c7: Amazing Appetite! Fever Navy
Lang Youqing and concubine are interested, and the two have similar smells and hit it off.
"Oh, that's it." Mole's eyes squinted slightly in a smile, clearly showing full satisfaction at Loya's choice but his voice remained stern and professional: "Of course you may join. However, even if you possess considerable strength, entry into the Navy must begin at the foundational level as a recruit. Are you prepared for that?"
"Of course." Loya responded without hesitation: "And starting from the basics only makes it more interesting."
There was one thing Loya didn't mention aloud: his actual goal was to join the Navy in order to get into the recruit training camp. Based on the earlier conversation and the current situation, it was clear that the timeline hadn't yet reached the point when Sakazuki (Akainu) became Fleet Admiral which meant that Zephyr (Zeffa) might still be involved with recruit training. And if that legendary instructor was still active, this might be Loya's only shot.
After all, who was Zephyr? The man known as the "Black Arm" was a former Admiral and currently headed the Navy's training unit. The list of names he had personally trained Kuzan (Aokiji), Borsalino (Kizaru), Sakazuki (Akainu) read like a who's who of Navy elites. Anyone trained by Zephyr stood at the pinnacle of the sea.
Even the future Admirals had begun as humble recruits. That was the rule of the world. Whether guided by the flow of fate or the "will of the world," all roads to greatness in the Navy started the same way: from the bottom.
Want to get stronger? Then join the boot camp!
Another factor in Loya's decision was timing One Piece's world conscription initiative hadn't yet begun. There was no global draft happening now, which meant Loya had no other path forward.
Seeing the unwavering confidence in Loya's expression, Mole gave a firm nod of approval. Folding his arms across his chest, he said, "Very well. The warship is scheduled to arrive at Marineford the day after tomorrow. Once there, you'll report to the recruit camp and begin formal training. But for now, let's go eat."
"Yes, sir."
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Naturally, the Navy wouldn't be holding banquets with overflowing mugs and sake barrels on deck like pirates. Instead, they had a regulated and well-maintained cafeteria.
At the entrance to the cafeteria, Loya accepted a dose of seasickness medicine from the ship's doctor and downed it in one gulp. His pale face quickly flushed with color, and though the nausea lingered, he could at least function again.
Without waiting for any young Navy cadets to escort him, Loya made his way straight to the mess counter, where the cooking staff was serving up the evening meal.
"Hello, I'll need curry rice for ten people. Also, give me a whole pot of drumsticks... Oh, and that fruit basket over there no, just give me the whole thing."
The cook, a burly man with a towel tied around his forehead, blinked in astonishment. But before he could ask a question, Loya had already grabbed a tray of rice in one hand, an iron pot of drumsticks in the other, and clenched the basket of fruit between his teeth. Balancing his haul like a circus act, he trotted over to Lieutenant General Mole's table and sat down.
Boom!
The iron pot hit the table with a loud thud, signaling it was full and heavy. A mountain of food towered over the surface, completely obstructing Mole's view of Loya.
"Loya," Mole asked, his eye twitching slightly, "do you eat this much every meal?"
"Huh?" Loya tilted his head, already stuffing a drumstick into his mouth. He didn't even chew just bit and swallowed, bones and all. Then, blinking innocently, he said, "Nope. I'm actually not that hungry today 'cause of the seasickness."
"Not that hungry…"
In the time it took to finish that sentence, Loya had cleared nearly half the curry rice leaving a crater in the pot the size of a cannonball. Mole exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Now I understand why you said the island had no food…"
At least Marineford was only two days away. If they'd been stuck at sea for any longer, Loya would have singlehandedly put the ship on emergency rations.
All around them, other sailors had stopped eating. Watching Loya inhale food like a vacuum, they stared suspiciously at their own trays of curry rice: "Wait… is this stuff really that good?"
Luckily, this was a Navy vessel. The quality and quantity of the ingredients were far better than what pirates scraped together on the Grand Line. But even so, the cook could tell disaster was brewing. Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he rushed back to the kitchen to chop more carrots and potatoes. A second pot of curry was already bubbling before the first shift had even finished eating—if he didn't hurry, Loya would leave them all without dinner.
