Marineford Military Port, G-3 Berth.
A giant warship with a dog-head figurehead was rising and falling with the waves.
Unlike the standard Marineford warships nearby, which were polished to a shine with ropes coiled meticulously, the first impression this ship gave was one of pure wildness.
The hull was covered in repair marks, looking like a series of medals.
There were no soldiers in neat formations on the deck; instead, there was a group of shirtless, scar-covered burly men.
When Kane stepped onto the deck of this legendary warship carrying a small luggage bag, he wasn't greeted by neat lines and sharp salutes, but by a wave of "male hormones"—a mixture of cheap rum, the aroma of roasted meat, and the pungent smell of sweat.
"Is this... really a Marine warship?"
Kane stopped and raised an eyebrow slightly.
The scene before him was truly eye-opening:
A bonfire was set up in the center of the deck, where several Marine soldiers were using their sabers to skewer and roast the thigh meat of some unknown sea beast, which was sizzling with grease; on the left turret, someone was using the warship's main cannon as a drying rack for their underwear; on the right, it was even more absurd—a group of people huddled in a circle, shouting with flushed faces, using Berries and even gold teeth as gambling stakes.
[Ding! Detected that the host is in an environment that "seriously violates the Marine Discipline and Appearance Regulations"!]
[Continuously gaining discipline points: +1 point per minute!]
Paradise!
This place was simply a paradise tailor-made for him!
"Ahem..."
Adjutant Bogard, who was responsible for leading Kane, adjusted the brim of his hat. On that poker face, which was usually as cold as iron, a rare trace of "embarrassment" flashed.
"Warrant Officer Kane, Vice Admiral Garp's unit... has a rather unconventional style. After all, they spend the entire year fighting high-level pirates like Roger in the New World, so the pressure is quite high."
"Unconventional? No."
Looking at this group of lawless fellows, Kane's mouth didn't show the slightest hint of disgust; instead, it gradually curled up until it revealed his signature white teeth.
"This is simply full of vitality, Colonel Bogard," Kane remarked from the bottom of his heart. "This is a man's romance! I love this atmosphere."
Bogard's mouth twitched. Great, another one's gone crazy.
"Puhahahaha! Kane brat, why are you just standing there?!"
Accompanied by a thunderous laugh, a hand as large as a cattail leaf fan slapped Kane hard on the back.
Slam!
With a dull thud, Kane felt his internal organs shift from that single slap. Even with the power of the Storm-Storm Fruit flowing through his body, his blood and Qi were sent churning.
Is this the Haki of a top-tier powerhouse? Even a slap on the back comes with a built-in armor-piercing effect?
Garp's mouth was stuffed with senbei, crumbs spraying everywhere. With his other hand, he grabbed a giant oak rum barrel from nearby and shoved it into Kane's arms without a word.
"Now that you're on my ship, don't be as lifeless as that old guy Sengoku! Come! Down this barrel first as your initiation drink!"
This whole barrel?
Kane looked at the barrel in his arms, which was thicker than his waist and held at least 5 liters of rum, and his eyes twitched.
The commotion here also caught the attention of the group of "soldier-thugs" on deck.
The Marines who were roasting meat and gambling stopped what they were doing and surrounded him one by one with unfriendly gazes.
Their eyes swept over Kane's overly handsome and tender-looking face, filled with scrutiny and rejection.
To these veterans who lived on the edge of a blade, an "elite young master" from headquarters usually meant trouble, weakness, and someone who could only talk about strategy on paper.
"Oh? Is this the rookie the Vice Admiral specifically requested from headquarters? I heard he's some kind of genius?"
The crowd parted, and a burly man with a hideous scar across his face and muscles like granite stepped out.
He was the ship's Boatswain and a veteran soldier-thug.
He toyed with a dagger in his hand, sizing Kane up with a fierce gaze before finally letting out a sneer:
"He looks like a top star from the Pleasure Town. With those thin arms and legs, can he handle the storms of the New World? Don't wet your pants when the time comes and expect us to wash them for you!"
"Hahahahaha!"
A burst of laughter erupted around them, filled with malicious banter.
"Hey, Pretty Boy," the scarred Marine said playfully, pointing at the barrel in Kane's arms. "If you want to stay on Mr. Garp's ship, looks alone won't cut it. Drink this barrel in one go. If you puke, then crawl back to headquarters and drink milk!"
This was an initiation.
Almost every newcomer to this ship went through this.
Bogard frowned, his hand moving to his sword hilt to step in and resolve the situation, but Garp stopped him.
Garp chewed his senbei while watching Kane with interest. He wanted to see just how much the kid who dared to blackmail Germa was worth.
Under everyone's watchful eyes.
Kane smiled.
He wasn't angry, nor did he show any cowardice.
"So these are the elites under Vice Admiral Garp? They certainly are hospitable."
