At Marine Headquarters Navy Port, Berth G-3.
A massive warship adorned with a dog-head figurehead swayed with the rolling waves.
Unlike the polished, meticulously maintained Headquarters Standard Warships nearby, this vessel's first impression was one of—wildness.
Its hull was covered in patches, like medals of honor.
The deck wasn't lined with neatly arrayed soldiers; instead, it was occupied by a group of burly, shirtless men covered in scars.
When Kane stepped onto the deck of this legendary warship with a small travel bag, he wasn't greeted by orderly ranks or crisp salutes, but by a wave of "masculine hormones" mixed with cheap rum, the aroma of roasted meat, and the pungent smell of sweat.
"Is this… really a Marine warship?"
Kane paused, raising an eyebrow slightly.
The scene before him was truly eye-opening:
In the center of the deck, a bonfire crackled, with several Marines roasting large chunks of unidentified Sea Beast meat on their sabers, sizzling with oil. On the left turret, someone was using the warship's main cannon as a clothesline to dry underwear. To the right, things were even more outrageous—a group of men huddled in a circle, shouting with flushed faces as they used Berry and even Gold Teeth as gambling chips.
[Ding! Detected host in an environment "severely violating the Marine Corps Appearance and Discipline Regulations"!]
[Continuously gaining Violation Value: +1 point per minute!]
Heaven!
This place was practically tailor-made for him!
"Ahem…"
Bogard, the adjutant guiding Kane, adjusted his cap brim. His usually cold, poker face briefly flickered with a hint of "awkwardness."
"Warrant Officer Kane, Vice Admiral Garp's unit… has a rather unconventional style. After all, they've been fighting against pirates of Roger's caliber in the New World for years, so the pressure is quite high."
"Unconventional? No."
Kane looked at these lawless individuals, and instead of showing any disdain, the corners of his mouth gradually lifted until he revealed his trademark white teeth.
"This is simply brimming with vitality, Colonel Bogard," Kane exclaimed sincerely. "This is the romance of men! I absolutely love this atmosphere."
Bogard's mouth twitched slightly. Great, another one's gone mad.
"Pwahahaha! Kid Kane, what are you standing there dumbfounded for?!"
Accompanied by thunderous laughter, a massive hand slapped Kane hard on the back.
Thump!
A dull thud echoed as Kane felt his internal organs shift from the impact. Even with the power of the Storm Fruit flowing within him, he was left reeling, his blood and energy churning.
Was this the aura of a top-tier powerhouse? Even a simple pat on the back came with armor-piercing effects?
Garp's mouth was stuffed with Rice Crackers, crumbs spraying everywhere. With his other hand, he grabbed a massive oak barrel and shoved it into Kane's arms without a word.
"Once you're on my ship, don't act all gloomy like Sengoku! Here! Finish this barrel first—consider it your initiation drink!"
This barrel?
Kane looked at the barrel in his arms—thicker than his own waist and holding at least five liters of rum—and his eye twitched.
The commotion drew the attention of the group of "scoundrel soldiers" on the deck.
The Marines, who had been grilling meat and gambling, stopped what they were doing and closed in with unfriendly glares.
Their eyes swept over Kane's overly handsome, delicate face, filled with scrutiny and disdain.
To these battle-hardened veterans, "elite young masters" from headquarters usually meant trouble, weakness, and empty theories.
"Oh? So this is the new guy the Vice Admiral specifically requested from headquarters? I heard he's some kind of genius?"
The crowd parted, and a burly man with a vicious scar across his face and muscles like granite stepped forward.
He was the boatswain of this ship—a seasoned scoundrel among soldiers.
Twirling a dagger in his hand, he gave Kane a fierce once-over before letting out a scornful laugh:
"You look like the star attraction in the Pleasure Quarter. With those scrawny arms and legs, can you even handle the storms of the New World? Don't piss your pants and make us clean up after you!"
"HAHAHAHA!"
A wave of malicious laughter erupted around them.
"Hey, pretty boy," the scar-faced Marine sneered, pointing at the barrel in Kane's arms. "If you want to stay on Vice Admiral Garp's ship, good looks won't cut it. Chug this whole barrel in one go. If you puke, crawl back to headquarters and drink milk like a baby!"
This was a test of mettle.
Almost every newcomer to this ship went through this ritual.
Bogard frowned, his hand moving to his sword hilt as he prepared to intervene, but Garp stopped him.
Munching on rice crackers, Garp watched Kane with keen interest. He wanted to see what this kid—who'd dared to extort Germa—was really made of.
Under the watchful eyes of everyone.
Kane smiled.
He showed neither anger nor fear.
"So this is the elite under Vice Admiral Garp's command? Truly… hospitable."
