The training grounds of the Pirate School stretched out like a vast battlefield carved from the island's rugged heart. Packed dirt and weathered stone formed a wide circular arena, ringed by tiered observation decks that rose high enough to give spectators a god's-eye view of the carnage below. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, churned earth, and the faint metallic tang of clashing wooden weapons. Hundreds of students already filled the space, their shouts and grunts blending into a chaotic symphony as they sparred in pairs or practiced elemental bursts that lit up the morning sky with flashes of fire, wind, and crackling lightning.
Ato stood at the edge of the main pit, still blinking sleep from his eyes. The white aura that had defined his Limit Breaker state was gone, leaving him feeling strangely hollow, like a kettle that had boiled dry. His body ached from the previous battles — ribs bruised, knuckles split, and a dull throb in his shoulder where Raiden's Palm Wrath had landed. Yet the fire in his chest hadn't dimmed. If anything, the sight of the training grounds made it burn brighter. This place wasn't just a school. It was a forge.
"Listen up!" Teacher Sabrina's voice cut through the noise like a whip crack. She stood on the raised platform, her silver whistle gleaming in the sun, her scarred face set in a permanent scowl. "The Drowned World doesn't care about your names. It cares about your strength! We are starting the Circle of Shadows. No killing, no permanent maiming — but everything else is fair game! If you lose your badge, you lose your rank!"
The students erupted into a frenzy of movement. Wooden staves clashed, practice swords whistled through the air, and bursts of elemental power scorched the ground. King, the red-haired hothead from the classroom, was already in the center of the main pit, swinging a heavy iron practice sword that cut the air with a low whine. His messy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, and his grin was all teeth — cocky, hungry, and ready for blood.
Beside him stood his right-hand man, a tall, wiry boy with a shaved head and a pair of massive, curved scythes strapped to his back — the kind farmers used to cut through thick fields of sugar cane and wheat in a single sweep. The blades were polished to a deadly gleam, their edges serrated for maximum damage. Students called him Reaper, and he rarely spoke, letting his weapons do the talking.
King slammed the flat of his iron sword against the ground, sending a spray of dirt flying. "New meat! The melon-loving captain with ninety-three million on his head! Let's see if those coins are worth the paper they're printed on!"
Ato stepped into the pit, rolling his shoulders. The white aura began to hiss off his skin again, faint but steady. "Alright, let's do this. Who wants to go first?"
King didn't wait for an invitation. He leaped into the pit, iron sword raised high. "Me! I'll take the melon boy! Let's see if those 93 million are worth the paper they're printed on!"
The crowd roared. Students pressed against the railings, cheering and jeering as the two captains faced off. Sabrina blew her whistle once — sharp and final.
"Begin!"
King charged like a bull, his sword swinging in a wide, crushing arc that could have split a tree in two. Ato didn't dodge. He met the strike head-on, his fist wrapped in white energy. The collision sent a shockwave rippling through the dirt, kicking up a cloud of dust that momentarily blinded the nearest spectators.
"Ha! Not bad for a rookie!" King laughed, pressing the attack with a flurry of heavy swings. Each blow was raw power, the kind that relied on brute force and momentum.
Ato grinned, his eyes glowing. He weaved through the strikes, his movements fluid and instinctive. "You're strong, but you're slow." He slipped inside King's guard and delivered a short, sharp Black Bullet to the red-haired boy's stomach. The impact lifted King off his feet, sending him skidding back several yards.
The crowd gasped. King coughed, clutching his gut, but he was back on his feet in seconds, eyes blazing. "That's it? Come on, Beast! Show me more!"
Ato didn't need to be told twice. He charged, his white aura flaring brighter. The two clashed again — fist against sword, power against power. The ground trembled with every exchange, dirt flying as they traded blows that would have felled lesser fighters.
From the sidelines, Manjo watched with wide eyes, her lightning-coated leg twitching as if itching to join. "He's holding back… but he's smiling. That's Ato for you."
Kojo crossed his arms, a rare smirk tugging at his lips. "The captain's enjoying himself. Good. He needs to let loose after everything."
Lemon adjusted his glasses, dark gravity energy swirling around his hands as he analyzed the fight. "King's power is all brute force. Ato's instincts are better, but if King lands a clean hit…"
Faramis leaned against the railing, his goggles reflecting the flashes of white and iron. "Let them play. The real test comes when the school throws something harder at us."
In the pit, Ato ducked under a wild swing and countered with a spinning kick that caught King in the side. The red-haired boy stumbled, but he roared with laughter, swinging back with renewed fury. "You're fun! I like you, melon boy!"
The fight continued, the crowd growing louder with every clash. Sabrina watched from her platform, her scarred face impassive, but her eyes sharp. This "No Name" crew was already turning heads — and the day had only just begun.
As the spar drew to a close — Ato landing a final, controlled Beast Punch that sent King sprawling but not unconscious — the teacher blew her whistle again.
"Enough! King, you're down. Ato Dragonaid wins the first round. Next pair!"
King pushed himself up, grinning through the dirt on his face. "Not bad, captain. Rematch later. I want a real fight when you're not half-asleep."
Ato laughed, offering a hand to help him up. "Deal. But first… is there food around here? I'm starving."
The crowd erupted in laughter. Even Martis allowed a small, reluctant smirk. The Pirate School had just met its newest chaos-bringers, and the real training — the kind that forged kings or broke them — was only beginning.
King dusted himself off and stepped back, but his eyes never left Ato. "You're interesting, Dragonaid. But don't get cocky. Next time I'll show you what real gravity feels like."
Ato tilted his head. "Gravity?"
King grinned, raising his right hand. The air around him shimmered. A loose training dummy nearby suddenly lifted off the ground, floating upward as if caught in an invisible current. With a casual flick of his wrist, King sent the dummy hurtling toward Ato like a cannonball. Ato sidestepped at the last second, the dummy smashing into the dirt where he had stood.
