Chapter 6: Promotion to Sergeant
Late at night, inside the warship. The dim, flickering light of an oil lamp cast swaying shadows on the metal bulkheads.
Zephyr sat at his desk, which was covered in thick after-action reports and personnel rosters. An ink-stained fountain pen rested next to an inkwell.
This "Black Arm" wasn't just a pure warrior; he also possessed a hint of the intellectual strategist, much like Sengoku.
"Hah..." Zephyr rubbed his temples. The long hours had caused even this iron-fisted Vice Admiral to show a trace of fatigue. The casualties at God Valley had far exceeded expectations. Not many had survived, and even fewer had managed to bring back the bodies of their comrades.
The nib of his pen scratched across the paper. One name after another was reviewed, merits assigned, ranks adjusted.
Until...
Garon Reginald Sigma
Seeing this name, Zephyr's pen stopped.
"Garon..." He stared at the name, his brow furrowing slightly.
Logically, for a Seaman Second Class from a West Blue branch, surviving God Valley was already a miracle, let alone bringing back the body of his superior officer.
By standard procedure, such a performance was enough for a promotion to Petty Officer Third Class—the lowest rung on the NCO ladder.
But for some reason, Zephyr felt that something was wrong.
It was too... perfect.
At the last possible moment, just as everyone was about to evacuate, Garon had appeared carrying Derick's body, covered in blood, his words filled with tragic valor.
The whole scene was too perfect. So perfect... it felt like a meticulously staged performance.
Zephyr set down his pen, his knuckles tapping softly on the desk.
In his mind, Garon's face reappeared, especially that look of profound grief.
"Adjutant," Zephyr finally spoke.
"Yes, Vice Admiral!" The adjutant, who had been standing at the door, immediately stepped forward.
"How much do you know about the situation in the West Blue branch?"
The adjutant paused for a second, then lowered his voice. "Corruption is rampant, sir. Officers buy and sell their positions. It's common for soldiers to bribe their superiors to dodge dangerous missions. A soldier like Garon, with no background, taking four years just to make Seaman Second Class... he's either too honest, or too smart."
Zephyr's expression darkened.
A man who was "too honest" wouldn't have survived God Valley.
And a man who was "too smart"... would know precisely how to use "tragedy" to his own advantage.
"Furthermore, sir, I suspect that Derick's corpse... it might have been him..."
"Hmm?" Hearing his adjutant's words, Zephyr's face grew heavy. "That boy's grief was not fake!"
"In my life, I have met many men... treacherous, cunning... I am not a fool. The grief that boy showed in that moment... it was absolutely genuine. It came from his very heart!"
"From his heart..." The adjutant was taken aback. He pursed his lips and said no more.
Zephyr, after rebuking his adjutant, looked back at Garon's name. After a moment of silence, he suddenly let out a cold laugh.
"Interesting." The fountain pen came down again, striking the merit assessment column with force.
Original Promotion: Petty Officer Third Class (Lowest NCO Rank)
Revised to: Sergeant (Highest NCO Rank)
The adjutant's eyes widened. "Vice Admiral Zephyr, this is..."
Zephyr closed the roster, his voice low. "West Blue is in need of rectification. And rectification requires a blade. A blade that is smart enough... and sharp enough."
He stood up and walked to the porthole. In the moonlight, the sea's surface gleamed with a cold light, like a silent omen.
"As for who this blade ultimately cuts..."
A small smile touched Zephyr's lips. "That will depend on his own choice. That kid... he has a heart of justice. He just hasn't figured out his own justice yet."
...
Several days later, in the soldiers' quarters.
Garon leaned back in a hammock in the corner, idly toying with a Marine insignia. The cabin was filled with the sound of snoring. No one noticed the fine, vibrational waves coiling around his fingertips.
Looks like... we should be arriving in West Blue soon. Garon gazed out the small porthole, a slight smile on his face. This time, I should definitely be promoted to an NCO...
Suddenly, the cabin door was thrown open. A herald high-handedly announced:
"We are arriving at West Blue Branch 133! All soldiers assigned to Branch 133, prepare for disembarkation!"
After saying his piece, the herald shot a meaningful glance at Garon in his corner hammock.
"And! Garon Reginald Sigma!"
"Here!" Garon vaulted out of the hammock.
"A promotion order has been issued! Effective immediately, Garon Reginald Sigma is promoted to Branch Sergeant!"
The words dropped, and the cabin instantly exploded.
"What?! Straight from Seaman Second Class to Sergeant?!"
"That... That's got to be against regulations, right?!"
Garon, now sitting up, looked at the new Marine uniform being offered. He accepted the promotion order under the shocked stares of everyone present.
The ink on the paper was still fresh. At the bottom, Zephyr's signature was so forceful it looked like it had pierced the paper.
He looked up at the herald. "Please convey my... 'appreciation' to Vice Admiral Zephyr."
...
West Blue, Branch 133 Marine Port.
The 133rd's commander, Branch Ensign Asahi, completed the handover. After watching the HQ warship depart, he turned his gaze to the thirty battle-scarred Marines on the dock, Garon among them.
"Bastards! When the support request order came, they took 2,000 of my men... and this is all that's left!"
Asahi looked thoroughly pissed off, but his eyes quickly found Garon in the small crowd.
It was hard not to. Although Garon was only 14, he was already about 1.87 meters tall. That, combined with the bandage-wrapped longsword on his back, made him stand out like a crane in a flock of chickens.
"This guy..." Asahi's pupils shrank when he saw Garon's new rank insignia.
"You! You got promoted from Seaman Second Class to Sergeant?! Garon!"
Hearing his name, Garon—who was surprised this branch commander even knew who he was—could only offer a sheepish grin.
"Just a bit of luck, Commander Asahi. I never expected a commander to remember my name..."
"The rest of you, dismiss." Asahi waved the other Marines away, then strode right up to Garon.
"That Warrant Officer Derick..."
"He was killed in action at God Valley. The list should have been transmitted to the branch by now."
"I know he's dead! I'm talking about his death benefit! Didn't you collect it?" Asahi gave a greasy smile and rubbed his fingers together. "I don't know why he put your name down as his beneficiary, but..."
Garon couldn't be bothered to talk to these corrupt bastards. But then he remembered... as a senior NCO, he could now independently command missions.
If he wanted to get promoted back to Marine HQ, he would definitely need a good "show of faith." And getting on the commander's good side would make it easier to requisition a warship...
Besides, with his Devil Fruit, he had no need for this paltry sum. If he needed money, he could just go "collect" it from the very mafia bosses who had given him those high-interest loans.
With that, Garon nodded directly.
"Before Warrant Officer Derick died, he said that Commander Asahi always took great care of him here at the 133rd. He insisted... that I give his death benefit to you..."
"Aiya! What is this nonsense?" Asahi laughed, then lowered his voice. "Just leave the money in my office. In the future, when you go out on missions, I'll make sure you get a smooth-sailing, green light all the way."
"Commander..." Garon was genuinely stunned by how blatant Asahi was.
"What's with that look?! Aren't we Marines supposed to protect the people?!"
"Really?"
"Of course not... You're just a greenhorn who got a lucky promotion, what are you thinking? Bah, I've seen plenty of your type! If a warship gets a little 'damaged,' it's easier for me to apply to HQ for more funds, isn't it? Of course... if you get yourself killed, I won't be shy about collecting your death benefit either, hahaha!"