"Hey kid, don't be so arrogant. Come back quickly. If the Marines catch wind of this, they might arrest you!" Whitebeard's voice rumbled through the Den Den Mushi, carrying a note of concern.
"Don't worry, old man, I know what I'm doing. I'll be back as soon as I've eaten my fill here, haha!" With that, Thorne Ashveil hung up the call.
"You brat, you must come back immediately—" Whitebeard's voice cut off, replaced by the steady click, click of the busy signal.
The old man sighed, shaking his head helplessly. Ashveil was remarkable in many ways, but he had one flaw—he was far too much of a slacker. To him, nothing in the world was more important than eating, drinking, sleeping, and playing. Controlling him was impossible. Even ten years ago, his Conqueror's Haki had already been on par with Whitebeard's own.
After ending the call, Ashveil sprawled back on the bed and resumed his nap, sleeping soundly until dinner time.
He woke naturally with a yawn, stretching as the sun dipped lower.
"Dinner time again, haha! The food here's decent, but without a Visual Den Den Mushi or game console, it gets boring fast."
When he entered the mess hall, the Marines were still drilling. They wouldn't eat until six o'clock sharp. After the exercise ended, the mess hall quickly filled with uniformed men.
This time Ashveil wasn't feeling drowsy, so he leaned against a wall, lazily observing the crowd and eavesdropping on their chatter. Most of the conversation was trivial—complaints about the intensity of Marine training, how unbearable Akainu's temper was, or tips for avoiding seasickness.
Interestingly, no one bothered to remind him about not wearing a uniform anymore. Ashveil smirked at that. With no entertainment to occupy him, listening to their lives was at least mildly amusing.
But when a Marine Colonel mentioned a certain name, his attention sharpened instantly.
"That's right, Ace's execution date will be announced soon!"
"At that time, the Whitebeard Pirates are sure to make a move. Our job is to wipe them out once and for all!" the Colonel declared firmly.
A Lieutenant Colonel nearby frowned. "But if that happens, we'll suffer heavy losses too."
The Colonel fell silent for a moment before gazing ahead in the direction of their course.
"That's why our mission this time is crucial. We've been dispatched to recruit one of the Shichibukai—Donquixote Doflamingo. If we bring him to Marineford, his power will give us the edge we need."
"I heard Doflamingo's arrogant," the Lieutenant Colonel muttered. "When we reach Dressrosa, we should avoid provoking him. Best not to cause friction at such a delicate time."
Ashveil's eyes glimmered with interest. So, the warship he had boarded was heading to Dressrosa, and their task was to summon the Heavenly Demon himself, Donquixote Doflamingo.
A slow grin tugged at his lips.
"If the Marines want Doflamingo, then I'll make sure he ends up on my side instead."
Activating his Search Ability, Ashveil confirmed it would take until the next morning to reach Dressrosa. That was fine. He'd bide his time for one more night. Tomorrow, he would personally meet Doflamingo. If the man was wise enough to ally with Whitebeard, all would be well. If not… Ashveil had no issue erasing a so-called Celestial Dragon from the world.
After dinner, boredom gnawed at him again, so he returned to his dormitory. But his rest was soon disturbed. A Marine Major entered, his rank displayed proudly on his shoulders.
"Where did this recruit crawl from? This is Major Benn's quarters. Such insolence! I'm punishing you with a ten-kilometer run—immediately!" the Major barked.
Ashveil sat up lazily, his sharp gaze falling on the officer. That single glance carried the crushing force of his will.
The Major froze as though struck by lightning. His body stiffened, sweat poured down his forehead, and his eyes rolled back in horror. "Th-this… Conqueror's Haki?! Who… who are you…?"
He collapsed on the spot, unconscious, twitching faintly on the floor. It would be days before he stirred again.
Ashveil yawned, stretching like a cat. "Sorry, I'm borrowing your room. The bed's mine, so you'll have to make do with the floor."
The next morning, a Marine's voice rang out across the warship.
"Report, Vice Admiral Bastille, we've reached Dressrosa!"
Ashveil sat up, rubbing his eyes. So, the highest officer on this vessel was Bastille—the man with long reddish-brown hair, a horned mask riddled with holes, and a massive saw-bladed sword. Ashveil chuckled faintly. He remembered Bastille's fate in Dressrosa all too well. The man had looked imposing, but when Sabo appeared, he had fallen in a single strike.
On deck, Marines stood in perfect formation, lined row after row as Bastille began roll call.
"Major Benn! Major Benn!" Bastille's voice grew sharper with each repetition. His patience thinned, and his expression hardened beneath the mask.
"Does he not know the importance of this mission? Someone, wake Major Benn at once! Drag him here if you must!"
Ashveil smirked knowingly as he leaned against the wall.
So, the poor fool lying unconscious in his room from last night had been Major Benn after all.
___
Read ahead of everyone at patreon.com/Zphyr_