"There is no need, Master Rowan."
Feeling the heavy killing intent radiating from Rowan, Zephyr's expression turned bitter, his weathered face filled with helplessness. He knew his teacher's strength better than anyone. Although he respected and idolized Rowan from the bottom of his heart, Zephyr also knew that Rowan's personal combat power had only ever peaked at the level of an elite Marine Headquarters Vice Admiral.
But the individual who had attacked his warship years ago was simply too powerful. Even now, recalling that man's raw, monstrous strength caused Zephyr's heart to palpitate with fear. He remembered vividly how, despite giving his absolute all, he had been unable to protect that ship full of disciples. Even he had lost an arm to that man's blade.
It was all because his strength had been insufficient. If he had possessed the combat power of Garp or Sengoku back then, that tragedy would never have occurred.
For years, Zephyr had dreamed of that scene countless times. Every time he woke from a nightmare, his heart was consumed by endless remorse. If a powerhouse of that level was someone even he couldn't withstand, how could Master Rowan, whose peak was only that of a Vice Admiral, possibly stand a chance?
Furthermore, Master Rowan had been retired for decades. Now that he was a hundred years old, how much of his strength could possibly remain? At his age, forget that man calling himself "Whitebeard Jr."—the Old Man might not even be a match for Zephyr's own disciples, Ain and Binz.
"Since it is my enemy, I must be the one to settle it personally," Zephyr said, a flash of murderous resolve crossing his face.
The reason he had asked the Marines' greatest scientist, Vegapunk, to build the "Battle Smasher" mechanical arm was specifically to find that man again and personally avenge his lost limb and slaughtered students.
"Fine, let's not speak of that for now," Rowan said, waving his hand as he retracted his killing intent.
He knew this "little guy's" impression of him was still stuck on the aged version of himself from over a decade ago. It was clear Zephyr didn't believe he could help resolve a threat from a man so powerful that even the World Government wanted to recruit him as a Warlord.
Raising his pipe for a light puff, Rowan slowly exhaled and looked at the recruits gathered nearby. "By the way, Zephyr-boy, what are you doing all the way out here with a bunch of raw recruits?"
From what Rowan knew, Zephyr usually trained recruits at the Marine Headquarters training grounds, putting them through hellish fundamental drills. Even when they left the base, they typically only went to islands near Marineford to fight wild beasts. This sea, however, was at the entrance of the Grand Line—a significant distance from Headquarters. The Grand Line was fraught with danger; bringing a group of green recruits this far, even with Zephyr leading them, was a risky move.
Zephyr grinned, a flicker of killing intent passing through his eyes. "We're here to intercept a group of pirates and conduct a final graduation test for these recruits."
"Once they pass this test, these boys will have earned the right to graduate from this year's training camp."
There was one thing Zephyr didn't tell Rowan: this class was the last one he intended to lead for the Marines. Once these boys graduated, he planned to find Sengoku, resign as Chief Instructor, and focus entirely on leading his "Guerilla Unit" to hunt pirates across the sea.
The reason wasn't that he felt too old to lead recruits, but because he had recently heard a rumor: the World Government intended to recruit the man who had severed his arm to become one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
Having never had much affection for the World Government to begin with, Zephyr lost the last shred of his trust in them upon hearing this. To recruit a man who had slaughtered a ship full of young Marines? Was the World Government so desperate to consolidate their power that they would ignore everything else? Zephyr was building his Guerilla Unit to cultivate his own strength and eventually break away from the World Government.
However, since his unit was still in its infancy and needed time to grow, he had only shared this plan with his most trusted disciples, Ain and Binz. He didn't intend to tell Master Rowan—not because of a lack of trust, but because he didn't want his elderly teacher to be burdened by his struggles.
"Hunting pirates?" Rowan raised an eyebrow. "You're going to let these green recruits fight battle-hardened pirates on the Grand Line?"
"You need to realize, Zephyr-boy, these recruits are the Navy's treasures. If the casualties are too high, you'll have a hard time answering to Sengoku."
A life-and-death battle with pirates was fundamentally different from a training ground. Since when had this kid become so ruthless with his students? In the past, he had always tried to minimize recruit casualties.
Zephyr laughed. "Don't worry, Master Rowan. I've already gathered all the intel on this crew. The captain of the 'Ogre Pirates' only has a bounty of 53 million Berries; he's nothing I can't handle. With me standing guard, I won't let anything happen to these kids. Everything is under control!"
Seeing Zephyr's confidence, Rowan didn't press further. He chuckled and sat down on a lounge chair Binz had brought for him. "Since you're so sure of yourself, let the Old Man see what kind of soldiers a Chief Instructor like you can produce."
"Rest assured, Master Rowan. I won't fail your expectations!" Zephyr guaranteed loudly, patting his chest.
Suddenly, Rowan pointed to Luffy and Zoro. "Wait. Let these two little guys go along as well. It'll be good practice for them."
"Them?" Zephyr looked at Zoro and Luffy. Though they were young, his training camp had recruits of the same age. He nodded. "Fine, let them join. I'd also like to see what kind of strength the Master's new disciples can display."
Rowan gave a faint smile and turned to the two. "You two brats, don't you dare embarrass the Old Man in front of everyone."
"Don't worry, Great-Grandpa!" Luffy grinned, cracking his knuckles. Zoro's gaze turned instantly steely as he tightened his grip on his blades.
Leaving Rowan's side, Zephyr's expression shifted, his voice turning cold and grim. "Ain, pass down the order. Proceed to Kust Island at once!"
At that moment, Zephyr had no way of knowing.
On their target, Kust Island, a modest bamboo raft had drifted onto the shore. On the raft were only two people.
One was a short, blonde old woman. The other was a massive young man with an upward-curving, crescent-shaped white mustache even more exaggerated than Whitebeard's own.
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