seeing him as just a recruit. In the One Piece world, respect was earned by strength.

Half a day later, the last group of recruits was carried out of the forest by the patrol team and taken to the infirmary. A school official reported to Zephyr.

"Chief Instructor, all members are assembled!"

"Good," Zephyr nodded, taking the report.

The first page detailed the battle statistics: 75 recruits seriously injured, countless minor injuries, but no fatalities. He glanced at it briefly before moving to the second page, which listed the results, revealing the recruits' strength.

Zephyr sighed, giving instructions, "Announce the final results once they're tallied."

"Yes, sir!" The school official saluted and hurried off.

Zephyr stood on the deck, eyes fixed on Loya, who stood motionless, face unreadable.

"Is the new navy really this weak?" Zephyr muttered to himself.

After over half an hour, the final tally was complete. Footsteps approached, and the recruits snapped to attention, heads high, ready for the big reveal.

The lead major-general instructor saluted the lieutenant general, then turned to face the recruits with a stern look.

"At ease! Attention! Your assessment results are about to be announced. Everyone ready? First four rows, squat down!"

A synchronized rustling followed as the front rows dropped down. The major general nodded approvingly and signaled for the projector to be switched on. Images flickered onto the long curtain.

The recruits held their breath, eyes scanning for their names. Some broke into grins; others bit their lips in disappointment.

Loya, like the rest, searched for one thing: first place. He found it quickly.

Tony Mill, score 1795, rank: first.

1795 points—a score that would terrify most recruits. The Shigu cow Loya had faced, impervious to muskets, was worth just 50 points. Most recruits would run from a Shigu cow, not hunt them.

Loya remembered Tony Mill—the third team's ace. Before joining the navy, he'd run a kendo dojo on a small island. After pirates razed his town, he'd joined up for revenge. A fierce fighter, he'd knocked the former third team leader off his perch on day one and hadn't budged since.

But to Loya and Zephyr, Tony was still small fry. Past recruits had been monsters in comparison. Loya had once asked Zephyr about Kuzan's old score. The answer had floored him, really driving home the insane advantages of Logia fruits.

"Wonder what Tony would think if he knew how far behind he really is," Loya mused, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

"Here are the results of this assessment!"

The major general's voice boomed across the coast. "Now, I'll announce who passed the elite assessment."

The recruits perked up, hanging on every word. Even those who knew they didn't make the cut were eager to hear who did. Gossip and speculation had been rampant, with some recruits even making secret bets on the outcomes.

Loya chuckled to himself. "I swear, the betting ring wasn't my idea."

"First place, Tony Mill, step forward!"

"Yes, sir!"

The crowd fell silent. With a score of 1795, Tony's spot in the elite camp was no shock. He was a mature-looking young man, his eyes carrying a deep sadness from his family's tragedy. A scar from forehead to left cheek, courtesy of a pirate, told its own story.

Tony stood up, glaring at Loya, hand clenched on his sword.

"First place? Only because that guy didn't compete," Tony muttered.

Loya felt the glare, turned, and flashed a warm smile. Only when Tony looked away did Loya let out a quiet sigh of relief. The elite camp had looser rules, and challenges were common. Tony, strong and determined, would likely make Loya's daily life "interesting" - meaning challenging. But it seemed like a waste of energy to Loya; beating Tony wouldn't even boost his power level by 10 points.

The major general instructor, oblivious to the tension, continued.

"Second place, Laurent Minnie, step forward!"

A buzz of confusion swept through the ranks.

"Minnie? With barely over 800 points?"

"Yeah, why's the cutoff so low this time?"

"This has gotta be a joke! Someone's pulling strings!"

Loya raised an eyebrow, curious about this unexpected turn of events. "Well, this should be interesting," he mused.