Kane lifted the heavy barrel with one hand and planted a foot on the ammunition crate they'd been using for gambling.
BANG!
His posture was even more arrogant than these hardened soldiers.
Kane's gaze swept over each hostile face, his voice clear yet carrying an undeniable pressure:
"Seniors, just drinking is boring."
"What? Scared?" the scar-faced man taunted.
"Beneath me."
Kane chuckled lightly and pulled out the deck of playing cards he'd polished to a shine during his confinement, slapping them onto the drinking table with a sharp smack.
"Simple drinking games are too crude! Since everyone's in high spirits, why not play something more exciting?"
"Huh?" The Marines stared blankly.
Kane's eyes gleamed like a cunning fox as he fixed them on the scar-faced man:
"The rules are simple. We draw cards and compare. Lose a round, drink a bowl. But I have a bad habit—I don't like small stakes."
"If we're playing, we go all the way."
Kane pointed at the barrel in his arms, then at the pile of Berry behind the scar-faced man:
"If I can't drink anymore, I'll give each of you ten thousand Berry as a welcoming gift. But if you lose…"
A nuclear-friendly smile curled at the corner of Kane's lips:
"Your allowances for the next few months, along with your secret stashes… will all belong to me."
Silence fell for a full second.
Then, even wilder jeers erupted.
"Holy shit! This kid's got guts!"
The money-giving boy is here!"
"This is interesting! I've never been afraid of anyone when it comes to drinking! Come on! I'll play with you!" The scar-faced man, provoked, kicked away a nearby stool. "If I lose, I'll even pawn my underwear to you!"
"Count me in!"
"Me too!"
A group of gambling-addicted soldiers, instantly stirred by competitiveness, swarmed around like sharks smelling blood.
Kane looked at these "experience babies" eagerly rushing to deliver points and smiled even more brightly.
...
Thirty minutes later.
"Ugh—!!"
The scar-faced man leaned against the ship's railing, vomiting uncontrollably, nearly collapsing from exhaustion.
In the center of the deck.
In front of Kane was a pile of won Berries and a stack of IOUs.
At his feet, the massive wine barrel was empty.
"Who... who's next?!"
Kane's face was flushed red, his eyes dazed, and he appeared on the verge of collapse.
But only he knew it was all an act.
The [Storm Fruit] inside him was silently at work, rapidly vaporizing the alcohol in his stomach and expelling it through his pores. Aside from the strong smell of alcohol on him, he was more awake than anyone.
"I don't accept this... this kid's luck is too good..." an old soldier mumbled incoherently, slumped over a table, still clutching a terrible hand of cards.
"Luck?"
Kane sneered inwardly as he counted the money.
This is skill!
[Ding! Host gathered a crowd for gambling during duty and set up games to win money from colleagues!]
[Violation Value obtained: 500 points!]
[Ding! Host led in excessive drinking, severely damaging the military's image!]
[Violation Value obtained: 200 points!]
[Ding! Established a "Gambling God" image, corrupting the entire warship's atmosphere!]
[Additional reward: Violation Value +500 points!]
The system notifications chimed incessantly, and Kane's mood was at its peak.
"Pfft, hahaha!"
Garp, who had been watching the spectacle from the main seat, finally couldn't hold back and burst into hearty laughter.
"Interesting! So interesting!" Garp tossed the last Rice Cracker into his mouth, his eyes full of appreciation.
He liked strong people, and he liked interesting ones.
Kane not only had the strength to overturn the entire Elite Camp but also possessed this unruly charisma that could blend in with anyone, making him practically tailor-made for his ship.
He stood up, and a terrifying aura instantly erupted, silencing the entire room.
"Since everyone's in such high spirits, then..." Garp grinned, revealing a set of gleaming white teeth. "Let's have a feast!!!"
"Roar!!!"
The Marines, who had been frustrated from losing money, instantly revived at the word "feast," raising their glasses and roasted meat as they let out beast-like roars.
...
The night grew deeper.
The sea breeze dispersed the smells of alcohol and grilled meat, and the deck was littered with Marines fast asleep.
Kane declined invitations from a few old soldiers to "share a bed" and walked alone to the bow of the ship.
The sea breeze cleared away the alcohol scent on him and brought the chill unique to the deep night sea.
He counted tonight's gains—100,000 Berries in cash, 300,000 Berries in IOUs, and nearly 3,000 points of Violation Value.
"This life is promising," Kane lit a cigarette and took a deep breath.
However, when he rounded the massive main turret and reached the foremost point of the bow, his footsteps suddenly halted.
A man stood there quietly, gazing into the distance at the sea as dark as ink.
His figure was upright, yet it carried a sense of solitude and melancholy that seemed 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 lifted slightly.
How could there be someone with such a presence on this ship?