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"He's so young for an officer at that level!"
"I heard the navy's got another monster lately, someone even stronger than those three guys… is that him?"
"The man who fought the Dark King Rayleigh?"
"Terrifying!"
Whether male or female, every cadet in the room stared at Kyle with eyes full of awe.
In this world, respect, fear, and admiration for the strong is the unspoken law.
It was his first day at the Naval Academy, but his legend had already spread throughout HQ, especially among academy students who rarely left campus and devoured every rumor they could get.
When he sat down in the back row beside a girl wearing glasses, she immediately started trembling. Her cheeks flushed pink in seconds.
Kyle didn't greet anyone. He looked aloof, hard to approach. And because of the insignia on his shoulder, no one dared disturb him. The pressure was too much.
A moment later, the instructor walked in.
He froze for a second when he saw Kyle, an unmistakable flicker of respect crossing his eyes.
"Rear Admiral Kyle. It's an honor."
Kyle nodded lightly. Nothing more.
Today's class covered naval operations—how to prepare for combat at sea, how to coordinate with fellow officers, how to form encirclement formations to complete missions more efficiently and safely.
Of course, Kyle quickly realized that if your group has one overwhelmingly powerful leader… all those tactics become optional.
Strength rules everything. That truth didn't change.
So to him, this class wasn't exactly life-changing.
After three days of lessons, he had a good grasp of the academy's curriculum.
Basic battle formations. Principles of commanding troops. Standard combat techniques. And, of course, moral education on "justice."
His memory was excellent; he absorbed textbook material quickly.Still, some classes were genuinely useful—lectures on naval technological innovations, world structure, and military science.
One class in particular—ethics—was where he met a young officer who looked like a zombie.
A second lieutenant, about twenty-six.
"Rear Admiral Kyle, I really admire you."
"I've been hearing stories lately… about your battle against the Roger Pirates, about your fight with Rayleigh…"
Despite his frightening appearance, T. Penn had a gentle heart. Around a young superior like Kyle, he was extremely respectful.
"Really? It was just a small fight," Kyle said with a faint smile.
"No way!"
"That was incredible! I want to become a strong man like you!"
"And if, after graduation, I could serve under you… that'd be amazing!"
T. Penn was practically vibrating with excitement.
"I'd be honored," Kyle replied.
That only made T. Penn more thrilled.
Life at the Naval Academy was bland and repetitive, but Kyle enjoyed a fair amount of freedom. He kept up his training every day. One thing both frustrated and annoyed him, though: paper arts. That technique was his natural enemy—no matter how hard he practiced, he couldn't grasp it.
Months passed in relative calm.
His body recovered extremely well. The academy's meals were good, and he went from lean to… substantial. He now weighed close to three hundred pounds.
His muscles bulged; flexing his arms even slightly let him feel explosive power surging beneath the skin.
The ghost-tattoo on his back looked even more vicious.
If he'd looked like this in his previous life, he could've scared a whole gym's worth of bodybuilders.
His chest muscles were so full they looked ready to burst through his shirt. Bit by bit, he was creeping toward Garp-levels of physique.
Female cadets often stole glances at him, practically drooling. That powerful, imposing build had already conquered their imaginations.
Time kept ticking by.
Kyle also made a habit of reading HQ's internal reports.
He soon learned the Celestial Dragon incident on Sabaody had been hastily wrapped up. Vice Admiral Laku took the blame, and an unlucky pirate who happened to be present was executed with his mouth gagged.
Then came the news: Kuzan, Sakazuki, and Borsalino each obtained a Logia-type Devil Fruit and began shining brilliantly within the navy.
Next: Douglas Bullet left the Roger Pirates and emerged as a rising newcomer.
As for his teacher Garp—he was nowhere to be seen, rarely at HQ at all.
Admiral Zephyr, however, frequently visited the academy to offer guidance.
Five months later, Kyle received a gift from Kong himself: a pair of glossy, jet-black gloves with incredible toughness.
"Transforming seastone into gloves… the craftsmanship required is unimaginable," Kong said with a sigh. "We consulted Vegapunk and had to blend in other materials just to make this work."
"Even then, they're not as soft or comfortable as normal gloves. But as a weapon, they're… barely usable."
Kong handed the gloves to him personally.
Kyle felt their weight immediately. Hard, dense—serious tools.
"We originally planned to make brass knuckles. Much easier," Kong continued. "But Garp insisted you needed gloves."
"Treasure them. They're the first pair in the world."
"One of a kind."
"Thank you, Fleet Admiral," Kyle said sincerely.
Kong waved it off and hurried away—he had far too much to do.
After watching him leave, Kyle tried the gloves on. They were rigid but flexible enough to move with. Still, you'd need tremendous strength just to clench a fist.
Closing and opening his hand felt like bending five steel springs.
But there was no doubt—these gloves were lethal against Devil Fruit users.
After that day, Kyle continued his studies at the academy.
...
Another year passed.
Time deepened his understanding of this world and of the navy itself.
There were clear factions within the organization.
Some were fanatics who cared nothing for civilians and existed only to defend the World Nobles and government's version of justice.Some upheld their own beliefs, clinging fiercely to their ideals. Some were kindhearted, full of dreams, longing for strength so they could protect civilians—the ones who embodied true justice.
There were good people in the navy. And bad ones.
None of this surprised Kyle. Humans always have two sides.
Half a year later, he finally mastered paper arts. The skill appeared on his panel at last.
With that, he had learned all six Rokushiki techniques.
During that same period, Garp happened to be at HQ, and after teasing him relentlessly about his slow progress, he taught him Life Return before disappearing again.
"Paper arts is a wall you have to scale," Garp had said.
"But Life Return? That one's easy."
And it was. He grasped it in just a few days.
The moment he did, he felt it—complete control over his body. Every Rokushiki technique could be enhanced through this ability.
"Hair, blood, muscles… even organs."
"Life Return can control all of it."
Kyle's eyes brightened. Something clicked.
"And maybe… aside from Conqueror's Haki, I can faintly sense another type."
It was still vague, but he could feel it—something just outside his body.
Not like Tekkai, which controlled the body from within.This energy came from sensing the world around him.
"Is that… Armament Haki?"
"..."
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