Boom!
Zephyr's fist tore through the air like a siege cannon, compressing everything in its path until it exploded outward in a blast of destructive force. The shockwave, pure white and condensed from raw physical might, surged toward Renn Hawk and the G-3 base behind him like a tidal wave threatening to flatten everything in its wake.
In the face of the former admiral's probing strike, Hawk didn't flinch. He stepped forward, his stance sinking lower into the ground as he raised a perfect guard. A tide of pitch-black color erupted from his right arm, quickly coating his fist in a gleaming armor of Armament Haki.
The density and purity of that Haki made the five veteran vice admirals present stiffen, their instincts screaming with unease.
Hawk punched.
A low hum tore through the air as his blow condensed into a solid mass of force. The jet-black fist energy ripped forward like a cannonball forged from obsidian, meeting Zephyr's white shockwave head-on.
The impact was cataclysmic.
Black and white collided in the middle of the dock, grinding against each other with a shriek before ripping apart in an explosion that tore the very air. Hawk's blow cut through Zephyr's shockwave like a burning blade through wax, splitting it neatly before both forces dissolved into nothingness midair.
The leftover force became a gale. Winds howled outward in every direction, snapping Marine coats and sending dust and gravel whipping across the harbor.
Silence fell.
For a heartbeat, no one moved, their eyes wide at what they had just witnessed.
Then, Zephyr's booming voice shattered the quiet, his tone carrying unmistakable joy.
Before the Marines could react, the old instructor vanished. The ground where he had stood cracked open, a crater left behind as his massive body shot forward like a cannon round.
In the blink of an eye, he was before Hawk, his monstrous mechanical arm the "Crusher" descending like a warhammer.
"Good!" Hawk roared, his fighting spirit blazing. He surged forward instead of retreating, slamming his fist into Zephyr's strike.
Steel clashed with flesh, muscle against machine.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The dock became an anvil, every collision ringing out like molten steel hammered into shape. Black sparks of Haki and white shockwaves burst with each impact, their violent clash shaking the ground.
The stone beneath their feet shattered again and again, fissures spreading outward as if the earth itself could not bear their power. To the soldiers watching, the two combatants blurred into shadows, their movements far too fast to follow. Only the relentless thunder of their blows revealed the ferocity of the duel.
From a distance, the five vice admirals watched with grim faces, awe mixing with disbelief.
"Zephyr-sensei… he isn't holding back, is he?" Spider Vice Admiral muttered, his tone heavy.
Doberman's eyes narrowed as he watched his former teacher move. "No. This is Zephyr fighting in his standard state. You know his style as well as I do." His throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice dry. "He's older now. His body can no longer endure prolonged battles the way it used to. But his strength and explosive power remain at the highest level."
Doberman paused, his gaze never leaving the battle. "That's why every strike he throws carries the full weight of his peak power. He fights for swift, decisive victory."
Another vice admiral broke the silence. "Then what level of strength is he showing right now?"
Doberman hesitated. He searched for the right words before finally speaking.
"Below an admiral. Beyond a vice admiral." His voice was steady now, each word deliberate. "What we're seeing is the strength of an Admiral Candidate."
A collective hiss ran through the group as the vice admirals drew sharp breaths.
Their eyes returned to the battlefield, this time settling not on Zephyr, but on Renn Hawk.
If Zephyr was unleashing the might of an Admiral Candidate…
Then what did it mean for Hawk, who met him blow for blow without faltering?
"His command ability is monstrous," one muttered.
"His training methods are monstrous," another added.
"And now his personal strength is monstrous too," Doberman whispered like a man in a dream. "At this rate… it won't be long."
He didn't finish, but they all understood.
Hawk had already surpassed them battle-hardened vice admirals who had served for decades. The next step in his career was inevitable.
The youngest vice admiral in Marine history was about to be born.
And soon after… the youngest admiral.
The realization settled over them like a tidal wave. Renn Hawk wasn't the so-called future of the Marines.
He was their present.
The clash dragged on, their blows echoing like war drums across the base. At last, both fighters slammed into each other with such force that they were thrown apart, each skidding across the ground and carving deep trenches in the stone.
Zephyr stood tall, his chest heaving, a grin tugging at his lips. He barked a laugh that echoed across the docks.
"Bloodhawk boy, your body techniques are impressive! You remind me of my prime!"
His voice carried pride, unrestrained and blazing, the admiration of a man who had seen countless soldiers rise and fall.
Behind the black sunglasses, his eyes burned with fire as he stared at the young officer.
Zephyr had trained generations of Marines. He despised those who leaned too heavily on Devil Fruits, chasing shortcuts instead of true discipline. To him, the pinnacle could only be reached by mastering one's body and Haki.
And now, before him stood Renn Hawk, a man who embodied that very path.
In just those exchanges, Zephyr had gauged him. The reports from Akainu hadn't exaggerated they had even undersold him.
This boy's body was resilient, his stamina enduring. His Haki was refined, his Armament pure and sharp. His fists struck with raw ferocity, wide and overwhelming.
If not for his aging frame, Zephyr would have gladly fought this young warrior until sunrise.
Hawk straightened, a grin spreading across his face as he lowered his fists.
That fight had been worth it.
Not long ago, he had raised his physique, martial skill, Observation, and Armament Haki all to the level of a headquarters vice admiral. What he needed now was a true battle to meld them into his instincts.
And who better than Zephyr the living fossil of Marine martial arts, the man who represented the ultimate in physical combat?
The duel had fused his abilities into seamless instinct. He could feel it in his bones, in every breath, every twitch of muscle.
And now, the timing was right. The people he was waiting for had arrived. Their next voyage could finally begin.
"Zephyr-sensei," Hawk said, stepping forward. "Shall I show you around?"
"Save your tricks, boy," Zephyr snorted, waving a hand. "I'll be stationed here from now on. I don't need a tour guide."
He jabbed a thumb toward the ranks of soldiers still standing in perfect formation even after the battle shook the docks. Their discipline was unshaken, their resolve carved into their posture.
"Talk to me about this instead," Zephyr said, his voice firm. "How you built this iron army. That interests me far more than the location of the G-3 latrines."
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