Although Gary had grown very quickly during this time, even the Blood Anchor's First Mate Kururu, wielding a scimitar, would not dare to get surrounded by sailors, let alone Gary who was barehanded.
Thirty people have already exceeded his limits.
Seeing Aiven rush into the battle zone, the veterans, who were already heated, couldn't remember that he was a Candidate Officer and their superior, and immediately split some people off to charge at Aiven.
Having taken quite a few punches and kicks, Gary felt a relief of pressure with Aiven joining in. He instantly went full throttle using Aiven's past teachings, continuously moving around the deck to create localized superiority. At most, he only faced three people at a time, and when more than three came, he would turn and run, perfectly embodying guerrilla tactics.
"Bang—"
"Ouch..."
He swiftly knocked down the veterans one by one.
As for Aiven, needless to say, agility was his specialty; he could easily find openings amidst the siege to counterattack and take down the opponents on the spot.
Aiven grabbed an old soldier's wrist and gently twisted it, delivering a punch to his ribs as he contorted in pain, immediately rendering him combat ineffective.
"Ah—"
The veterans he faced screamed in pain one after another, but were not actually seriously injured. Aiven and Gary specifically targeted their weak areas; though the pain could knock someone out, they would be fine after a night's rest.
In the midst of the melee—no, it should be called a one-sided "slaughter"—none of them noticed a tall middle-aged man in a School Officer uniform and coat who had been watching them for a while from the stern deck.
"Young people really have endless energy!" Captain Gel of the Silver Wings, having already returned to the ship at some point, sighed.
Captain Gel was a tall middle-aged man with short gray hair. Standing on the stern deck with a straight posture, he resembled a majestic cliff by the sea that had stood for millennia, unfazed by raging storms.
During his service, as long as he was onboard, the crew would feel at ease, believing that regardless of the treacherous weather ahead, he could lead them safely back home.
Seeing that both sides of the fight were somewhat restrained, Captain Gel had no desire to interfere too much. Competition in the military wasn't a bad thing. Once they truly set sail, he wouldn't let those fellows have such boundless energy.
"Chris, let the winning side be responsible for throwing the losers back to their cabins and cleaning the deck, just do that." Gel instructed the Boatswain behind him and turned to return to his captain's quarters.
"Yes, sir! By the way, here's the list of personnel added today, would you like to take a look?" Boatswain Chris, who wore a blue cloth headscarf instead of a sailor's hat, handed Gel a few sheets filled with names and profiles after saluting.
"Alright, give it to me, thank you, Chris." Gel took the pages and headed straight off the stern deck.
Returning to his captain's quarters, Gel was momentarily distracted by the vigorous sounds of youth fighting outside.
He looked up at a prominently hung painting in his quarters.
It depicted a two-masted exploration ship riding the wind and waves on the sea, the sky slightly dim with high winds and waves, yet the two vibrant young men on board paid no mind, arms around each other's shoulders, enthusiastically pointing into the distance.
One was tall with gray hair, clearly Gel in his youth; the other was slightly shorter with brown hair and dark eyes, not fitting the typical Phaletis People appearance, instead having the features of the neighboring country Ilya's minority.
Even just from the picture, one could see their excellent camaraderie, unaffected by nationality. Moreover, belonging to the Tulip Alliance, intermarriage had been frequent at both the high and civic levels over centuries, erasing distinct national racial traits.
"Old friend, if it wasn't for unfortunate events, your son should be reaching the age to enlist, right? Would he, like those energetic youngsters outside, get into fights easily? Would he have the courage to write a love letter to his beloved like you did? Hehe..."
"No, no, if you were still alive, you definitely wouldn't let him join the military. You would have him inherit your exploration ship, continuing to be a great explorer, just like we were back then, right?
You said it was the explorer's blood flowing through your family's veins, I know that, Ferman... Galliot!"
Moved by the youngsters' antics, Gel reminisced about his like-minded old friend who tragically passed away early.
After a long while, Gel finally tore his gaze away from the painting, slowly flipping through the new recruit list that had been sitting on his desk for a long time.
Dim Spark, age twenty, in service for five years, stationed on the battleship Sunflower, gunner, evaluated as: excellent...
Oliver Judd, age nineteen, in service for three years, stationed on the battleship Reef, sailsman...
...
Gel seriously flipped through each page, but none of them truly stood out as remarkable talent.
"Gary Fafman, age fifteen, New Recruit (comprehensive second place at the New Recruit Training Camp), Tier: Late-Stage Apprentice Knight."
Gel's eyes lit up; a Late-Stage Apprentice Knight could serve as a solid backbone in melee combat. Even on a battleship, talents that had embarked on the Extraordinary Path were never too many.
Why don't various nations cultivate large-scale extraordinary military? Besides external factors mentioned beforehand, an individual's aptitude, affinity with an Extraordinary Path, and resources for late-stage cultivation make such idealistic approaches unfeasible.
As for Gary having a natural constitution of 0.7, not acquired through the Knight Training Method, Gel found it quite mysterious.
Satisfied, Gel continued to read.
"Aiven Galliot, age fifteen, Sub-Lieutenant..."
Merely seeing the name was like being struck by lightning for Gel, causing him to suddenly stand. Having just reminisced about his old friend and his offspring, seeing this familiar yet unfamiliar name made him lose composure.
He amusingly rubbed his brow; was he still the Gel Cooper who faced mountain collapses and storms without a hint of fear?
"It should just be the same name. After Ferman passed away, his territory was raided by a group of bandits.
Ferman's children all perished during the tumult; I personally went to verify. Later, the town administrator gathered their bodies and erected tombstones, buried in the same cemetery as Ferman and his wife.
I even paid the township authority a fee to maintain the cemetery just a few years ago."
"They... They truly are gone... right?"
Strangely muttered self-talk echoed in the captain's quarters, gradually sinking.
...
The brawl had ended, and Boatswain Chris, following the captain's orders, had Aiven and Gary, the victors, clean up the deck they had dirtied.
Then he returned to his room next to the captain's quarters.
Having accompanied the captain around the Navy Base all day dealing with affairs, it was now evening, and he planned to rest before heading ashore to find a place for a good drink tonight.
"Chris!!" Suddenly a loud shout sounded in the Boatswain's ear; he reflexively jumped up and rushed out, knowing the captain never used such a tone unless it was an emergency.
Bang—
"Captain!" Rushing into the captain's quarters, Boatswain found there didn't seem to be a big incident.
Captain Gel's expression wasn't stern, but instead carried an emotion Chris had never seen on his face—anxiety?
"Take me to this new recruit's room, immediately, right now!" Regardless of the slim possibility, Gel had no intention of letting it slip.
"Yes, sir!"
Chris saw the name "Aiven Galliot" at the end of the list; though he didn't understand what had happened, he knew the captain's orders were unquestionable.
The dutiful Boatswain saluted and led the way to Aiven's room.