Cage was just about to charge again when Yuno's calm words reached his ears. He froze for a second, lips twitching. This brat...
But then he saw Yuno lower his head.
As an instructor, Cage couldn't bring himself to strike again. His pride bristled, but he restrained it. He exhaled, stepped back, and hid his trembling right arm behind him. His eyes swept across the recruits as he spoke in a calm, steady tone:
"Remember this—this world is vast. Just because you have a little strength doesn't mean you can act however you please. There are always those far stronger than you. The strong are like nobles crossing a river—walk carefully, or you'll be swept away."
"You're the future pillars of the Navy. So don't get cocky."
He paused, letting the silence settle in.
"…That's all for today. Dismissed."
With that, Cage turned and left—never looking back, as if trying to hide something.
Yuno silently watched him go, muttering to himself, "Tch. No sword… no trump card… and still couldn't even seriously hurt a rear admiral…"
He clenched his fist.
Just now, that burst of Shunko had only barely repelled Cage. But it was enough to give Yuno a clearer sense of his own level.
If he used the full version… perhaps he could win. But crushing him? That was still a ways off.
What Yuno didn't know was that the brief clash had already caused damage to Cage's right arm.
It wasn't serious—but for someone like Cage, an elite Rear Admiral, being injured by a seventeen-year-old recruit was no small matter.
In Cage's eyes, Yuno was already a prodigy.
Back on the field, the new recruits stared at Yuno in awe, eyes gleaming like stars.
He'd repelled the instructor again.
Sure, it had looked like he was on the backfoot—but the fact that he could withstand a Vice Admiral-class opponent said everything.
A pretty female recruit stepped forward, blinking. "H-How did you train? Why are you so strong?"
Another piped up, "You're really only seventeen? That's insane! At seventeen, I was still getting beat up in drills!"
"Got any secrets you can teach us?"
In an instant, Yuno became the center of attention. Dozens of recruits surrounded him with questions and admiration, some in awe, others already thinking ahead—he was going places, and they wanted to be close to him before he became a star.
Yuno answered them all with a warm smile, not dismissing anyone.
Unlike other factions, the Navy was a sea of shifting alliances and silent power struggles.
Even among the three Admirals—Aokiji, Akainu, Kizaru—their philosophies divided them into factions: the hawks and the doves. And then… there were those who simply watched from the shadows.
Yuno knew all this well.
He'd been reborn into this world with full awareness of the chaos to come. The Navy might look unified now, but one day—a massive war would erupt for the position of Fleet Admiral.
If he wanted to rise, he couldn't walk alone.
He needed his own faction.
Recruit allies. Undercut rivals. Lay foundations. That was Yuno's silent plan.
After all, in his past life, he'd learned one truth the hard way—
Never fight a battle you're not sure you can win.
Meanwhile—
Cage, having left the training grounds, turned a corner and nearly bumped into a towering man with a purple cape.
He immediately stopped and saluted stiffly. "T-Teacher Zephyr!"
The legendary instructor turned his head slowly, sharp eyes locking onto Cage. His gaze immediately narrowed at the slight but unnatural bend in Cage's right arm.
"What happened to your arm?" Zephyr asked, his voice firm.
Cage froze. "Ah… that… well—"
He hesitated. Dignity as a rear admiral weighed heavily on him.
How could he admit he'd been injured… by a freshman?
But Zephyr's eyes sharpened further. "Cage. That sound earlier—was it from your training session?"
Cage's face turned red.
There was no way out.
In the end, he lowered his head and confessed everything—well, most of it.
Zephyr was stunned.
"You're saying a recruit… actually injured you?" His tone wasn't disbelief—it was the surprise of someone whose world just tilted slightly.
Cage nodded stiffly. "Yes, Teacher."
He didn't dare mention the fact that he'd even used a small layer of Armament Haki. That would only make it worse.
But even with that defense… his arm had still been injured.
"A freshman? I wonder how he compares to those I trained in the past..."
Zephyr suddenly laughed, his interest clearly piqued. But when he saw Cage's expression, his face darkened.
"Have you been slacking off since graduation? Even a freshman can injure you now? What kind of disgrace is this? Run three thousand laps around Marine Headquarters! Don't stop until you're done!"
Zephyr's scolding made Cage tremble instinctively, as if old memories of being tormented by his instructor resurfaced. The corners of his mouth twitched as he forced a smile.
"Teacher, I'm a Rear Admiral now... does this still—"
"I can't command you anymore, is that it?" Zephyr's glare cut him off.
"...Yes, Instructor!"
Cage reflexively saluted, then turned and began running.
But as he rounded the first corner, his expression turned bitter.
Three thousand laps... if I don't finish by tomorrow, I won't get a wink of sleep tonight!
"Hmph!"
Zephyr snorted in dissatisfaction. A major general, actually bested by a freshman? He was clearly out of shape!
Still... such a promising seedling among the new recruits? That stirred his curiosity.
When Zephyr went to investigate, however, the freshmen had already dispersed.
He came up empty-handed.
But he didn't mind. The training camp was his domain—so long as the boy was still here, there was nowhere to hide.
And just as Cage said, this freshman would soon be invited into the elite camp as a special case.
Only the elite camp could properly mold such talent.
Thinking this, Zephyr smiled, then turned and returned to the elite camp.
There, the elite recruits eyed him curiously, hoping to hear news from the boot camp. But Zephyr said nothing, and none dared ask.
The next day, Boot Camp.
Yuno and the other freshmen were undergoing basic physical training.
As they trained, a large group—at least a thousand strong—suddenly poured in from the boot camp gates.
When they spotted the new recruits, they paused momentarily, then their expressions shifted.
A pockmarked young man grinned.
"Well, well... the new class is already here? That was fast!"
"Heh, this is going to be fun."
"Every year, this is the best part of boot camp!"
"Think this batch will try to rebel?"
"Hahaha! That'd make it even better!"
These were veterans—recruits who had already spent months, some even years, in training.
They were the so-called senior trainees.