The training plaza of the G–17 Branch was so scorching-hot the air felt like it could spark into flame.
Hundreds of soldiers, bare-chested, were pushing themselves through near self-harming levels of physical training. Sweat streamed down their reddened skin, pooling at their feet and turning the hard-packed ground slick.
There were no instructors cracking whips. No rousing slogans about fighting for justice.
The only thing driving them to squeeze every last drop of strength out of their bodies like rabid dogs was a single word:
Desire.
Every time they sweated, their brains automatically converted it into the Beli they might earn later. If you wanted to steal a kill, you had to run faster than everyone else. If you wanted to survive a chaotic melee long enough to get paid, you had to be crueler than everyone else.
Smoker stood on the platform, two cigars clenched between his teeth. Wrapped in smoke, his expression looked bored—almost annoyed.
Sure, he cursed loudly and waved his seastone jitte around to scare the slackers, but the resentment boiling inside him wasn't really aimed at these soldiers.
"Tch, that bastard…"
Smoker blew out a thick cloud of smoke, irritably glancing toward the southeast sky. "Saying he's 'scouting' that dangerous Merveille… I bet it's just an excuse to go have some private time with Gion."
As a classmate, he knew exactly how monstrous Rain was. Forget some "beast island"—you could toss Rain into Impel Down Level Six and the guy would probably still thrive.
Worrying that Rain might get hurt?
Smoker figured it made more sense to worry whether the island's ecosystem would survive Rain.
"Leaving me here to guard the gate while he takes a beauty out for a joyride… What a heartless commanding officer."
While Smoker was still grumbling internally—
The training ground, which had been under blazing sun, suddenly went dark.
A massive, irregular shadow spread outward from above, rapidly engulfing the entire port and plaza.
"Th-that… what is that?!"
The soldiers doing push-ups froze in terror and looked up.
The next second, everyone's mouths fell open, pupils shrinking hard.
High above—several hundred meters in the air—a gigantic chunk of rocky island, as large as a major warship, was hovering there in defiance of gravity!
The sheer visual pressure of that enormous slab hanging overhead was suffocating.
"It's… it's flying?!"
"That kind of power—don't tell me—"
One veteran suddenly remembered last month's newspaper headline. His face turned paper-white, voice trembling. "It's Golden Lion! The Flying Pirate—Golden Lion Shiki!!"
"He broke out of Impel Down last month! He's here to take revenge on the Navy!!"
Panic detonated through the crowd. For soldiers stationed in the first half of the Grand Line, the name Golden Lion was legendary, despair-level terror.
"No panicking! Raise your rifles! Prepare for battle!"
Smoker was shaken too, but he'd been through enough storms with Rain that he reacted fast. His legs turned to smoke jets; he shot into the sky, seastone jitte clenched, ready to face a legendary enemy.
But before he even reached the height of the floating rock, a familiar voice drifted down lazily from above:
"Smoker, tell everyone to spread out. This thing isn't huge, but if it drops, it'll still kill plenty."
"R-Rain?!" Smoker forcibly halted midair, eyes wide.
On the edge of the floating rock, two figures stood against the wind.
Rain sat on a jutting outcropping, his coat flapping, a liquor flask in hand—two old-fashioned longswords laid across his knees.
Beside him, Gion wore her Justice coat. Fine beads of sweat dotted her forehead; controlling a rock this large was clearly still a strain for her. One hand pressed forward in midair, and as her palm slowly pushed down, the floating rock obediently began to descend.
"Rumble—RUMBLE—!!!"
The huge mass shoved aside the air with a deep, heavy roar.
When it finally hovered a dozen or so meters above the sea just outside the harbor, then slammed into the water, the surge it kicked up nearly flipped the patrol ships moored nearby!
Sea water surged back, mist rising in thick clouds.
When the spray cleared, a brand-new "artificial island reef" had appeared out of nowhere beside the G–17 Branch.
"T-this… this is—"
Smoker dropped onto the plaza, staring at it like his brain had stopped working. "You two… weren't you 'scouting'? How did you bring a whole island back?! And Gion—you can fly now?!"
"Not only can she fly," Rain said, hopping down with a grin, "she can move mountains too."
He casually tossed the two named swords in his hand to the arriving adjutant, Colonel Moore.
"Catch. Find the best maintenance guy you've got. Clean them up and take proper care of them."
Moore fumbled and barely caught both swords. His palms stung—the killing intent that came with a famed blade. Even with the owner dead, the murderous aura clinging to the steel hadn't faded.
"T-this… this is—" Moore stared at the lion-head motif on the hilt. His pupils shrank to pinpoints, his voice cracking. "O-Oto…?! Kogarashi?!"
As a seasoned Marine, how could he not recognize them?!
These were Great Grade Blades—one of the Twenty-One—the twin swords the "Flying Admiral" Golden Lion had treasured like his life!
"That's right," Rain said calmly. "They were indeed the personal blades of the Flying Admiral—Golden Lion Shiki."
He straightened his collar and turned to the soldiers, who were still holding their rifles in a daze.
His voice was calm and solemn—no boasting, just stating a fact.
"Scouting complete. We ran into a bit of an… 'accident.'"
"We happened to meet Golden Lion—fresh out of prison—looking for a new territory."
He pointed at the two swords. "But don't worry. He won't be coming to take revenge."
"Because Golden Lion Shiki—has officially met his end today."
Silence.
The entire G–17 Branch fell into a dead silence that lasted a full ten seconds.
Everyone wondered if their ears had broken.
Golden Lion? The legendary flying pirate who'd nearly destroyed half of Marineford?
He'd escaped less than a month ago—and now he was dead?!
Killed by their base commander?!
"And there's more," Rain added, gesturing toward Gion, who was still adjusting her breathing. A faint curve lifted at the corner of his mouth.
"Golden Lion's Float-Float Fruit has been inherited by Major General Gion. From today onward—the sky is our territory too."
"BOOM—!!"
This time it wasn't an explosion.
It was the shriek of thousands of soldiers cheering themselves hoarse—an eruption of fanatic devotion from the depths of their souls.
In this era where strength ruled the seas, nothing made people feel safer—or prouder—than following a commander who could slay a legend.
Staring at those two blades that symbolized an old era… staring at the chunk of island hauled back by force…
In that moment, Rain's authority in G–17 hit its absolute peak—so high it even eclipsed the Marine Headquarters itself in their hearts.
~~~
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