Late at night, G-5 base was still brightly lit. Compared to the daytime frenzy, however, it now carried a dreamlike, almost lazy atmosphere.
Blake walked along the gravel path leading to the recruits' dormitory.
In his arms were three heavy, still faintly warm [Renzo Gold Tokens]. In his other hand, he tightly gripped a transfer order stamped with a red seal, personally issued by Rehn.
He walked slowly, each step firm.
For some reason, this ordinary gravel road felt far smoother and warmer than the muddy, garbage-filled street of his hometown.
Blake's gaze drifted.
Just a few days ago, he had been an unnoticed "odd recruit" in the logistics unit, hauling supplies by day and sweating through endless sword practice by night.
Now, he had suddenly become a Commander of G-5, the most powerful and wealthy military force on the seas.
"Commander…"
He murmured the word, a faint smile appearing on his lips.
In his understanding, that rank required a lifetime of struggle, perhaps stepping over countless corpses.
But here, under the will of a man named Renzo, three days of battle and proof of "efficiency" had been enough.
"Fifty million Beli a year…"
Blake stopped and looked up at the full moon.
Fifty million.
He remembered when he was ten, fighting three vagrants over half a piece of bread that fell into a gutter, getting two ribs broken, and shivering in the cold for three days.
Back then, his dream was simple: one full meal a day and a patch-free shirt.
Now?
He could buy ten thousand loaves of bread… or build a mansion on the island that once cast him out.
"So this is… what it feels like to follow the strong?"
He inhaled the salty sea breeze.
For the first time in his life, it tasted sweet.
"Look! It's 'Ghost Sword' Blake!!"
As soon as he appeared at the dormitory entrance, the quiet hallway exploded.
Faces popped out of windows, doorways, and even rafters.
Admiration. Awe. Jealousy. Fanatical worship.
"That's him! The guy who one-shot a 180-million bounty pirate on Icefield Island!"
"He's a Commander now… he's only been here a year!"
"Fifty million salary… I almost threw away my 200,000 participation prize earlier!"
A group of recruits, who once mocked him as a "training-obsessed blockhead", now rushed forward with forced smiles.
"Commander Blake! Congratulations!"
"Sir, try some specialty food from my hometown!"
"Sir, need someone to carry your bags?"
Blake simply nodded.
He understood.
This was the dignity that came with strength.
In G-5, if you're strong enough, everyone becomes your friend.
Inside the dorm, the air smelled of sweat and cheap tobacco.
Twelve-man shared room. Spacious but rough.
The moment Blake entered, his roommates jumped up in perfect unison.
"Blake!"
The dorm leader, a bearded man, stammered nervously.
"No! Commander Blake, sir!"
All twelve bowed deeply.
Blake smiled faintly. "No need. We're roommates."
"Are you kidding?!"
One roommate, nicknamed "Quick Hands," rushed forward excitedly.
"You were insane on the broadcast! That 'Ghost Slash', felt like it split the screen!"
Another pulled out a bottle of cheap liquor.
"We've never met a Commander before… and now one lives with us!"
Blake looked at their familiar faces.
The dorm was crude, but it was the first place that ever felt like home.
"I'm here to pack," he said.
He walked to his bed.
Just a worn bundle… and a wooden practice sword.
"Rehn said we move to the officer district tonight."
"Officer district…"
Everyone inhaled sharply.
That place was legend.
A villa complex in the forest. Private training grounds. Temperature-controlled baths. Personal attendants.
"That's where gods live…"
Blake rolled up his bedding and slung the wooden sword over his back.
He had almost nothing, because he once believed nothing belonged to him except his sword.
Now, he took these old things with him.
They were his roots.
"Take care," he said.
"One month from now… I'll do my best in the finals."
"Bring back the championship!! Grab that Dark-Dark Fruit too!!"
Amid cheers, Blake walked out, leaving behind his ordinary life.
Beyond the massive seastone barrier, Blake froze.
Before him lay a valley surrounded by glowing coral-like trees.
The air smelled of flowers instead of machine oil.
The ground was covered in soft blue-violet grass.
White villas dotted the forest, each with balconies… and private pools.
"This… is the officer district?"
He followed his order to "East-12."
The door opened automatically.
"Identity verified. Welcome home, Commander Blake."
Inside. A mansion. Crystal chandelier.
Sea King leather sofas so soft they swallowed him.
A full meal already prepared:
Perfectly grilled Sea King meat, golden fries, fresh salad… and fine wine labeled "G-5 Exclusive."
There was even a bookshelf filled with the latest manga.
"This… is my home?"
He sat down cautiously.
Then sank into the sofa.
"…It's too soft."
For someone who slept on hard boards and trash heaps,
This comfort felt unreal.
A marine attendant entered, carrying a pristine officer uniform.
"Sir, I am your personal attendant, Kobayashi. Bath is ready, 48.5°C, Lord Renzo's preferred temperature. Aromatherapy prepared."
Blake stared at the uniform.
At the gold insignia.
At the food.
Silence.
Then, he took a bite.
Juicy meat melted in his mouth.
"...So good…"
His eyes grew moist.
He remembered that white-haired man, lounging lazily on the high platform.
In three days, that man gave him everything he never dared dream of.
"Lord Renzo…"
Blake clenched his fist.
A fierce loyalty burned in his eyes.
"Anyone who dares disturb your nap…"
"I'll make breathing… a luxury for them."
Across the officer district, similar scenes played out.
"HAHAHA! This is living!!" roared Iron Fist Balg, soaking in a massive bath.
"Fifty gold bars… just a settling bonus?!" trembled Desert Fang Galon.
Every victor… had fallen.
Their ambitions were turning into something far more dangerous: Belonging and worship.
Deep within G-5, Renzo lay on a cloud bed above water.
Mermaids sang softly.
Uta scrolled through trending news.
Monet gently covered him with a blanket.
"Lord Renzo, all participants have settled in."
"99% bowed to your portrait upon entering."
"Mm…"
Renzo murmured, half-asleep.
"Good… now when I travel…"
"Someone can… carry my bags…"
Moonlight flowed.
G-5 slept, a paradise of wealth and madness.
And across the seas… its legend spread like wildfire.