Sunlight streamed through the ancient castle's windows, casting diamond-shaped patches on the floor. Ryan lay on the bed, his body wrapped entirely in white bandages, with only his face, hands, and feet exposed.
He had now returned to his human form—a young man who appeared to be around twenty years old. His features were delicate, with a straight nose bridge, though his face still bore the pallor of illness, and his lips lacked color. His slightly messy black hair had been neatly arranged, lying against his forehead and gently rising and falling with each breath.
A week had passed since that brutal fight.
When he was first carried back, there wasn't a single part of his body left unscathed. The wound on his back was deep enough to reveal bone, his hind leg was nearly torn apart, and the flesh on his abdomen was torn and mangled. Even Indigo had remarked that his survival was nothing short of a miracle.
But thanks to the power of the Artificial Dragon Fruit, his wounds were gradually healing. Though the pain was intense, the feeling of clawing his way back from the brink of death was unmistakably vivid.
Ryan slowly opened his eyes, staring at the carved patterns on the ceiling, but his thoughts drifted back to that blood-soaked arena.
The Bat Lion's fangs, the pools of blood on the ground, Golden Lion's cold gaze... each scene was etched into his mind, impossible to shake off.
That fight had been like a bucket of cold water, jolting him awake.
He used to believe that, even in this world of pirates, his knowledge of the plot would allow him to find a relatively safe path.
But now he understood—that was nothing but self-deception.
This was not a world governed by laws and reason. It was a jungle where the strong preyed on the weak. Without power, one could only be trampled upon, manipulated like an insignificant ant.
Only the strong were worthy of living, worthy of speaking.
He had survived—not because of Golden Lion's mercy, nor because of sheer luck—but because of the survival instinct that had erupted within him at the last moment, and because of the power granted by that Fruit.
"I must become stronger," Ryan said to himself, his voice quiet but resolute.
He didn't want to be controlled like he was in the arena, with his life and death in someone else's hands. He didn't want to live at the mercy of others, nor have his fate decided by anyone else.
He wanted to grasp his own power, to become strong enough—strong enough to fear no one, strong enough to truly live for himself on these vast seas.
The chirping of birds drifted in from outside the window, and the warm sunlight bathed him in a gentle warmth. Ryan twitched his fingers. Though it still hurt, he could feel a new strength slowly awakening within his body.
He knew this path would be arduous, and he might even lose his life at any moment. But there was no turning back now.
That most primitive and brutal fight had not only allowed him to survive but had fundamentally changed him. He was no longer the ordinary office worker who had just crossed over, still clinging to naive hopes.
He was Ryan—a man determined to survive in this world of pirates, to grow stronger by his own strength.
Ryan took a deep breath and slowly sat up. Though the movement tugged at his wounds, making him grimace in pain, his eyes were filled with an unprecedented determination.
To grow stronger—starting now.
The door slammed open with a loud crash, and Scarlet's massive frame blocked the doorway. His furry face showed no expression as he snorted at Ryan before turning and walking away—the meaning was unmistakable: follow him.
Suppressing the dull ache from his wounds, Ryan slowly rose from the bed. The bandages tightened as he moved, but he flexed his wrist and felt his strength returning bit by bit.
Following Scarlet through the castle corridors, they didn't head toward the arena this time but instead arrived at a spacious training ground. Rows of wooden dummies stood along the edges, and broken wooden swords lay scattered across the floor.
Golden Lion stood with his back to them in the center of the field, his golden hair shimmering in the morning light.
Hearing their footsteps, he slowly turned around, his eyes scanning Ryan up and down as if evaluating a tool.
"You've recovered faster than expected," he said, his tone betraying neither approval nor displeasure. "But don't think surviving makes you special."
Ryan remained silent, standing quietly.
Golden Lion scoffed, pointing a finger at him. "Your ability is far inferior to Kaido's. You can't withstand cannon fire, let alone a simple sword slash."
Ryan knew he was right. The hardness and regenerative power of his Scales were nowhere near Kaido's level.
But that wasn't the main reason.
Kaido was a seasoned powerhouse who had lived for decades, while Ryan had only just acquired this power. There was no comparison.
"Relying solely on your Fruit ability will get you killed sooner or later," Golden Lion said, as if reading his thoughts. Suddenly, he kicked a long sword wrapped in cloth toward Ryan.
The sword clattered to the ground at Ryan's feet, its hilt engraved with faint blade patterns.
"Your ability is too weak. Starting today, I'll teach you swordsmanship," Golden Lion declared, his voice carrying an undeniable authority. "Before dawn every day, you'll go to the deck and practice horse stance against the sea breeze for three hours—until you can stand firm even when the ship rocks like a sieve. In the mornings, you'll swing your sword at the wooden dummies, starting with three thousand basic slashes. Train until your sword's trajectory is steadier than an anchor sinking into the sea. If you can split a three-inch-thick wooden board within the first month, you'll pass."
Ryan bent down and picked up the sword. It wasn't light, feeling heavy and solid in his hand. He could feel Golden Lion's gaze on him, scrutinizing and oppressive.
"What? Unwilling?" Golden Lion raised an eyebrow.
"No," Ryan shook his head, cradling the sword in his arms. "I'll do as you say."
He knew all too well that he had no room to negotiate. Whether Golden Lion's motives were genuine or not, this was an opportunity he couldn't afford to waste.
Until he had enough strength, endurance was necessary. Only by enduring everything could he grow stronger and one day truly take control of his own destiny.
Golden Lion's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, as if satisfied with Ryan's compliance.
"Don't mistake this for preferential treatment," he said, turning to walk toward the edge of the training ground. "In my eyes, those who can't learn are no different from the beasts in the arena."
Ryan tightened his grip on the sword, his knuckles turning white from the force. Sunlight streamed through the skylight above, casting mottled shadows over him.
He knew the truly difficult days were just beginning, but this time, he had no intention of backing down.
The path to becoming stronger has never been easy, but he will walk it—step by step, steadily and surely.