"Psychic power," King said, cracking his knuckles. "I can lift, crush, or throw anything I want. And my partner Reaper here cuts through anything that gets in our way."
Reaper, the tall, wiry boy with the twin crop-scythes, stepped forward silently. The long, serrated blades gleamed in the sunlight, their edges designed to slice through thick stalks — or flesh — with terrifying efficiency. He didn't speak, but the way he twirled the scythes made it clear he was ready.
Ato's grin widened. "Sounds fun. Let's see what you've got."
The crowd leaned in, the energy in the arena shifting from casual sparring to something sharper. Sabrina tapped her ruler once, the sound cutting through the murmurs.
"King and Reaper versus the newcomer Ato. Circle of Shadows rules. Begin!"
King didn't waste time. He thrust his hand forward, and the ground beneath Ato's feet suddenly heaved upward as if grabbed by an invisible giant hand. Ato leaped sideways, but King was already following up, lifting a nearby stone pillar with his mind and hurling it like a missile.
Ato twisted mid-air, his white aura flaring as he punched the incoming pillar. The stone exploded into dust, but the force of the collision sent him skidding back. Reaper was already moving, his twin scythes spinning in a deadly whirlwind as he closed the distance. The blades whistled through the air, aiming to slice Ato's legs out from under him.
Ato dodged the first sweep, but the second caught his sleeve, tearing fabric and drawing a thin line of blood. "Not bad!" he laughed, the pain only fueling the fire in his chest. He countered with a Black Bullet, the compressed blast ripping toward Reaper. The scythe-wielder spun his blades, deflecting the energy with a shower of sparks, but the force still knocked him back several steps.
King laughed, his psychic power flaring brighter. "You're fast, but you can't dodge what you can't see coming!" He clenched his fist, and the air around Ato suddenly compressed, an invisible force trying to crush him from all sides.
Ato roared, his white aura exploding outward in a shockwave that shattered the psychic grip. "Not enough!" He charged straight at King, fist pulled back for a heavy strike.
Reaper intercepted, his scythes crossing in an X to block the punch. The impact sent vibrations through the blades and into Reaper's arms, but he held firm, using the momentum to spin and counter with a sweeping cut aimed at Ato's side.
Ato flipped backward, the blade whistling past his ribs. He landed lightly, breathing hard but grinning. "You two work well together. But I'm not fighting two — I'm fighting a team."
The crowd was on its feet now, cheering wildly. King and Reaper pressed the attack in perfect sync — King lifting debris and hurling it with his mind while Reaper closed in with his deadly scythes. Ato danced between the assaults, his movements a blur of white light and raw instinct. Every time King tried to pin him with gravity, Ato shattered the hold with a burst of aura. Every time Reaper's blades came close, Ato slipped inside and countered with short, devastating punches.
The fight stretched on, the arena floor becoming a mess of craters and shattered stone. Sweat poured down Ato's face, his muscles burning, but the grin never left his lips. King was breathing hard too, his psychic power starting to flicker as he pushed his limits. Reaper's scythes were moving slower, the edges nicked from blocking Ato's strikes.
Finally, Ato saw an opening. He feinted left, drawing Reaper's scythes away, then exploded toward King with a Beast Punch. King tried to lift a barrier of debris, but Ato smashed through it, his fist connecting solidly with the red-haired boy's chest. The impact sent King flying backward, crashing into the far wall of the pit with a heavy thud.
Reaper charged in desperation, both scythes raised for a final double slash. Ato caught the blades with his bare hands, the metal biting into his palms but not breaking his grip. With a roar, he twisted and slammed Reaper into the ground beside his partner.
The arena fell silent for a heartbeat. Then the students erupted in cheers and stunned whispers.
Sabrina blew her whistle, her voice carrying over the noise. "Round over! Ato Dragonaid wins!"
King pushed himself up, coughing but laughing. "Not bad, melon boy. You're stronger than you look. Rematch when I'm not holding back."
Reaper stood silently, wiping blood from his lip, but he gave Ato a small nod of respect.
Ato wiped sweat from his brow, his white aura fading as he caught his breath. "You guys are tough. I like that. Let's do it again sometime."
The crowd cheered louder. Even Martis, still leaning against his pillar, allowed a small, grudging smirk. The "No Name" crew had just made their first real impression on the Pirate School — and the day was only beginning.
As the students dispersed for the next round, Ato walked back to his crew, his steps lighter despite the bruises. Manjo handed him a water skin, her lightning still faintly crackling on her fingers. "You looked like you were having fun."
Ato grinned, taking a long drink. "It felt good to let loose. But we're not here to play. We're here to get stronger. All of us."
Kojo nodded, his hand resting on his swords. "Then we train hard. No excuses."
Lemon adjusted his glasses, a determined glint in his eyes. "I'll map out the best training routes. We'll turn this school upside down."
Faramis pushed his goggles up, already scribbling notes on a small pad. "I'll upgrade our gear. If the school has a workshop, I'll make sure we're ready for whatever comes next."
Poison remained quiet, but his sharp eyes scanned the training grounds, taking in every detail. "This place… it feels like it holds many secrets."
Ato looked at his crew — battered, tired, but united — and felt a surge of pride. The bounties, the Navy, the ruined island… it all felt distant now. Here, in this school of monsters and dreamers, they had a chance to grow.
"Alright," Ato said, his voice carrying the weight of a captain. "Let's make the most of this. We're not just surviving anymore. We're becoming the ones who change the Drowned World."
The crew nodded, their eyes shining with renewed purpose. The Pirate School had just welcomed its most chaotic class yet — and the real lessons were only beginning.