Loya's mind raced as he tried to recall faces. 'Bearded guy? Nope. Blonde seahorse? Drawing a blank. Two-sword dude? No idea.'
After exploring, he grinned to himself. 'Just props! Sweet! No chaos for me, just smooth sailing with Zephyr.'
Suddenly, an instructor-looking guy - probably a major general - bellowed, "Seventh team! Fall in!"
The scattered recruits scrambled to form lines. Loya, clueless, spotted two empty spots in the back row and quickly slipped in.
After some opening remarks, the instructor turned and saluted. "General Zephyr, seventh team of the recruit battalion, 53 members present and accounted for. Awaiting your instructions, sir!"
Loya's head snapped around. Sure enough, there was Zephyr in his purple suit, seemingly materialized out of nowhere.
The playground erupted in excited whispers.
"Holy crap, it's General Zephyr!" "I can't believe I'm seeing him with my own eyes!" "Why's he here? Doesn't he usually stick to the elite camp?" "You don't think it's because of... you know..." "No way! Could it be?"
The major general's face darkened. "Silence!" he roared.
Loya winced at the volume, thinking, 'Man, these guys can yell. Is this what I signed up for?'
The previously chaotic formation fell silent, and the recruits stood with heads high, not daring to make a sound.
Zephyr walked to the front of the team, looking at the energetic recruits. He frowned slightly. Although most recruits at the Navy Headquarters training were the children of naval officers with a solid foundation, recent recruits lacked the strength and temperament of their predecessors.
But now wasn't the time for dissatisfaction. He came to the boot camp today to see a promising recruit and make an announcement.
"I'm here today to inform you of something. I think some of you already know—yes! The annual elite assessment of the boot camp is about to start!"
Whoa!
Despite their speculations, everyone was excited to hear Zephyr officially announce the news. Joining the elite battalion meant graduating as lieutenants at the very least!
They were recruits at the headquarters, but without enough strength, they might only become first-class soldiers after graduation. Every soldier dreams of climbing to a higher position, and joining the elite battalion was a shortcut, saving years of hard work.
"Quiet! If anyone speaks again, you'll all run 100 laps around the playground!" The major general stepped up to maintain order, pulling out the army's unique punishment method—group punishment.
Immediately, even those who couldn't keep their mouths shut were silenced by their peers.
Here's a revised version with more authentic dialogue and internal thoughts:
Zephyr's face remained impassive as he continued, "Don't get too excited. The elite assessment is real combat. You'll face life-or-death situations. Only the best make it to the elite camp. Got it?"
A weak "Yes" echoed through the ranks.
Zephyr's frown deepened. "I said, do you understand?" he barked.
This time, a resounding "Understood!" filled the air.
Loya thought, 'They're scared, but they're not stupid. No one wants to piss off Zephyr.'
As Zephyr left to observe from the second floor, Loya's mind raced. 'Life-or-death? That can't be right. The Navy's not some underground fight club.'
He recalled what he knew about the assessment. 'It's probably just hunting Navy-bred beasts on an island. They're just trying to scare us.'
Loya understood the logic. 'Can't make good soldiers without a taste of danger. But actual death? Nah, they're not that cruel.'
He glanced at his nervous comrades. 'Poor guys don't know it's mostly for show. But I guess that's the point. Can't have us thinking we're safe.'
A wry smile crossed his face. 'Well, Loya, you wanted adventure. Looks like you're getting it. Navy HQ sure ain't no summer camp.'
As soon as Zephyr left, training began. First, everyone ran 200 laps around the playground. This was the daily routine of the seven squads at boot camp.
The boot camp playground was vast, a full two kilometers per lap. With seven teams of recruits, hundreds of people required a large space to train together.
Loya's seventh team was the last, and only the last team had vacancies when lining up. This order wasn't based on strength but simply the order of joining.
Thanks to nine years of compulsory education, Loya had mastered proficient long-distance running skills. He didn't try to lead by relying on his physical strength but maintained a steady rhythm, keeping in the middle of the team.
In the first dozens of laps, people overtook him, but he remained unfazed, ensuring he wasn't last. By the 100-lap mark, some recruits began to fall behind, and he gradually overtook them.
In the last 50 laps, Loya maintained his speed, surpassing one recruit after another, moving to the front of the team. Only two or three could maintain the lead at this point.
"Impressive physical fitness!" Loya thought, admiring the few around him. After running so long, their only signs of exertion were heavy breathing, and every step remained steady.
After 200 laps, Loya only felt a slight soreness in his calves, which subsided with a bit of exercise.
Dragon Slayer Sorcerers, aside from appearance, are essentially superhuman. Their strength and endurance far surpass ordinary people. He paced slowly, shaking his hands and feet to relax.
From the second floor, Zephyr watched through the glass. His furrowed brows relaxed slightly. Though Loya's defense wasn't strong, getting knocked out by Mole's punch, his endurance was commendable.
"Maybe I should increase his physical training. At this intensity, he won't achieve the training goals," Zephyr mused.
Zephyr glanced at Kuzan as he arrived. "What brings you down to the boot camp? Busy schedule loosening up?"
