"Cough—sorry about that. It's just… your stare was a little intense."
Gern cleared his throat and smoothly steered the conversation back on track.
"I didn't expect Vice Admiral Garp to even tell you about that."
"It wasn't just him."
Dragon let out a quiet sigh, his voice low.
"The entire Headquarters is talking about you now.
Anyone who dares to challenge Whitebeard head-on—
and even forces him to use Conqueror's coating—
your courage isn't small."
Gern chuckled lightly.
"Courage alone doesn't mean enough strength.
Otherwise, I wouldn't be sitting here—I'd already be sinking at the bottom of the sea."
Dragon didn't reply immediately.
After a moment of silence, he suddenly asked:
"Do you really believe… justice can be delayed?"
Gern narrowed his eyes.
That question carried weight.
At this point in time, Dragon had likely already begun questioning the World Government.
Especially after the God Valley Incident—
having personally witnessed the Celestial Dragons' cruelty,
his faith in so-called "justice" must already be cracking.
"I asked my father about your record," Dragon continued quietly.
"You also participated in God Valley.
That slaughter disguised as a 'noble game'…"
"I don't know whether justice is delayed or not,"
Gern interrupted calmly.
"But I do know this—
once the people who execute justice start doubting themselves,
then justice truly becomes nothing more than empty words."
Dragon's pupils contracted slightly.
He stared at Gern and replied evenly:
"The Navy exists to maintain order.
But if that order itself is distorted…
then what value does justice still hold?"
The air seemed to freeze.
Dragon's gaze deepened, fixed on Gern, as if trying to uncover what lay beneath those words.
But Gern wasn't foolish.
Even without Observation Haki, as a Logia-type Heavenly Quake user,
he could clearly sense subtle vibrations—
For example—
Vice Admiral Zephyr, currently leaning against the wall under the left window… eavesdropping.
So Gern pretended to think for a long moment before answering slowly:
"Then what about your justice?"
"You say the order is distorted—but in my view,
whether the Navy is just or not depends on who it serves and how it acts,
not on abstract order itself.
Binding the Navy entirely to 'order' ignores the complexity of its role.
Your true criticism should be aimed at the power structures that abuse the Navy—
the World Government—not at denying the core value of justice itself."
He continued evenly:
"Dragon, your father is Vice Admiral Garp—the 'Hero of the Marines.'
Justice is a dynamic process.
You can't deny all value just because the system is flawed."
Dragon didn't pursue the topic further.
He simply looked at Gern deeply, then turned toward the door.
In a voice only Gern could hear, he said softly:
"I have no justice."
The door closed.
The office returned to silence.
Moments later—
The left window was pushed open from outside.
Zephyr's figure flipped inside with athletic ease, his purple hair unmoved by the wind, sunglasses reflecting straight at Gern.
"Eavesdropping isn't a good habit, Vice Admiral Zephyr,"
Gern said without looking up, fingers lightly tapping the desk.
"Hah!" Zephyr snorted and strode to his desk.
"Testing a subordinate's ideological resolve is a superior's privilege."
He removed his sunglasses, sharp eyes examining Gern.
"Your answer… was satisfactory."
Gern shrugged helplessly.
"Just telling the truth."
"And that's exactly why it's rare."
Zephyr tossed a file onto Gern's desk.
Inside were dossiers on several recently active pirates—
similar to future Supernovas, though the term didn't exist yet.
For now, they were simply labeled 'troublesome pirates'.
"Most people either blindly agree with Dragon or fiercely oppose him,"
Zephyr said calmly.
"But you grasped the core of the issue. That's good.
The Fleet Admiral said you're from the West Blue,
that your sense of justice is vague,
even suggested sending you to the Naval Academy."
Zephyr chuckled.
"In my eyes?
You're as orthodox as it gets.
Origin doesn't matter.
I've always had a precise eye for people.
You—Gern Reginald Sigma—
your ideological awareness of justice is extremely high!"
Gern ignored Zephyr's self-indulgent praise and flipped through the file instead.
Then he looked up.
"So… Captain Dragon—"
"A lost lamb," Zephyr cut in, rare regret in his tone.
"Sigh… that fool Garp. Too busy chasing Roger to even raise his own son properly."
He stepped closer and patted Gern's shoulder heavily.
"But you're different."
The usually stern Black Arm now wore a look of genuine approval.
"This afternoon.
Training Ground No. 1."
Zephyr put his sunglasses back on.
"It's time you learn what true power really is."
Gern closed the file, lips curving slightly.
"Haki training?"
"Not training," Zephyr replied, voice deep and firm.
"It's to make you understand that no matter how strong a Devil Fruit is, it's still external.
A true powerhouse…"
He tapped his chest.
"Draws strength from here."
Gern blinked.
"So… I'm getting beaten up?"
"What kind of wording is that?!"
Zephyr snapped.
"This is enlightenment!
Getting beaten up—that's Garp's style!"
Noon sunlight filtered through the window, casting broken shadows across Zephyr's cape.
Gern looked at the future Admiral and realized—
He was standing at a crucial turning point.
Damn it. If I have to get beaten, then so be it.
"I'll be there on time."
Gern stood and gave a firm salute.
Zephyr nodded and headed for the door.
Just before leaving, he paused.
"Oh, Gern."
"Mm? Any additional beating instructions?"
"That sword of yours…"
Zephyr's voice lowered.
"Eight Desolations, right? Don't bring it this afternoon."
The door closed.
Gern stood alone in the office, reaching back to touch the black blade.
A faint vibration answered his hand.
"Great… even my weapon cheat is banned."
"If you like the story and chapter please support the story with power stones"