Kane lifted the heavy rum barrel with one hand and then stepped onto the ammunition box used for gambling in front of him.
Thud!
This posture was even more arrogant than that of the soldier-thugs.
Kane's gaze swept over every ill-intentioned person, his voice clear yet carrying a sense of pressure:
"Seniors, just drinking is so boring."
"What? Don't dare?" Scarface provoked.
"It's disdain."
Kane gave a light laugh and pulled out the deck of cards he had polished to a shine in the confinement room, slamming them onto the table with a "snap."
"Purely competing in drinking is too low-level! Since everyone is in high spirits, why don't we play something exciting?"
"Huh?" The Marines were all confused.
Kane's eyes were like those of a cunning fox, staring intensely at Scarface:
"The rules are simple. We draw cards to see who's higher. For every loss, you drink a bowl. But I have a bad habit—I don't like playing for small stakes."
"If we're going to play, let's play to the end."
Kane pointed at the barrel in his arms and then at the pile of Berries behind Scarface:
"If I can't drink anymore, I'll give every brother here 10,000 Berries as a greeting gift. But if you lose..."
Kane's mouth curled into a "kindly" smile:
"These next few months of your allowances, along with your private stashes, will all belong to me."
The entire area went dead silent for a second.
Then, even wilder cheering erupted.
"Holy crap! This kid is arrogant!"
"The wealth-giving boy is here!"
"Interesting! I've never been afraid of anyone when it comes to drinking capacity! Come! I'll play with you!" Scarface's blood was up as he kicked aside a stool. "If I lose, I'll even pawn my underwear to you!"
"I'm in too!"
"Count me in!"
A group of gambling-addicted soldier-thugs immediately had their competitive spirits ignited, surrounding him like sharks that had caught the scent of blood.
Kane looked at this group of "experience babies" who were scrambling to give him points, and his smile grew even wider... Thirty minutes later.
"Blegh—!!"
Scarface leaned against the ship's rail, puking his guts out, looking like he was about to collapse.
And in the center of the deck.
Kane was already surrounded by piles of Berries he had won, along with a stack of IOUs.
At his feet, the giant rum barrel was empty.
"Who... who else?!"
Kane's face was flushed red, and his eyes were glazed; he looked like he was about to fall over at any moment.
But only he knew that this was all acting.
The Storm-Storm Fruit inside him was operating silently, quickly vaporizing the alcohol entering his stomach and expelling it through his pores. Aside from the strong smell of booze on him, he was clearer-headed than anyone else.
"I don't accept this... this kid's luck is too good..." an old soldier muttered incoherently, slumped over the table with a handful of bad cards still in his hand.
"Luck?"
Kane sneered inwardly as he counted the money.
This is skill!
[Ding! The host engaged in mass gambling while on duty and set a trap to win money from colleagues!]
[Gained discipline points: 500!]
[Ding! The host took the lead in binge drinking, seriously damaging the military image!]
[Gained discipline points: 200!]
[Ding! Established a "God of Gamblers" image, corrupting the atmosphere of the entire warship!]
[Gained extra reward: discipline points +500!]
The system notifications kept chiming, and Kane's mood was at an all-time high.
"Puhahahaha!"
Garp, who had been sitting in the main seat watching the show, finally couldn't hold it in any longer and burst into a hearty laugh.
"Interesting! So interesting!" Garp tossed the last piece of senbei into his mouth, his eyes full of appreciation.
He liked the strong, and he liked interesting people.
Kane had the strength to overturn the entire Elite Camp and this kind of reckless attitude that allowed him to mingle with anyone; he was simply tailor-made for Garp's ship.
He stood up, and a terrifying aura instantly erupted, silencing the entire area.
"Since everyone is so happy, then..." Garp grinned, revealing a row of bright white teeth, "Let's have a banquet!!!"
"ROAR!!!"
The Marines, who had been depressed about losing money, were instantly revived the moment they heard the word "banquet," raising their glasses and meat with beast-like roars... As the night deepened.
The sea breeze dispersed the smell of alcohol and meat, and the deck was covered with Marines who had passed out in various positions.
Kane declined the invitations from several old soldiers who wanted him to "sleep side-by-side" and walked to the bow of the ship alone.
The sea breeze blew away the scent of alcohol from his body and brought with it the unique chill of the ocean at night.
He counted tonight's harvest—100,000 Berries in cash, 300,000 in IOUs, and nearly 3,000 discipline points.
"This life has prospects."
Kane lit a cigarette and took a deep breath. However, when he rounded the giant main turret and reached the very front of the bow, his footsteps suddenly halted.
A man was standing there quietly, gazing out at the pitch-black sea in the distance.
His figure was upright, yet it exuded a sense of loneliness and melancholy that was completely out of place on this ship. It was a heavy aura, as if he were carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
Kane's brow quirked slightly.
There was actually someone with this kind of vibe on this ship?
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