c10 — Departure
Restaurant at Night
Rhodes was eating and drinking in a dim corner of the Revolutionary Army's mess hall, his hands moving nonstop as the mountain of food in front of him vanished at a speed barely traceable to the naked eye.
He consumed far more than the average human more than even some Fishmen who prided themselves on their appetite.
Ordinary people's physiques improved through gradual conditioning day-by-day, sweat-by-sweat. Even after exhaustive training, the nutritional demands were manageable, and their daily intake of food rarely exceeded the norm.
But Rhodes was a completely different case.
His body was strengthening at a pace that could only be described as supernatural visible muscle development by the day, sometimes even by the hour.
It was as if years of hard-earned effort by elite fighters like CP9's Rob Lucci or the Revolutionary Army's own commanders were compressed into a single day's gain for him.
Naturally, his metabolism and nutritional needs followed that growth exponentially. His body demanded far more energy and sustenance to fuel these quantum leaps in strength.
At that moment, Rhodes was gnawing on a massive golden-brown leg of lamb easily the size of Sanjuan Wolf's palm when Rez's voice suddenly broke through the sound of chewing.
"I finally found you."
"Rez? What's going on?"
Rhodes looked up casually, speaking around a mouthful of meat.
Rez glared at him, half-annoyed. "We've got an actual combat mission tomorrow show up early for once."
Without waiting for a reply, he turned and left, clearly uninterested in small talk. The only reason he'd even delivered the message was likely because Captain Nia had asked him to.
"Actual combat, huh?"
Rhodes' eyes lit up slightly with interest, but the smell of sizzling spices quickly reeled his focus back to the meal. He dug back in with renewed vigor.
---
The Next Day
At the base of the Revolutionary Army's headquarters beneath the towering structure of Baltigo's wind-swept castle stood a loose gathering of personnel.
Since the Revolutionary Army didn't enforce uniforms, the squad looked more like a collection of misfits than soldiers. The lack of regulation led to a chaotic display of fashion: coats, armor, tribal garb, and even a clown nose or two worse than the Dressrosa circus troupe.
To Rhodes, this eclectic chaos was a fresh reminder that the Grand Line didn't just mess with compasses it messed with wardrobes too.
Still, amidst this patchwork crew of bizarre aesthetics, one shining exception stood out: Koala, dressed sharply and confidently, her presence raising the overall charisma of the group by at least two notches.
Once Rhodes joined the ranks, his composed demeanor and sharp eyes gave the squad yet another boost in visual appeal.
With both of them present, the squad looked if only barely presentable to the outside world.
"Yo, look who finally made it the celebrity himself, fashionably last."
Rhodes turned toward the voice and saw a tall, toned woman in a revealing outfit standing with her arms crossed and a cold expression.
"Am I late?"
Rhodes was momentarily distracted by the generous expanse of exposed skin, but he quickly recovered and replied nonchalantly.
"You!" Nia clenched her fists tightly. She truly considered decking Rhodes on the spot.
Everyone else had shown up early, awaiting instructions. Only Rhodes had strolled in precisely at the moment of assembly, making her, the team leader, look negligent.
Exhale.
Nia let out a sharp breath, pushing down the urge to punish him on the spot. She decided to let it slide for now.
She turned toward the squad and began briefing them on the mission:
"This mission's simple just an opportunity for the new blood, like Rez and Rhodes here, to see real blood spilled."
"See blood? You mean we're taking on pirates?" Rez's eyes gleamed as he spoke, licking his lips in anticipation.
In the world of One Piece, the Revolutionary Army stood ideologically opposed to both the World Nobles and the pirate groups that terrorized civilians. Their operations often focused on dismantling corrupt regimes, but when pirates acted as oppressors, revolutionaries weren't above delivering justice.
In lawless zones like the New World where the Navy's influence was thin and Celestial Dragon allies ran unchecked the Revolutionary Army often acted as the only moral compass.
"Ha."
Nia scoffed. "You're still green. You think we'd throw rookies at pirates on your first deployment? Besides, this is the New World. Tie all of you together, and you still couldn't handle a mid-tier pirate crew."
She stepped forward and continued with a grin:
"We're heading to an archipelago near White Earth Island no towns, no people, just wild beasts. Big ones."
She paused, holding up her hands.
"They range from normal size to monstrous. The largest one is nearly seven or eight meters tall big enough to swallow a whole man in one bite."
After her dramatic pause, Nia scanned the group's faces. Rez and the other recruits looked grave. The tension and nervous energy were thick.
Nia, amused by their alarm, smirked inwardly.
