A few days before setting sail, I headed down to the Science Division to pick up my "temporary" gear.
I'd made my peace with the "Assistant to the Vice Admiral's Aide" thing mostly because arguing with the Navy's top brass is a great way to get a "Fist of Love" straight to the cranium.
"Since you requested weight and durability, we used a high-compression iron process," the lead engineer said, signaling a heavy-duty lift as a dull, metallic-grey hexagonal mace and a thick breastplate were brought out. "It might be a bit hefty, though. It clocked in at just over five tons."
I stepped forward and gripped the mace. The diameter was perfect—slender enough for a firm one-handed grip, yet so dense it felt like I was holding a piece of a dying star. I stepped back and gave it a few experimental swings.
Whoosh. Whoosh.
"Yeah, this'll work. Nice and sturdy."
I looked up to thank the engineers, only to find them staring at me with expressions of pure horror. Apparently, when you say "make it heavy," people don't expect you to treat a 5,000kg bar of metal like a conductor's baton. One of them actually muttered, "Is he even human?"
"Hey, I heard that!" I barked, but they just handed me a copy of my original request form—the one where I'd asked for the exploding spears and diamond fists—as if to say, 'You're the one who asked for the crazy stuff.'
I slung the mace over my shoulder and headed to the training grounds to break it in.
The Training Ground
I rounded the corner of the main arena, only to stop dead in my tracks.
"Well now, Krieg. Come to get some training in? Good timing. I could use a warm-up."
Standing there was the Red Ghost himself—the future Admiral "Akainu," Sakazuki.
Oh, shit. I should have come later.
Strictly speaking, we were "peers" in the sense that we'd joined around the same time, though the age gap was significant.
He and Borsalino were in their late twenties/early thirties now, and while I'd barely scraped my way to Second Lieutenant, these two monsters were already Captains.
"I'm not fighting a Magma Monster today," I grumbled. "I'm here to test my new gear. I don't want you melting it before I've even used it."
Sakazuki narrowed his eyes. "Hmph. Weapons are made to be broken. Tell you what—if you win this sparring match, I'll grant you one request."
"And if I lose, you'll probably order me into your unit," I countered.
"What's the matter? Are you afraid, brat?"
"HAH?! Bring it on! Don't come crying to me when I cave in that fancy red suit!"
A Certain Captain's Perspective (Sakazuki)
Easily provoked, as always...
I watched the brat head to the edge of the ring, clutching his new grey mace. It was a pity his personality was so abrasive, but his drive was undeniable.
I remember seeing him years ago—a child in a Marine uniform, training until his body literally gave out. It was a level of fanaticism that even I found excessive.
He's mastered Haki and Rokushiki under Zephyr. He's exactly the kind of "Absolute Justice" asset the Marines need. Garp might have snatched him up for this mission, but I intend to use this wager to ensure he ends up under my command next.
"One-fall match," the referee announced. "The match ends when a decisive blow is landed or one party surrenders."
Krieg took his stance. He looked like he wanted to run away, but pride kept him anchored.
"START!"
The Battle
I didn't give him a second to breathe. I lunged forward, swinging the mace in a massive overhead strike. Sakazuki started to move as if to parry, but his instincts kicked in at the last second. He blurred away using Soru.
BOOM!!!
The mace didn't just hit the ground; it detonated it. A massive crater blossomed where he'd stood a millisecond before.
"Tch. You noticed," I spat. I was hoping he'd think the thinner mace was lighter than my old pillar.
"Are you trying to kill me?!" Sakazuki roared, glaring at the crater. "That thing is definitely heavier than before!"
"Five tons of compressed hate! Take this!!"
I unleashed a whirlwind of strikes—vertical splits, horizontal sweeps, diagonal slashes. With the old iron pillar, Sakazuki would have just melted the weapon on contact.
But this compressed alloy was different. It held its shape even against his heat, and the sheer momentum of five tons moving at high speeds meant that even in his Logia form, the shockwaves were rattling him.
Recognizing that melee was a bad idea, Sakazuki leaped back, turning the ground beneath him into a pool of bubbling lava.
"Great Eruption!"
He began firing volleys of molten rock at me.
"Hot! Hot! I'm gonna die! (Not really!)"
I batted away the magma chunks with the mace, but I couldn't get close. I needed a ranged option. I jammed the mace into the ground and focused.
In the original story, there was a move called "Tobu Shigan" (Flying Finger Pistol). If you could throw a kick that cuts the air (Rankyaku), you could surely throw a punch that creates a shockwave.
I pulled my fists back, coating them in obsidian-black Haki.
"Long-Range... CANNON FIST! QUAD FIRE!!"
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!
I launched four concentrated bursts of pressurized air. It wasn't a rocket punch, but the sheer force cleared the path through the lava.
While he was momentarily stunned by the new technique, I used Soru to close the gap instantly.
"Twin Cannon Fist: Point Blank—" "GREAT ERUPTION!!"
Our attacks collided in a deafening roar of pressure and heat. I was just about to pull my trump card—
"THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!!"
CRUNCH! SMASH!
A golden light descended from the heavens. A massive, palm-shaped shockwave slammed into the center of the arena, flattening both Sakazuki and me into the dirt.
I wheezed, lifting my head. Standing over us was Admiral Sengoku, looking like he was about to have an aneurysm.
Next to me, the Red Ghost was face-down in a puddle of his own cooling magma. Pfft. Serves him right.
"ARE YOU TRYING TO LEVEL THE ENTIRE HEADQUARTERS?!" Sengoku bellowed. "LOOK AT THIS MESS!"
We looked around. The training ground looked like a war zone. The floor was a Swiss cheese of craters and lava pools, the walls were scarred with deep gouges, and the air smelled like scorched ozone and burnt rubber.
"HE STARTED IT!!" we both shouted, pointing at each other simultaneously.
"I don't care! It's a collective responsibility! Both of you—clean this up and fix the flooring! NOW!"
After hours of grueling manual labor under the watchful eye of a very grumpy Sengoku, the arena was... mostly usable.
"Hey, Krieg," Sakazuki said, wiping soot from his brow. "That match ended in a draw. How about we both agree to one favor from the other? Within reason."
"Fine by me," I grumbled. "As long as your favor isn't 'Go stand in a volcano for an hour.'"
We shook on it—two future powerhouses of the Marines, standing amidst the ruins of a training ground. I'd survived a bout with a future Admiral, and my gear held up.
Now, it's time for the East Blue. Gin, Pearl... wait for me. Your new boss is coming, and he's bringing a five-ton stick.