Rono walked toward the arena, his mind replaying Cassel's behavior.
"Wait, can a rear admiral be that much of a goofball? How did someone with a personality like that even get promoted?"
(Says the guy who's even more shameless...)
"System, analyze it for me."
"Understood. Please hold on…"
Less than 30 seconds later—
Beep.
"After simulating 136 scenarios, the most likely conclusion is that the Rear Admiral sees value in your talent and reports you to Marine HQ. However, judging from his microexpressions, he remains a bit wary of you. The system believes it's due to the drastic transformation you've undergone over the past year. Nothing to worry about."
"Well, I'm pretty helpless here too. I transmigrated into this world at 14, parents already dead, living off inherited property—that was all the original body's doing! Why am I the one stuck with the consequences?"
"What are you so proud of?! If it weren't for this grand and glorious system forcing you to train every day, you'd be a lazy bum just like he was! So hurry up and thank your great system, dammit!"
The system had entered full rant mode—five jabs per second.
"·ε·"
Rono looked sideways, whistling, pretending not to hear a thing.
Amid the system's nonstop tirade, Rono arrived at the arena. A group of Marines had formed a circle, inside which two people were grappling, occasionally tossing in some basic hand-to-hand combat.
"Make way! Let me in! Hey, why didn't you wait for me? I've already got 11 straight wins—you guys better not weasel out on me!"
Rono pushed through the crowd and stepped into the inner circle.
Just then, the match inside reached its conclusion. The bulky, muscular Marine on the left burst into a flex, slamming his opponent onto the ground. Cheers erupted from the onlookers.
"Kid, sure you've won 11 matches—but you've only fought newbies. You're no match for Ivan here."
The Marine beside him, who'd been pushed aside, wasn't angry. He smiled cheerfully as he spoke.
"Then let me give it a shot!"
Before Rono even finished his sentence, he jumped into the ring.
"Recruit Rono—nice to meet you!"
"Ivan," the muscle man grunted.
"3, 2, 1!"
The referee waved his hand to signal the start.
The cheerful grin vanished from Rono's face. In a flash, he launched a whip kick straight at Ivan's head. Ivan didn't say a word, quickly raising his right arm to block and swinging his left fist toward Rono's gut. It was a sharp angle—hard to counter. Rono managed to block the punch but still staggered backward.
He wasn't one to take a hit lightly. In a smooth motion, he flipped backward to create distance.
Ivan came charging in with a straight punch. Rono ducked low and swept out a leg—sweep kick—catching Ivan just as his weight was shifting forward. The moment Ivan began to fall, Rono spun on his outstretched leg and launched his other knee straight into Ivan's chest.
"Knee Cannon!"
Rono even shouted the name of the move, full of over-the-top flair.
Thud!
A muffled crash rang out as Ivan was launched into the air and crashed to the ground.
The spectators gasped.
Had the real fight just started?
No—it had already ended.
"Cough… cough…"
Ivan struggled to his feet.
"I lost. Thanks for holding back."
He could feel that Rono had pulled his final blow. Otherwise, this wouldn't have ended with a couple of coughs—he'd be bedridden for a month at least.
What Ivan didn't know was that, if it had been a fight to the death, that Knee Cannon would've been aimed at his face, not his chest. In that case, forget the hospital—go straight to the coffin shop.
"Aha, you're strong too!" Rono said, scratching his head.
"You're not even trying to sound sincere!"
The crowd muttered with narrowed eyes.
"Huh? Really?"
Rono glanced around, then slapped his forehead.
"Oh right! Don't forget our deal—a meal!"
"Yeah yeah, we know. You filthy rich guy and you still make us treat you!"
A Marine named Ibaka stepped forward to help Ivan up.
"Come on, let's hit the restaurant!"
"Yeah!"
A lively group of Marines headed toward the restaurant.
After feasting to their hearts' content, everyone lounged in their chairs, resting.
"Hey, guys… I have something to say," Ivan stood up, his voice a little downcast.
