Chapter 47: Zephyr: Afraid the Campus Isn’t Violent Enough? Keep Going—Fight Him!

When a ruckus like this broke out under Zephyr's watch, Admiral Sengoku, who had just returned from outside, and Garp, ever eager for a bit of fun, weren't about to miss it. Led by Gion, the three headed straight for the training ground, with Kuzan trailing behind, just as interested in the spectacle.

The others had work to do and didn't get involved.

By the time Zephyr and the rest arrived, a large crowd of trainees and Marines who happened to be training nearby had already formed a ring around the sparring area, watching intently.

"The Admiral's here—make way!" a few sharp-eyed Marine officers called out, quickly clearing a path for Sengoku and the others.

Even before they stepped inside, the deep rumble of thunder echoed from within.

Fortunately, they were all tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd.

Inside, Ortoren stood in a black vest, his solid muscles on full display, wielding a massive war hammer wrapped in silver lightning that twisted and writhed like a serpent. He swung it in wide arcs, and each strike tore through the air with a piercing whistle.

It should have been a three-on-one fight, but now only Dalmatian and Onigumo were scrambling to dodge the heavy swings. The instigator, Doberman, was already lying at the edge of the arena, while several Marines from the medical corps worked urgently to treat him.

Gion grabbed a nearby Marine officer. "What happened? How's Commodore Doberman?"

The officer quickly explained, "As soon as Commodore Doberman stepped in, he tried to take that hammer head-on. But with just one blow, he was sent flying. I'm not sure about the exact damage, but it looked like his arm bone's broken, several ribs too. He spat up blood a few times and tried to get up, but couldn't. The medics rushed over right away!"

Gion was taken aback. Doberman wasn't some no-name—he was among the top Commodores in headquarters. Otherwise, he wouldn't have been picked as one of Zephyr-sensei's elite recruits.

In fact, Doberman was notorious among Commodores. Known as the "mad dog," the countless scars on his body spoke of a man who fought like one too.

And yet, someone like that had been taken out by Ortoren in a single blow.

As for Doberman's condition, neither Gion, the officer, nor even Admirals Sengoku and Zephyr seemed concerned. The Marines' medical capabilities were top-notch, with plenty of ability users specializing in treatment. As long as you weren't killed outright, recovery at headquarters was guaranteed.

Just as Gion processed this, the fight shifted again. Onigumo evaded Ortoren's hammer and closed the distance in a flash. The blade in his hand gleamed as he swung for Ortoren's wrist. It was clear they were holding back in a spar—on the battlefield, that strike would've gone for the neck.

Ortoren's bloodshot eyes burned with aggression, but he hadn't lost all reason like during a full moon. He still sensed that "line" and kept his own strikes from turning lethal.

As Onigumo's slash came down, Ortoren loosened his grip on the hammer, holding it with one hand while freeing the targeted arm. Coating his palm in Haki, he reached straight for the blade.

A heartbeat later, his hand closed around the steel—but Onigumo didn't flinch. If anything, it seemed like he'd been waiting for this. He tightened his grip and pushed back, locking into a test of strength with Ortoren.

Ortoren frowned. This didn't make sense. Doberman's defeat had already proven his raw power, and Onigumo's earlier evasions showed he knew it too. So why would he dare grapple now?

Before the thought could settle, the long black hair trailing from Onigumo's back came alive. Like a spider's web or a fisherman's net, it spread over Ortoren in an instant, wrapping tightly around him until all four of his limbs were bound.

Just as Onigumo got a firm grip, Dalmatian let out a low growl, his body rapidly shifting until he fully transformed into a dog-man. He was, after all, a Zoan-type Devil Fruit user—the Inu Inu no Mi, Model: Dalmatian.

Though not a Mythical or Ancient Zoan, as a carnivorous Zoan user his attacks were still ferociously aggressive.

With a powerful kick, he launched himself like a cannonball straight at Ortoren. There was a heavy thud as he slammed into him, knocking him to the ground before Ortoren could break free from Onigumo's "hair."

"He's too strong, I can't hold him much longer—lock his joints!" Onigumo said through gritted teeth.

His face, already naturally long and stern, now twisted into something almost demonic. The pain wasn't from fear, but from the sheer force Ortoren was exerting—his muscles swelling, straining against the binding hair, pulling so hard it felt like Onigumo's scalp might be ripped clean off.

Joint locks, in certain situations, could let a weaker fighter overcome a stronger one. That was exactly what Dalmatian had in mind.

You might have monstrous natural strength, but I'm a Zoan user too, and strength is my specialty. With my joint techniques and Onigumo's hair holding you, we should be able to pin you down.

But before Dalmatian could make his move, the sky suddenly darkened.

The Marines watching from the sidelines looked up to see black clouds gathering over the training ground in an instant, like a giant dark bowl had been placed upside down above them.

"What…?" Gion's eyes widened in surprise.

"Lightning Burial!!!" Ortoren's furious roar echoed from the center of the field.

In the next moment, the gloom was torn apart by blinding lightning. A pillar of electricity, easily ten meters wide, crashed down from the heavens, striking the center of the training ground and swallowing Onigumo, Dalmatian, and Ortoren in one blinding blast.

The Marines didn't need to feel the impact to know how dangerous it was. They could see the molten sheen forming on the bricks where the lightning struck—the sheer heat was enough to partially melt the ground.

Anyone caught inside… they didn't even need to imagine.

Sure enough, after just a couple of seconds, the lightning faded. Ortoren had already broken free from Onigumo's restraints, no longer holding his war hammer. Instead, he stood there gripping two charred, smoke-trailing figures—one in each hand.

It was obvious enough—Onigumo in one, Dalmatian in the other.

Maybe it was the release of tension from the fight, but Ortoren's eyes looked noticeably clearer now, the raging-bull fury gone.

"Three-on-one, and they still got taken out. Oh well~" Kuzan stood beside Zephyr, his tone dripping with amused detachment.

"What's more," Sengoku added, stroking the braided beard on his chin, "the kid barely has any fighting skill or experience. He's relying entirely on brute strength and the Goro Goro no Mi's raw power."

Onigumo, Doberman, Dalmatian—each of them was a fully ranked Marine Commodore, highly trained in coordinated tactics, seasoned by countless battles, and skilled in both combat techniques and martial arts.

Compared to them, Ortoren's combat experience was clearly lacking—practically zero—and his technique was minimal at best. He fought with wild, unpolished swings, and as for his mastery of the Goro Goro no Mi, that "Lightning Burial" just now was nothing more than raw, uncontrolled energy unleashed in one burst.

And yet, in a three-on-one, he'd taken them all down in moments. To Sengoku, that made the kid a true rough gem.

"Gion," Admiral Zephyr said suddenly, "send for a few more—have Momonga and the others join the fight."

"Huh?" Gion blinked. Was Zephyr-sensei worried the campus wasn't violent enough?

But when she saw his serious expression, she nodded. "Understood, sensei."

Sengoku smiled. "Starting the fine-tuning already?"

"It's the perfect chance," Zephyr laughed. "Let's see just how sharp his combat instincts really are."

As a teacher, Zephyr felt it was important to first gauge the raw quality of this student's fighting instincts. Only then could he tailor his teaching properly.

In short—he wanted Ortoren's baseline data.