Marineford, the Marine Headquarters.
The imposing fortress of justice stood proudly in the center of the island, with a seagull sculpture symbolizing peace spreading its wings atop the fortress.
In front of the fortress was a massive crescent-shaped plaza.
It was early summer, the scorching sun hanging high in the sky.
On the plaza, rows of Marines in blue and white uniforms were sweating profusely as they trained.
Endurance was built through weighted long-distance running.
Body resilience and combat adaptability were honed through wooden sword sparring.
High-intensity, high knee exercises were specifically for mastering the Marine technique, “Soru.”
Various physical training routines are repeated thousands of times.
Some soldiers, exhausted from the high-intensity training, collapsed on the ground.
At such times, military medics on standby rushed over for emergency aid.
After treatment and a brief rest, the soldiers would resume their rigorous training.
In this vast plaza, rarely could one see soldiers slacking off.
Failing to meet the instructors’ standards would result in these recruits from the Four Blues, the Grand Line, and the New World being sent back, losing their chance to join the headquarters and become elite warriors.
The Marines who passed rigorous selection to training at the headquarters were determined to seize this rare opportunity.
Not only did ranks and positions at the headquarters differ greatly from those at the branches, but the training resources and salaries provided at the headquarters were also far superior.
Here, if you performed well, opportunities for rapid promotion were plentiful!
At the center of the plaza, a square ring had been crudely set up with thick ropes and wooden posts.
The ring was large, and two agile new recruits stood on it, exchanging punches.
The sound of punches and kicks echoed continuously.
Although the two on the ring were only first-class soldiers, their speed and strength showed they were quite fit.
“Tsk tsk, this level of sparring is putting me to sleep. These new recruits are no good this year.”
Under a parasol beside the ring, several officers, either standing or sitting, watched the match.
One officer in a white coat, a headquarters captain, lay half-reclined on a deck chair, yawning, looking drowsy.
The other officers, either lieutenant commanders or captains, frowned at his laziness.
A stern-faced headquarters lieutenant commander on the left sneered, glancing at the captain.
“What’s this, Captain Dawes? Are you going to start bragging about that rookie from the North Blue again?”
“Rookie? Heh.”
Dawes chuckled, rising from his reclined position, a clear mocking smile on his face, retorting without hesitation:
“Bragging? No, my dear Lieutenant Commander Benjamin, I’m not bragging. I even suspect that the North Blue rookie you mentioned could beat you, a headquarters lieutenant commander.”
“What did you say?!”
With a loud bang, Benjamin slammed his hand on the table, cracking it, startling the surrounding officers and halting the sparring recruits.
He pointed at the reclining white-haired man smoking two thick cigars, angrily rebuking the higher-ranked Dawes.
Benjamin’s confidence stemmed from Dawes being a medical officer, not a combat officer, despite being higher in rank.
Medical officers held high status but lacked the combat prowess of battle-hardened commanders.
In this world, strength commanded respect, even within the Marines.
Powerful individuals naturally garnered respect.
For instance, despite being of the same rank as Benjamin, Lieutenant Commander Smoker was respected even by higher-ranked officers due to his superior strength and Logia abilities.
“Uh? You dare speak to your superior like that, my dear Lieutenant Commander Benjamin, are you…”
“Feeling itchy?”
Dawes grinned, standing up slowly, towering over Benjamin.
Benjamin’s face turned even darker at Dawes’ condescending attitude.
“You’re only one rank above me. Since when did you become my superior? I serve directly under Vice Admiral Dalmatian—”
“Enough.”
Dawes gestured for a pause, then exaggeratedly cupped his ear.
“Vice Admiral Dalmatian? Did I hear that right? My dear Benjamin, if you say that, I must mention I’m the ship doctor for Admiral Sakazuki. And Dalmatian is Admiral Sakazuki’s direct subordinate.”
Benjamin’s voice caught, his words dying in his throat.
His face turned red with anger, his body trembling.
Suddenly, he pointed at Dawes, shouting, “I don’t care about that! If you’re so confident, face me in the ring, one-on-one!”
As soon as he said this, Dawes’ smile widened.
“Are you serious? I don’t want to be accused of bullying a subordinate.”
His mocking tone only infuriated Benjamin more.
Without a word, Benjamin used Soru, disappearing from Dawes’ sight and reappearing in the ring.
He waved the recruits away and shouted, “Captain Dawes, I challenge you!”
His shout drew the attention of nearby recruits and instructors.
Instructors signaled for a break, bringing over excited recruits.
Dawes smiled, leisurely walking to the ring.
Smoker, still reclining, glanced at Benjamin with pity.
Would someone who regularly sailed with an admiral be weak?
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