The morning sun burned off the mist clinging to the harbor at the 113th Branch. Base Commander Captain Milde stood at attention near the dock, flanked by his officers. As the only two Captains in the entire base, Finn naturally stood beside him.
They were waiting for the arrival of important figures from Marine Headquarters.
Milde was a middle-aged man in his forties with a weathered face and sharp eyes that suggested competence. The reality was somewhat different. Beneath the military bearing, he was cunning, always calculating angles, always protecting his position.
In terms of pure strength, Finn had already surpassed him. But Milde had seniority, years of service that granted him authority Finn's raw power couldn't challenge. So command of the 113th Branch remained firmly in his hands.
Their relationship was cordial enough. Milde had been wary of Finn initially, concerned this young upstart might try to seize control. But he'd gradually realized that Finn had no interest whatsoever in the 113th Branch's internal politics. The younger man's ambitions pointed in only one direction: Marine Headquarters.
And today represented his chance.
From Milde's perspective, Finn's departure would be ideal. Once the young Captain transferred to Marineford, no one in the 113th Branch would threaten Milde's authority. So he'd thrown his full support behind Finn's application.
"Finn, you need to perform well today," Milde said with a smile, clapping him on the shoulder. "You're the youngest and most promising Captain in the entire North Blue."
Finn returned the smile easily. "I'll do my best to prove myself."
The situation was complicated, really. The North Blue was deteriorating. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say the entire world was deteriorating, sliding toward chaos.
The Branch Marines stationed in the Grand Line and the forces at Marineford itself still maintained some semblance of principled behavior. But across the Four Blues, the calmer seas far from the Grand Line's dangers, the Marines as an institution had grown decadent. Corrupt.
Take Captain Milde, for instance. Finn knew for a fact the man had accepted bribes, embezzled funds, and abused his authority for personal gain on numerous occasions. Dirty dealings were practically his hobby.
But Finn didn't care. He hadn't joined the Marines out of some burning passion for justice. He'd joined to survive. To claw his way up from nothing and build a life worth living.
Justice was a luxury for people who could afford ideals.
As the two men made small talk, a massive shape appeared on the horizon. A Marine warship, vastly larger than anything stationed in the North Blue, cut through the waves toward the harbor.
The difference between Headquarters and Branch vessels was staggering.
Branch ships like those of the 113th were modest affairs, roughly the size of armed merchant vessels. They could carry perhaps a hundred Marines and mounted adequate but unimpressive armaments. Functional, nothing more.
The Headquarters warship approaching now was a different beast entirely. Enormous, easily classified as a capital ship. Finn knew from his research that each Headquarters vessel could carry at least a thousand Marines and boasted firepower that dwarfed anything the Branches possessed.
Rumor claimed that a Buster Call fleet, ten Headquarters warships acting in concert, could completely erase an island from existence. Looking at the approaching vessel, Finn believed it.
Even the speed was humbling. Despite its massive size, the Headquarters ship moved several times faster than Branch vessels. Within minutes, it had crossed from the horizon to the dock, the Marine flag snapping proudly from its mast.
A boarding ramp descended. Several figures emerged from the ship's interior.
Unlike the Branch Marines, these men wore the white Justice coats that marked Headquarters officers. The fabric billowed behind them as they descended, lending them an almost mythic quality.
Finn recognized two of them immediately. His pulse quickened despite his best efforts to remain calm.
Two Admirals of Marine Headquarters stood before him.
Sengoku the Buddha and Black Arm Zephyr.
Technically, Zephyr wasn't a true Admiral anymore. He'd retired from active duty several years ago after a personal tragedy. During a mission, he'd shown mercy to a group of pirates, letting them go. Those same pirates had returned and slaughtered his family.
The psychological trauma had convinced Zephyr he could no longer fulfill an Admiral's duties. He'd stepped back from the front lines and taken up the role of instructor instead. Now he retained the Admiral rank in name only, a courtesy title acknowledging his past service.
Sengoku, on the other hand, was at the peak of his power. Currently an Admiral, he was destined to become Fleet Admiral in the years ahead. A brilliant tactician and a monster in combat.
But despite Sengoku's impressive credentials, Finn's attention focused on Zephyr.
After his retirement from active combat, Zephyr had formally established the Marine Officer Training Camp system. Officially called a training camp, it was essentially a military academy designed to forge elite Marine officers.
Located at Headquarters, it represented the single best path to real power within the organization.
Zephyr had experimented with the concept before his retirement, refining his methods through trial and practice. And he'd already produced results that spoke for themselves.
Three students in particular stood as proof of his methods: Sakaski, Borsalino, and Kuzan.
Those three would eventually become Admirals themselves, the highest-ranking combatants in all of Marine Headquarters.
Beyond them, Zephyr had trained countless elite officers. The future Vice Admirals and Rear Admirals of Headquarters would nearly all be his disciples. His legacy was already secure.