Bang!
Loya placed his empty bowl down triumphantly, his belly round and tight. Slumping against the backrest, he let out a contented belch one that sparkled, quite literally, as a burst of icy mist escaped his lips.
"I'm full. Haven't had curry this good in a long time.
Uncle! Pack up five big meat bones for me I wanna take them with me!"
Clang~
The sound of spoons and bowls clattering echoed throughout the cafeteria as a group of stunned sailors stared at him in disbelief. Was this guy really human? Sure, there were plenty of races in the One Piece world giants, fishmen, longarms, snake-necks and some of them were famously big eaters. But even among them, this level of consumption was shocking.
Mole rubbed his forehead again, groaning. If Loya really joined the Navy, they'd need to file a supply request just for his meals. Otherwise, with that appetite, he'd be raiding his fellow recruits' plates before they finished their first bite. And with no food, there'd be no strength. With no strength, there'd be no training.
No food, no future.
Holding the meat and bones in one hand, Loya bid farewell to Vice Admiral Mole and walked out of the cafeteria. Before leaving, the ship's doctor had told him that he'd prepared additional seasickness medicine that afternoon and asked Loya to come retrieve a two-day supply.
The ship doctor's quarters were located not far from the enlisted soldiers' barracks, just a short walk down the corridor from the cafeteria. As Loya passed through the hallway, munching as he walked, the Navy personnel he passed stared in mute disbelief. Every few steps, a large meat bone thick as a grown man's forearm was tossed casually into the sea below, picked completely clean, not even a strand of meat clinging to it.
"Hello? Anyone in? I'm here for the medicine."
Standing at the door to the ship's medical room, Loya rapped twice on the metal cabin door, letting out a burp just after.
"Oh, it's Mr. Loya! Please, come in!"
The voice belonged to the ship's doctor, speaking from inside the infirmary. Loya opened the door and entered.
The interior was more spacious than expected, with the sharp scent of disinfectant and alcohol filling the air. Along the left wall stood a neat row of white medical beds, two of which were occupied. Navy soldiers in hospital gowns were curled under thick quilts, trembling visibly.
At the far end of the room, the ship doctor sat facing the door, drawing a milky-white fluid into a syringe from a glass vial. On the table next to him, Loya immediately noticed several neatly arranged brown glass bottles likely the same seasickness remedy he had taken earlier that day.
Seeing Loya walk in, the doctor stood, tapping the syringe lightly while checking for air bubbles. "There are five bottles here in total," he said, gesturing to the brown vials. "Take these for now. If you run out, or your symptoms worsen, notify me immediately don't push through it."
"Thanks, doc." Loya nodded and approached, scooping the medicine into his pockets. As he turned to leave, he happened to glance over and saw the doctor lifting the quilt, pulling down the trousers of one of the patients, revealing a pale backside.
"Uh, by the way, sir… what happened to these guys?" Loya asked curiously.
The doctor squinted, aimed, and drove the needle into the soldier's buttocks with a firm jab. There was no concealment in the contempt in his voice as he replied: "Tch. Half the unit caught colds from falling into the ocean earlier. These two were the worst off fevers shot up fast. Their bodies are too damn weak."
Eh… Loya looked away, a little awkward. After all, the reason they'd ended up in the water in the first place was his doing. He hadn't quite mastered the force control on that last Ice Dragon spell.
But then again, it wasn't entirely their fault either. The ice mist expelled by Ice Dragon Slayer Magic was far colder than normal frost it carried a magical chill that could freeze a flowing stream solid with just a touch. Even if a single shard of that enchanted ice landed in the sea, it would spread frost shockwaves across the surface.
At the time, the wave of cold had been partially deflected by Mole's sword slash, but the residual energy still swept over the deck and into the lower holds. Honestly, the fact that only a few soldiers had collapsed was a testament to their endurance—anyone who hadn't caught a fever should be considered elite material.
After thanking the doctor, Loya returned to his assigned cabin.
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