The runners at the front shot off at an impressive speed, showing no sign of holding back.
At that pace, unless they slowed down later, they would finish the entire distance in under ten minutes.
Pons, of course, could not run nearly that fast.
Honestly, he had no confidence in finishing five kilometers within fifteen minutes.
He could only stay at the very back of the pack, running alongside the slowest few people.
Even so, after just three laps, Pons was already gasping for air.
His lungs felt like they were on fire, and his legs had grown heavy and sluggish.
Even the slowest runners here could meet the fifteen-minute standard.
Even if he tried to keep up with them, it would only get harder as time went on.
Back on Riman Island, Pons had sometimes run laps around the town, but never at such a frantic pace.
After about another half lap, the fastest runners began to lap him.
Meanwhile, Pons was gradually falling behind even the slowest group.
“Huff… huff…” Pons panted heavily as he ran.
Zephyr watched as Pons fell further behind.
His brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
The previous evening, Tsuru had spoken with him privately, asking him to go a little easy on the newcomer, Pons.
According to Tsuru, this young man had a peculiar Devil Fruit ability but was almost a blank slate in terms of physical conditioning.
He would likely struggle to keep up with the training, and she hoped Zephyr would not be too harsh on him.
In Zephyr’s view, however, Devil Fruit abilities were at best supplementary in battle.
Physical conditioning and Haki development were the fundamental pillars of becoming a true powerhouse.
Still, Zephyr believed in adapting to each individual’s needs.
If Pons truly could not keep up, he would not insist on the same strict standards…
after all, he would not want to explain to Tsuru if the young man collapsed on the training ground.
That said, Pons would certainly lose points in his estimation.
By the time Pons reached his seventh lap, his legs felt like they were filled with lead.
Even his head felt heavy.
He was not even sure how he had managed to make it this far.
Though only three laps remained, they felt impossibly distant.
He had no idea how much time had passed, but the gap between him and the slowest runners had grown to over half a lap.
People had begun finishing all ten laps and were sitting down to rest.
Watching them, Pons felt an overwhelming urge to just drop to the ground and collapse.
But he could not do that.
If he sat down, he would be looked down upon by Zephyr and the others…
and it would embarrass Drake, who had recommended him.
Pons gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going, though his pace inevitably slowed even further.
Just then, Doll ran up beside him and said: “Hang in there… huff… just keep going… you’ll make it.” Pons was surprised that Doll had come to his side…
but then he realized she had lapped him.
He wanted to say something to her, but he was too exhausted.
Continuing to run was already the limit of his ability; he had no breath left for words.
Doll extended her hand to him and said: “Hold my hand…
it’ll be a bit easier that way.” Pons hesitated, ‘Was it really acceptable to run while holding Doll’s hand?
Would Zephyr reprimand us for it?’ But at this point, he could not afford to worry about that.
He had barely any energy left.
Having someone guide him would help at least a little.
Pons reached out and took Doll’s hand, letting her pull him along.
Doll slowed her pace slightly so he could keep up.
Zephyr noticed this, but he said nothing and made no move to stop them.
By then, Shuzo…
who had already finished his ten laps…
walked over to Zephyr and said: “Sensei, Doll is helping Pons run…
that should be a violation, shouldn’t it?” “…Helping one another is a good trait among Marines.
Besides, Pons’s foundation is indeed weak… Let it be.” With Doll’s hand in his, Pons did feel slightly less burdened…
though it was still incredibly exhausting.
Still, since he was running alongside a woman, he did not want to hold her back and be looked down upon, which gave him an extra boost of determination.
They continued running together for two more laps.
Doll, still breathing hard, said: “I-I’ve finished my ten laps… huff… you’ll have to run the last one on your own… huff… you can do it.” Since Doll had lapped him earlier, she had completed her ten laps while Pons was only on his ninth.
Pons was still too tired to speak.
He gave Doll a slight nod and continued forward.
Judging by the time, there was no way he would finish within fifteen minutes…
so he just focused on completing that final lap.
Doll stepped aside to rest.
Zephyr walked over to her and said: “You’re quite kind-hearted.” Doll was startled and quickly said: “Zephyr-sensei, I, uh… I thought since Pons is new and has a weak foundation, I should help if I can.” “I’m not criticizing you,” Zephyr said calmly, then walked away.
Doll let out a long sigh of relief.
When she had helped Pons, she had indeed worried that Zephyr might reprimand her…
but she had chosen to help anyway.
After all, she had known since yesterday that Pons’s physical foundation was poor, and she feared he would not be able to handle the intense training on his first day.
Thankfully, it seemed Zephyr had no objection to her actions.
Without Doll guiding him, Pons’s pace slowed again…
but he dragged his heavy legs onward and finally completed the last lap.
Knowing he should not lie down immediately after finishing, Pons walked slowly around the field to cool down.
Zephyr approached him and said: “Seventeen minutes, fifty seconds.
You’re the only one who didn’t make it within fifteen minutes.” “S-sorry…” Doll had made it within fifteen minutes, meaning his final lap had taken about three minutes.
Doll had deliberately slowed down to help him; otherwise, her time could have been even better.
Still, Pons was satisfied with his own result.
Before this, his fastest five-kilometer time had never been under twenty minutes.
Now he had run it in under eighteen minutes…
a huge improvement, even if part of that was thanks to Doll’s help.
The cost, however, was the overwhelming fatigue now washing over him.
He felt as though those five kilometers might have shaved years off his life.
Of course, Zephyr could not be pleased with that time, but judging by his tone, he did not seem intent on punishing him.
Zephyr then called out to everyone: “Rest for five minutes, then we’ll start the next exercise!” Pons was dumbfounded, ‘Only five minutes?
Were they really trying to work me to death?’ Zephyr glanced at Pons and said: “You rest ten minutes… Actually, make it fifteen.” ‘So Zephyr was not completely unreasonable…’ Though fifteen minutes still felt painfully short to Pons.
And those who had finished in under ten minutes effectively had twelve or thirteen minutes of rest overall.
Of course, Pons was not about to argue for more time.
He walked around a bit more, then sat down to rest.
After five minutes, the rest of the group lined up for the next exercise.
This time, they practiced Marine boxing…
but everyone had to wear heavy wrist and ankle weights.
Pons did not know their exact weight, but judging by the way others moved after putting them on, they were clearly substantial.
Under Zephyr’s direction, everyone practiced punches, kicks, and other combat movements.
Ten minutes later, Pons’s rest time ended.
Zephyr gestured for him to rejoin the formation.
Pons had no choice but to push himself up and walk back into line.
Zephyr tossed him a set of training gear: “Put these on…
two wrist weights, two ankle weights, each weighing two kilograms.
This is already an accommodation…
everyone else is wearing four-kilogram weights.” Pons was speechless.
Eight kilograms of added weight might not be too bad for a short period, but it was clear this was not a short-term affair.
Still, he had to keep going.
Pons strapped on the wrist and ankle weights and trained alongside the others.
“Punch!
Kick!
Elbow strike!
Knee strike!” Zephyr called out a stream of commands, and the Marines repeated the motions over and over.
Pons followed along as best he could, but between the added weight and his lack of recovery, his movements were sloppy…
his punches did not extend fully, and his kicks were too low.
“Straighten your arm!
Raise your leg higher!” Zephyr walked over to Pons.
“You think a flimsy punch like that is going to do anything to an enemy?
And with your kicks that low, are you aiming for their kneecaps?” ‘To be fair, hitting kneecaps was not a bad idea…
joints were vulnerable spots.’ But despite his mental complaints, Pons tried to straighten his punches and raise his kicks higher.