The Greatest Disgrace in Marine History-Chapter 155 - 57: The Meaning of Being First

"You flatter me, Captain Yamakaji," she replied with a soft smile.

Then, both stepped forward, bowing formally in sync.

"Thank you for the match."

It was the way of the sword.

Just as the two prepared to rest, a low rumble echoed from far beyond the dojo windows.

"It's started again..."

Yamakaji sighed and stepped toward the window, peering out.

In the distance, across the vast training grounds, sand and dust whipped through the air.

A lone, towering figure moved steadily through the blazing midday sun—shirtless, sweat glistening on his scar-covered muscles. He was dragging, inch by inch, a massive decommissioned warship by hand, its hull tethered to thick black iron chains clutched in his fists.

The heat was unbearable. The world outside seemed to boil under the sun's unforgiving glare.

The man's bronzed skin shimmered with sweat, highlighting the sharp contours of his body.

What shocked Yamakaji most was that with each step the man took, the ground beneath him trembled. Dust and grit bounced lightly with every motion.

A ship so heavy it normally required hundreds of men to pull—was being dragged forward by a single man. Its keel carved a deep trench into the dry earth.

From a distance, the three-meter-tall man seemed no bigger than an ant beside the twenty-meter-tall ship.

"Commander Gion... was Darren training like this even back when he was stationed in the North Blue?"

Yamakaji's throat was dry as he spoke.

He still remembered the first time he'd witnessed Darren training in private—everyone in the camp had been stunned. Even the battle-hardened Zephyr had looked like he'd seen a ghost.

And yet, even now... the sight was just as overwhelming.

"No."

Gion's gaze remained locked on the monstrous figure radiating the wild presence of a beast. Her voice was soft, conflicted.

"...What?"

Yamakaji blinked and turned to her.

"In the North Blue," she said, "the ship he dragged was only half that size."

Yamakaji: "..."

He gulped audibly.

"Don't let it get to you."

Gion caught the look of frustration and dismay in his eyes and tried to reassure him.

"That guy's a monster."

Yamakaji let out a weary sigh and nodded.

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Gion pulled off her indigo uniform top and walked out of the dojo, leaving him alone.

Silence.

Then... Yamakaji chuckled to himself.

"You say 'don't let it get to you'... but clearly, it gets to you too."

From below, he could hear the sounds of heavy weights being lifted.

It was Gion—training further, working on her physical strength after an intense kendo match.

Taking a deep breath, Yamakaji wrapped the bloodied blisters on his palms with fresh bandages. He picked up a new wooden sword... and resumed his training.

Sweat poured like rain. Blood seeped through the bandages.

But he didn't stop.

He immersed himself in swordsmanship, grinding forward on the path of strength.

---

At the same time—

Inside the Combat training hall—

Soaked in sweat, Kuzan watched the figure in the distance with admiration gleaming in his eyes.

"Damn, Darren... you're seriously cool. I gotta step it up too."

He turned to Tokikake, who lay crumpled on the ground nearby—bruised, battered, and panting like a dog.

"Let's keep going."

Tokikake let out a soul-wrenching wail.

"You can train all you want! Just don't drag me into it!!"

---

And it wasn't just them.

In the armory, the endurance gym, the strength chambers—across the entire camp—

Marines clenched their jaws and pushed harder.

That man—Darren—who was already inhumanly strong, continued to train like a beast day after day, rain or shine, never missing a beat.

Their top student wasn't resting—so how could they afford to?

---

Chief Instructor's Office.

"Did you hear that, Sengoku?"

Zephyr smiled proudly at the man before him.

Sengoku, listening with Observation Haki, could hear the deep tremors and shifting weight from across the field. His expression turned contemplative.

"It's not just strength," he said. "He's inspiring the others too. Mentally, spiritually... he's leading them forward."

"Maybe this is what it really means to be number one."

Sengoku sighed.

"Who would've thought Darren would transform the training camp like this..."

Zephyr let out a snort, his smile twitching slightly.

He still remembered the first generation of the training camp—chaos incarnate.

Sakazuki had cut his training short, eager to hunt down pirates, taking a squad of like-minded brutes with him.

The rest? With Borsalino as top student... their so-called training was basically child's play.

"Maybe... this class will be the strongest we've ever had."

Zephyr chuckled.

"By the way, Sengoku—what brings you to my office today?"

Sengoku waved a hand casually.

"Nothing much. Just wanted to check in on the trainees..."

He paused. His voice grew cautious.

"How's Darren's progress been lately?"

"Not bad," Zephyr replied easily. "That kid trains like a man possessed. His mastery of Armament Haki's improving fast—and its strength is increasing steadily. You saw it yourself—he trains like a damn wild beast. But... wait."

Zephyr's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Why do you care? You never ask about the training camp. What are you scheming this time?"

Caught red-handed, Sengoku gave a sheepish smile and coughed.

"Well... truth is, I have a special mission. And I need to borrow someone."

Zephyr's eyes darkened.

"Who?"

"Darren."

"Absolutely not!"

"..."

---

To be continued...