Heh. I remember how terrified I was my first time too…
Then her gaze shifted to Rhodes.
To her surprise, the young man looked completely at ease serene even. No sweat, no wide eyes, no clenched fists.
The ignorant are fearless, Nia sneered silently. Let's see if that calm sticks when he's being chased by a beast twice his size.
Rhodes, for his part, wasn't bluffing. He wasn't afraid—far from it.
He was eager.
He had trained intensely for a full month, and in that time, his strength had skyrocketed.
At this point, he could easily overpower his former self from a month ago with just one hand literally.
However, real combat strength couldn't be measured through speculation or solo drills alone. It had to be tested in the crucible of actual battle.
Besides
He had already noticed something critical during previous skirmishes: the energy gained in real combat situations far surpassed what he gained through ordinary cultivation or training drills.
...
And right on cue
The Fish-Man Haku finally showed up, arriving late with his usual calm, imposing presence. He walked up to the assembled group and spoke in his deep, no-nonsense tone:
"You should all be briefed on the mission details by now. Good. We're moving out."
"Yes, sir!"
The reservists responded in unison and began pulling out the regulation coats they had prepared beforehand.
The style of the coat was striking long, with high collars and dark buttons. It bore a clear resemblance to the signature cloak worn by Monkey D. Dragon in the manga, though this version was a reserved gray, symbolizing their trainee status.
When worn together, the uniformity of the gray coats cast a solemn atmosphere over the squad. The symbolic weight of those coats wasn't lost on anyone.
Many of the newcomers felt their previously restless hearts settle. It was as though donning the coat connected them to the revolutionary lineage the long, secretive history of those who had struggled against oppression while hiding in desolate corners of the world like Baltigo.
The team moved swiftly, maintaining a pace that ordinary civilians could never match. Their physical conditioning already well beyond average made the long trek feel closer to a marathon warm-up.
Yet the terrain of White Earth Island was relentless. Sandstorms flared up intermittently, forcing detours and alternate routes. What should have taken only a few days stretched into seven full days before they finally reached the coast.
There, a large sail-powered merchant vessel waited, anchored and prepared.
Without unnecessary chatter, the team boarded the vessel in an orderly manner. A rare silence spread among them.
It was clear from their demeanor that the week-long march had subtly reshaped them. Rez and the others no longer carried themselves with the jittery, hot-blooded energy of new recruits. Their tempers had cooled, their movements sharpened. Experience no matter how small had begun etching its mark on them.
Haku gave a slight nod of approval at the sight. Then, without further delay, he turned and issued the sailing order.
Koala, still casual as ever, yawned dramatically, turned on her heel, and disappeared into the cabin likely off to indulge in a well-earned beauty nap.
The reservists scattered around the ship, some dropping into seated positions with tired sighs, others leaning against railings. The seven-day march had only been an appetizer. No one had forgotten that the true mission the real combat was still ahead.
Despite its old-fashioned appearance, the sailboat was clearly enhanced with some of the Grand Line's unique "black technology." Once it began moving at full speed, there were barely any noticeable bumps or lurches. The White Earth Island vanished into the horizon within a short time, swallowed by the endless sea, never to be seen again from this vantage.
This was Rhodes' first time setting out to sea across both his current life and his past one.
Though he had seen countless images, read detailed reports, and even watched the sea from afar, none of that could replicate the feeling of standing on the deck of a real ship, watching the infinite blue stretch in every direction.
The sensation was overwhelming.
His heart felt baptized, cleansed as though something inside him had opened up wide to embrace the unknown.
Rhodes leaned against the ship's rail, let the sea breeze brush against his face, and squinted his eyes in quiet comfort. Then, he opened his status panel for a quick glance.
The total energy had increased by seven points, now totaling seventy-three.
It was a solid gain steady and dependable.
Under regular training, the increase was about one point per day. In his first three months, he had painstakingly saved up one hundred points. With the addition of lightning-forging, that growth had nearly doubled, reaching roughly two points per day.
But during the seven-day march, Rhodes had been forced to suspend lightning-forging not out of fear of discovery, but because of the aftermath: extreme hunger.
The forging process consumed his stamina at such an accelerated rate that he'd turn ravenous almost instantly. If he dared perform it during the march, he'd be stuck in a state where every person around him looked like a roasted turkey leg.
He shuddered slightly at the memory.
"If only I had a storage ring or something," he muttered.
Rhodes gazed out toward the shimmering horizon, half amused and half frustrated. In a world where Devil Fruits granted flight, soul manipulation, and the ability to turn into magma, the absence of a simple, portable storage solution was an oddly inconvenient gap.
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