"What the hell is he doing!?"
Kong glanced at his watch, his brow tightening further, a trace of real irritation creeping into his voice.
The graduation ceremony was set to begin in just two or three minutes. Everyone was already in place, and the entire crew was ready.
Yet at a time like this, that damn brat Daren was still nowhere to be seen!
If it had been anyone else, it wouldn't have mattered—as long as the ceremony went on smoothly, medals could always be awarded afterward.
But Daren? Absolutely not.
He was the centerpiece of this entire graduation ceremony!
The man who single-handedly annihilated Shiki's pirate aerial fleet.
The undisputed top graduate of the training camp.
The "monster" of the Marine's new generation. A genius on the verge of entering the Navy's core leadership.
The key figure who had played the most pivotal role in defending Marineford.
With so many accolades and honors under his belt, it wasn't an exaggeration to say this whole ceremony was built around Daren.
Most of the media outlets and reporters gathered from around the world had come specifically to cover him.
Without him, the entire ceremony would lose its spark.
The Marine Headquarters had poured tremendous effort into preparing for this event—inviting news agencies from all over with the hope that the ceremony, especially Daren's speech, would inject a much-needed boost of morale into a force that had been reeling.
Watching the seconds tick away, Sengoku began to sweat nervously.
"Fleet Admiral Kong, I've already sent someone to urge him along. Daren's always been reliable. I doubt anything's gone wrong."
Kong took a long breath, forcing down his frustration.
The trip to Mary Geoise had been grueling. The physical fatigue was one thing—what drained him most was having to humble himself to beg the World Government for funds.
Especially when the Five Elders took turns mocking and sneering at him. Kong felt his dignity as Fleet Admiral being stomped into the ground.
It was a bitter pill to swallow. But this was his duty.
"…We'll give him a bit more time."
Kong's voice was low and firm.
One minute passed.
Three minutes.
Five.
Ten...
Fifteen minutes went by.
Watching Kong's expression grow darker by the second, Sengoku's back was soaked with cold sweat.
"Fleet Admiral Kong... maybe we should begin the ceremony?" he offered cautiously, gritting his teeth.
"Daren's appearance was scheduled for the end anyway."
A vein bulged on Kong's forehead.
"…Fine."
His response was ice-cold.
Sengoku, as if relieved of a great burden, immediately raised his hand and signaled the herald.
Moments later, the solemn sound of a military bugle echoed across the grounds.
The stately, distant melody washed over the square, instantly blanketing the atmosphere in a heavy sense of gravity.
The roar of the crowd, once overwhelming, faded with the first notes of the bugle. But their anticipation remained palpable—eyes burning with excitement, voices restrained but restless, heads packed tight like waves crashing toward the stage.
A tall, imposing figure slowly rose from the front row.
His short, vivid purple hair and signature sunglasses caught the light, while the long cape of the Marines flowed behind him with each step, lending him a powerful, dignified presence.
The crowd held its breath. Reporters frantically raised their cameras, shutters clicking without pause.
Under the spotlight of countless stares and relentless flashes, Zephyr climbed the steps steadily, then took his place at the center of the platform.
He turned to face the seemingly endless rows of seats stretching into the distance, packed with Marines and civilians alike.
And on his stern face… a faint smile began to bloom.
He saluted solemnly and called out in a clear, commanding voice:
"I am Zephyr, Chief Instructor of the Marine Headquarters Officer Training Camp.
I now officially declare—the graduation ceremony of the third Elite Officer Training Camp... begins!"
As his words fell, an earth-shaking roar of cheers erupted like crashing waves.
Every Marine in the seating area stood in unison and snapped to attention with a salute.
Around the square, and in countless locations where people watched via Den Den Mushi live broadcasts, the crowd surged forward, their faces lit with excitement—cheering, shouting, waving with all their might.
This was a festival of justice.
Zephyr spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture and laughed heartily.
"Let's now welcome the outstanding cadets of this year's training camp!"
All eyes turned as one toward the far end of the long red carpet.
At the grand entrance, one after another, young figures stepped into view, expressions stern and focused.
Dressed in crisp, spotless uniforms, they walked with firm steps, white capes fluttering behind them in the wind.
Sunlight poured down, illuminating their spirited, determined faces—radiating a sense of purpose and promise that moved the crowd.
In an instant, waves of cheers engulfed the plaza.
"They're here!!"
"That's Commander Gion! Our headquarters' very own 'flower of the Marines'! She's absolutely stunning!"
"And look! That's Captain Kuzan! The young man who earned the title of 'monster'! During the defense of Marineford, he used his powerful Devil Fruit abilities to hold off Shiki!"
"Captain Yamakaji! Just like the rumors say—he looks so gentle and kind!"
"That's Captain Doberman... a master swordsman with incredible strength! That aura is overwhelming!"
"Wait, who's that in shorts?"
"You don't know? That sketchy-looking guy is Commander Tokikake—one of our headquarters' top geniuses. Word is, he's almost at monster level... though, well, that's just the rumor."
...
As each young face appeared, the crowd broke into excited murmurs.
Gion, tall and poised, her hair tied in a high ponytail.
Kuzan, yawning with sleepy eyes.
Tokikake, in flip-flops and shorts, a toothpick in his mouth, grinning and waving wildly to the crowd.
Yamakaji, simple and a little shy.
Doberman, looking composed on the outside but sweating nervously beneath the surface.
Dalmatian, wearing his signature spotted dog hat.
Onigumo, with a cold, stern expression and lifeless gaze.
These were the names destined to shake the seas in years to come—together forming the flourishing "Golden Generation" of the Marines.
The crowd erupted with cheers. Marines watched with admiration and awe. Reporters frantically snapped photos, capturing every moment.
"Youth really is something special..."
Sengoku clapped softly, eyes fixed on the slow procession of young Marines. His expression was full of emotion.
Once, he'd been just like them—young, driven, burning with ambition and energy, charging into the path of justice.
In the blink of an eye, so many years had passed. Everything had changed.
Most of the comrades he once fought beside now slept beneath the sea, their lifeless bodies wrapped beneath the bloodstained seagull flag.
He had endured countless trials, celebrated glorious victories. Their enemies had changed—from Rocks, to Whitebeard, Kaidou, Shiki, Big Mom...
Sengoku felt a wave of nostalgia and sorrow rise in his heart.
Just then—
Crunch, crunch...
A sharp, crisp sound rang out beside him.
Snapped out of his thoughts, Sengoku's mouth twitched. He turned abruptly and barked at Garp, who was casually munching on senbei.
"Garp, you bastard! Can't you stop eating for one damn moment!?"
Garp let out a carefree chuckle.
Sengoku: ...
Well. Some things never change.