After finishing his explanations, Rear Admiral Morgan hurried off—
the ambush incident wasn't something that would end so easily.
There were still piles of troublesome follow-up reports waiting for him.
Longinus walked toward the training camp, thinking as he went.
The camp was already bustling—
energetic new faces, mixed with a handful of half-dead veterans who looked like they'd been repeating for years.
The scene reminded Longinus of a place from that otherworldly soul's memory—
something called a university.
The difference between freshmen and seniors seemed oddly similar.
"Though… this place is a bit harsher.
Anyone who tries to slack off here ends up repeating a year—
or being kicked out outright. No exceptions."
"And if Morgan is right, maybe some of those government-sponsored brats never intended to advance.
Fighting pirates means risking your life.
They're just here to gild their résumés, not to bleed."
Longinus shook his head.
No point thinking about meaningless things.
"Anyway, the first thing I should do is—"
Before he could finish the thought, he spotted a table under a tree,
with a huge banner reading NEW STUDENT REGISTRATION.
Longinus couldn't help but laugh softly.
"It's becoming more and more like the world in my memories."
Under the shade sat a pony-tailed girl, bored out of her mind.
A bit of baby fat on her cheeks—
by that otherworld's standards, probably an easy eight out of ten.
The moment she saw Longinus approaching with that gentle smile,
her springtime maiden's heart nearly detonated.
It couldn't be helped.
In the world of pirates, women were fine—
but men…
The art style tended toward the severely impolite.
Putting it nicely, most men weren't easy on the eyes.
Putting it bluntly… they were a threat to public aesthetics.
And in the training camp, this tendency reached its peak.
If a man looked like Payne, that was considered normal.
Someone like Longinus?
An absolute premium-grade rarity.
The girl instantly straightened her posture, her smile sweetening by the second.
"Junior, are you here to register?"
Longinus inwardly rolled his eyes at the obvious question.
But he asked politely,
"I'm Longinus from G-2 Branch, here to report.
May I know which dormitory I'll be assigned to?"
"Longinus? The Longinus who saved an entire warship?"
The pony-tail girl gasped, covering her mouth.
When that bloodstained G-8 warship arrived earlier, it caused an uproar.
Many people ran to ask the soldiers what had happened,
and with Gregory and the others adding fuel to the fire,
the rumor became:
A heroic Marine, mighty and fearless, saved everyone alone.
The pony-tailed girl had been amazed back then,
but she never expected the legend to appear before her so soon.
"Oh no…
Not only is he handsome, he's strong too!
I need to escort him to the dorm immediately.
If the others come back first, they'll steal this job right out of my hands!"
With that crisis-driven determination, she spoke briskly,
"Junior, come with me!
I'll take you to your dorm!"
It was abrupt, but Longinus didn't refuse.
He had no desire to stand around being stared at.
After guiding him, the girl waved reluctantly.
"Longinus… be sure to come find me again!"
Longinus sighed helplessly and entered the dormitory.
It was a four-person room.
The other three were familiar faces.
"Boss, you're finally here!
Come on—your bed's already set up!" Gregory said excitedly.
"You did all this for me? I appreciate it."
"This is nothing!
If not for you, Boss, we wouldn't have earned a Second-Class Merit right off the bat!"
Abraham grinned.
"You didn't see their faces—
all those HQ rookies who used to look down on us?
Once they heard every one of us got a Second-Class Merit,
their eyes almost fell out!
Jealousy written all over their faces!"
"HQ rookies?" Longinus raised an eyebrow.
Penyon—or "Payne"—explained seriously,
"Longinus, here's how it works:
Our cohort has 400 recruits.
Each Grand Line branch sends nine.
All Four Seas combined send nineteen.
And Headquarters directly fills about 300 slots.
G-8's three lost seats will also be filled by HQ candidates."
He added,
"If you don't count the 200+ repeaters from last year,
that's our class."
Gregory continued,
"Basically—HQ rookies sit at the top of the contempt chain.
Four Seas rookies at the bottom.
We Grand Line rookies from the branches…
stuck awkwardly in the middle."
"That's not even the worst part," he grumbled.
"Some HQ loudmouths said our class has three monster-level newcomers.
And they placed you, Boss, in third place!"
"They even said the only reason you made the list
was because your fame was too big to ignore.
I was so pissed I fought them on the spot.
But those HQ people? All bark, no bite!
Five of them together still lost to me!"
Gregory puffed out his chest proudly.
Abraham snorted,
"That's only because you can fly."
But he nodded.
"Still, you're right about one thing—
those HQ rookies aren't impressive.
If they came to G-2,
they wouldn't even make the initial selection."
Longinus smiled lightly.
"If they're willing to rank me at all, that's already considerate of them.
But now I'm curious—
who are the other two?"
Gregory answered,
"One of them is HQ's poster child—
a swordswoman whose skill has already reached the Swordmaster level."
His expression quickly shifted into shameless excitement.
"And she's supposed to be a super beauty.
HQ rookies are obsessed with her.
Honestly, Boss, I can't wait to see their faces
when she inevitably falls for your charisma instead—"
Longinus ignored the nonsense and nodded.
"A true Swordmaster?
That level is rare even in HQ.
No wonder they think she surpasses me."
Abraham added,
"And she's only ranked second."
"Then who's first?"
Longinus asked, genuinely intrigued.
Gregory sighed in envy.
"They say he's like me—
a Zoan user.
But not just any Zoan…
A Mythical Zoan."
His voice carried deep longing.
"Those are rarer than Logias…
We're not even on the same level."
Longinus's expression grew a shade more serious.
In that otherworldly memory,
Logias had a few embarrassing exceptions…
but Mythical Zoans?
Every single one was a monster.
(Well… except a certain A-grade knockoff chicken-man who had to die.)
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