"A la la, don't be like that, Teacher Zephyr," Kuzan drawled, leaning against the wall. His eyes found Loya through the glass. "Fleet Admiral wants me to tutor the kid on his fruit ability. Just following orders."
Zephyr snorted, turning away. "Hmph! Fruit ability alone doesn't make a strong warrior!"
Kuzan thought, 'Isn't that exactly what Kizaru does?' but kept it to himself. No need to push his luck with his old teacher.
Instead, he mused aloud, "Mole says the kid's freezing is more about temperature than range. Not sure how much I can teach him. It's not quite like my elemental fruit."
"That's your problem to solve," Zephyr grunted. "Dragons are rare. We can't waste that potential, even if fruit ability shouldn't be his only focus."
"Yes, yes, I understand," Kuzan sighed, already feeling tired at the prospect of teaching.
Dragon-Dragon Fruit, Model: Ice Dragon
Loya had crafted this story for himself. Before coming to Marineford, Mole had repeatedly inquired about his background and fruit ability. Without the rigor of censuses and ID cards, it was a hassle to keep it straight.
So, he wove the tale of a tragic orphan, working as a handyman on a merchant ship. Attacked by pirates, the ship sank. Only he survived, washed onto a lonely island where he found a devil fruit.
The sea in this world is vast, and the navy can't know where every obscure merchant ship is or which pirate group uses a blue-skinned and white-bellied civet cat flag. The story was almost seamless.
At the end of the run, after a five-minute rest, the major general instructor arranged the next exercise: back discus squat.
Loya's performance earned Zephyr's praise. Recruits typically did 50 to 100 squats. Less than 50 meant starting as a first-class soldier after graduation.
Loya's stamina was impressive. The instructor finally grew impatient, calculating the time for the next training before letting him stop.
His teammates counted for him: 973 squats! Standard form, average speed, just a bit out of breath.
Loya's dragon body had reached 18%, a significant enhancement. Being knocked out by Mole's fist didn't mean Loya was weak.
Boot camp physical training was simple for Loya. Soon, the morning passed. Following the instructor's order, everyone stood up and dusted themselves off.
"One hour for lunch, then back to training! Dismissed!" the instructor called out.
Loya's eyes lit up as his stomach growled audibly. As a dragon slayer at Tier [-], his appetite was insatiable. The morning's buns felt like a distant memory, leaving him famished. Despite his hunger, Loya felt energized - his magic and physical strength still brimming. It was an odd contrast.
"Finally! Chow time!" Loya exclaimed, leaping towards the cafeteria on his ice cubes.
Some of the veterans, impressed by Loya's morning performance, exchanged glances.
"Hey rookie, mind if we join you?" one called out.
Word spread quickly through the camp about Loya's abilities.
"Did you hear? The new guy's a devil fruit user!" "No way! Those are super rare, right?" "Yeah, even here at boot camp, that's something to see."
Watching Loya zip away, Zephyr turned to Kuzan with a thoughtful expression. "Say Kuzan, can you move like that too?"
Kuzan shrugged, looking somewhat unimpressed. "Short hops? Sure. But for any real distance? Nah, not worth the effort. I'd rather just go in for a direct hit."
Zephyr's brow furrowed. "Shame. I was hoping we might have an answer to those flying pirates giving us trouble. You know, like Golden Lion and that Marco guy from Whitebeard's crew."
Kuzan sighed, explaining, "It's not that simple. My whole body's ice, thanks to the fruit. I can't just make cubes appear out of nowhere. If there's moisture in the air, sure, I can freeze it instantly. But otherwise..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Marco's flying trick? That's on another level entirely. Sometimes a straightforward attack is just faster, you know?"
Kuzan and Zephyr's conversation was unknown to Loya. His sole purpose was food.
Swooping down, tumbling to vent the impact, Loya rushed to the front of Ms. S in the cafeteria. He scanned the area and immediately knew what lunch was.
"Twenty servings of white rice and stewed meat, and a pot of broth!"
"A pot?" Ms. S was stunned. She then placed the spoon on Loya's forehead. "Boy, can you eat that much? Waste food, and I won't spare you!"
Loya stepped back, licking the gravy off the spoon. "Don't worry, I won't waste food! I'm more concerned you haven't cooked enough!"
"Huh? No one dares say that in my thirty years at Marineford!" Ms. S threw the spoon aside, grabbing a clean one, ready for a battle. "You must be why Lieutenant General Mole told us to make extra servings! Let's duel! See if my cooking can keep up with your eating!"
Loya's appetite surged, but he reconsidered. "That's okay. I have to train this afternoon, and I'll be punished if I'm late."
"Is that so..." Ms. S's tone softened, recalling the boot camp and elite training camp's strictness.
"Sister S, since he's training this afternoon, you can duel tonight. Fewer recruits will be here then." A chef suggested. They were curious about Loya's appetite after Lieutenant General Mole's notice.
Hearing this, both sides' eyes lit up.
"Then, duel! Tonight!"
"Well, okay, okay!"
How much could Loya eat? Even he didn't know. He was now a humanoid dragon. Anticipating the evening duel, Loya's expectations soared.
Afternoon training was more complex than morning. As the navy fought pirates, combat skills like fighting and swordsmanship required extensive practice.