Everyone seemed to already know what was coming. They stopped what they were doing, and the restaurant instantly fell silent. (They had rented the whole place.)
As for Rono, he was lying on the ground, belly bulging, trying to recover from overeating.
"I'm heading to Marine Headquarters tomorrow… Thank you all for taking care of me all these years. I… I'll never forget you guys!" Ivan bowed deeply to everyone, and a single tear slid down his lowered face.
"Huh? Are you going to Marine Headquarters too? What a coincidence! So am I!"
Rono, still sprawled out nearby, perked up and spoke excitedly.
…The solemn mood shattered instantly. Everyone turned to stare at Rono.
"What? Did I say something wrong?" Rono looked around, thoroughly confused.
"Aha… Come on, guys, what are you doing? Isn't it better to have a cheerful atmosphere than a sad one?" Ibaka shrugged and added, "Besides, we all knew Ivan was leaving, right? This dinner was his farewell party. Oh, and for Rono too, I guess."
"Ah! You bastards! So you all knew already?! And I was trying to keep it a secret for days?! Unbelievable! You just wanted to see me embarrass myself, didn't you?" Ivan shouted playfully as he put a fellow Marine in a headlock.
"Ahh! I'm gonna die! Ivan, please let go! It was Brother Ibaka who eavesdropped!"
The restaurant quickly turned rowdy again…
Everyone was a bit stunned at first when they learned Rono was also heading to HQ, but they soon accepted it. After all, someone his age with such combat strength joining Marine Headquarters was practically inevitable—it was only a matter of time. Still, going there just two days after arriving? That was impressively fast.
Rono, freshly bathed, lay on a comfortable bed and let out a satisfied sigh. He opened up the system's daily status panel. (It seemed to be the only thing he could use.)
Body Strength: 32 (1)
Bone Strength: 41 (2)
Nothing else had changed, but Rono was a bit surprised.
"System, why is my bone strength increasing so quickly?"
Beep.
"Bone enhancement doesn't only raise strength—it also improves potential. Plus, the host is currently in a growth phase. Male skeletal development typically stabilizes at age 22. After that, increases in bone strength are minimal."
"Ugh! There's a cap? What about body strength?"
"In theory, there's no limit in this world."
"System, who do you think is stronger—me or Kaido of the Beasts?"
"I recommend the host not seek death. Since you're a Devil Fruit user, if your bones get broken and you're thrown into the sea, you're done for. No comparison."
"Ugh… so eating a Devil Fruit was a mistake? My bone-implant armor is pretty strong though…"
"In theory, not necessarily. It depends on how well you develop your fruit's powers. Whitebeard was also a Devil Fruit user."
"Oh, got it. I'll focus on improving my fruit abilities."
Beep.
"Friendly reminder: the body is the foundation of revolution. Whitebeard also had very high physical strength. Therefore, host, please refrain from excessive… solo activities."
"…"
Rono knew what usually came after these 'friendly reminders'—and sure enough:
Beep!
"Congratulations, host. You have received Inferno Training (II)."
"Congratulations, my ass! I don't want it! Can't you do anything without a beep?!"
"×2."
Rono turned to stone.
"Hey… Lord System… just pretend I didn't say that, okay? Please let it slide this time?"
"×3."
"Alright! Please don't go any further! A dumbass like me doesn't deserve to live in this world. I'm sorry for all the trouble I've caused you." or
Beep.
"Given the host's sincere apology… fine. Two rounds it is!"
"Hey! You enjoyed that just now, didn't you?! Are you a system?! Weren't you supposed to be rigid, cold, with a loli voice?!"
…Of course, Rono only dared to think these things—he wouldn't say them out loud.
"Whatever. Sleep. I'm going to sleep."
Rono closed his eyes.
"Data compiling… gene-to-Devil Fruit compatibility: 53%. Logged in records.
Assessment: trending toward further synchronization…"
Rono slept soundly, completely unaware of the system's eerie voice echoing in the dark.
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