In Finn's eyes, Zephyr was the ideal teacher. Latch onto him, keep pace with his training, and becoming stronger was almost inevitable. The man had a proven track record of creating monsters.
The Officer Training Camp had been operational for several years now, producing wave after wave of exceptional Marines. Periodically, Zephyr traveled throughout the Marine organization searching for promising talent to bring back to Headquarters for training.
That's why he'd come to the North Blue.
The Admirals descended the ramp and stood on the dock, morning light gleaming off their coat buttons.
Captain Milde snapped to attention, his salute crisp. "Captain Milde, Commander of Marine Headquarters 113th Branch, North Blue!"
Finn followed suit. "Captain Rodriguez Finn, Deputy Commander of Marine Headquarters 113th Branch, North Blue!"
The formal introductions were standard Marine protocol.
Admiral Sengoku's face softened into a gentle smile. He nodded to both of them. "You have our gratitude. It's officers like you who uphold justice in these distant waters."
"Everything for justice!" Finn and Milde responded in unison, their voices ringing across the dock.
Admiral Zephyr's eyes fixed on Finn with an evaluating intensity. "Finn. You're the youngest Captain in the North Blue?"
"Yes, Admiral Zephyr, sir!" Finn kept his posture rigid, his tone formal.
"Good. The Marines need young blood with energy and drive." Zephyr stroked his chin thoughtfully. "The North Blue Commander submitted your name for the Officer Training Camp assessment. As I understand it, you're the only nominee from the entire North Blue this year. I hope you won't make me regret traveling all this way."
The North Blue Commander, despite holding only the rank of Captain, occupied a unique position. He was the sole Headquarters Captain assigned to oversee an entire sea. That gave him authority to command all Marine forces in the North Blue and, crucially, the power to recommend candidates for Zephyr's training camp.
It was a rare and special position. Only four such Commander existed, one for each of the Four Blues.
Though with the recent surge in piracy, the Great Pirate Era that Roger's execution had sparked, these regional Commander were becoming increasingly irrelevant. Their authority was eroding, their influence waning as the world descended into chaos.
But for now, the North Blue Commander still wielded the power to change lives.
This year, Finn was his only recommendation from the entire region.
Not because Finn was extraordinarily talented. Because the North Blue Marines were extraordinarily mediocre.
Finn had expected to be summoned directly to Marineford for the assessment. Instead, Zephyr had traveled here personally to evaluate him. The dedication was impressive. And for some reason, Admiral Sengoku had accompanied him as well.
Finn felt no anxiety about the scrutiny. He knew that moments like this demanded confidence. Self-doubt would mark him as weak.
"I promise I won't disappoint you, Admiral," he said firmly.
He had no idea what the assessment would actually entail, but that hardly mattered.
Before he could speculate further, Captain Milde spoke up. "Admirals, please, allow me to escort you to the base. You must be tired from your journey."
Both Zephyr and Sengoku shook their heads in unison.
"Unnecessary," Sengoku said. "We have other matters requiring our attention and will be departing shortly."
"We'll begin the assessment immediately," Zephyr added.
Milde's face fell slightly, but he knew better than to press. He nodded and stepped aside, effectively dismissed.
Finn straightened, preparing himself for whatever came next.
"Don't overthink it," Zephyr said, his tone conversational. "Let me ask you two questions first. Why did you join the Marines? And what does justice mean to you?"
Finn didn't hesitate. "I joined the Marines because I couldn't survive otherwise, sir. I thought if I joined, the organization would protect me. Give me a chance to live."
He didn't embellish or lie. That was the truth. He hadn't joined out of some noble calling or idealistic vision of justice. He'd joined because the alternative was starving in an alley somewhere.
Zephyr's expression didn't change, but he nodded slightly. Before arriving, he'd thoroughly reviewed Captain Rodriguez Finn's file.
Born a commoner. Family destroyed when he was young, the details unclear but tragic. Spent years as a street child, surviving however he could. Finally joined the Marines at twelve as a menial laborer because he had no other options.
Worked his way up from the very bottom over seven years to reach Branch Captain.
The file matched the answer. The kid wasn't lying.
"And what does justice mean to you?" Zephyr asked.
Again, Finn didn't lie. He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry, Instructor Zephyr. I haven't found my answer to that question yet."
"Hahahaha!" Zephyr's laugh was sudden and genuine. "So you're confused?"
Finn nodded but said nothing.
Confused was an understatement. He was a transmigrator navigating a world of pirates and supernatural powers, trying to survive long enough to matter. Justice? He'd figure that out once he had the luxury of safety.
"On these two questions, you pass, Captain Finn." Zephyr reached out and placed a hand on Finn's shoulder, his grip warm and firm. "You're young. Confusion is natural. But youth also means possibility. One day, you'll find your own justice."
His tone had shifted completely, no longer the stern Admiral but something gentler. Almost paternal.
"Yes, Instructor Zephyr," Finn replied quietly.
"Good." Zephyr stepped back and casually patted his own chest. "Now let's test why you were recommended. Use your full strength and attack me."