Even without Whitebeard using Haki or his Devil Fruit abilities, his raw physical strength alone was enough to make Allen cry for his mother.
The entire beach echoed with the sound of heavy fists colliding with flesh, accompanied by a series of desperate screams.
The chaotic scene looked exactly like Tom getting his tail repeatedly pinched by Jerry in the cartoons.
As the setting sun gradually dyed the entire beach a deep crimson, Whitebeard finally stopped, looking down at the bruised and swollen teenager with a satisfied expression.
“Gurararara!
That’s enough for today, kid.” Allen felt as if he had just heard the voice of heaven itself.
He collapsed onto the sand, groaning, “Really?
Old Six…
are we finally done for the day?” “Old Six?” Whitebeard looked deeply puzzled, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry about it,” Allen mumbled through his swollen lips.
“It’s a genuine compliment.
It’s based on your ranking as the sixth strongest person in the entire world.” With the brutal day of training officially over, Whitebeard had successfully been upgraded from “Brother Newgate” to “Old Six” in Allen’s vocabulary.
“Go on back.
We’ll continue the exact same routine tomorrow.” Whitebeard couldn’t figure out the meaning behind the nickname and decided to stop thinking about it.
Guessing it probably wasn’t a compliment, he silently resolved to hit the boy even harder tomorrow before turning to walk away.
“Alright.
Sorry to trouble you today, Brother Newgate,” Allen called out, dragging himself up.
He obviously knew what was what.
For someone of Whitebeard’s legendary status to take time out of his day for one-on-one training was definitely going above and beyond.
Allen decided he would find a way to pay him back in kind in the future, slowly following in Whitebeard’s footsteps.
The setting sun stretched the shadows of the two men—one a towering giant, the other a regular teenager—as Allen hobbled behind, occasionally rubbing his aching arms and bruised buttocks.
“Yo!
Captain Allen, what’s with that ridiculous look?
Hahahaha!” “Did you get beaten to a pulp for trying to steal dessert from Charlotte Linlin?” “Or maybe you tried to swipe a cigar from Shiki?
Hahahaha!” The moment Allen returned to the base, the members of the Third Division saw him walking in with a face swollen like a pig’s head and immediately began to tease him with loud laughter.
Covered in fresh bruises, the rowdy crew failed to notice Allen’s expression growing darker by the second, or the throbbing pop-vein mark gradually appearing on his forehead.
His patience finally snapped.
In an instant, Allen moved, using his speed to appear right in front of the laughing men.
Bang!
Bang!
Slap!
Thud!
A symphony of heavy blows mixed with Tom-and-Jerry-style screams echoed through the barracks one after another.
Before long, Allen looked down at the group groaning on the floor, each of them sporting a heavily swollen face that perfectly matched his own.
He patted the dust off his hands with immense satisfaction.
“A proper division should always look neat and uniform.” Hearing this, the beaten pirates looked up at Allen with deeply resentful eyes.
Sensing their unified gaze, Allen glared back fiercely, his hand resting on his waist.
“Hmm?
Do any of you have an opinion on my leadership?” “The Captain is wise!” “The Captain is absolutely mighty!” Pirates, it turned out, were sometimes far more perceptive and quick to adapt than the corporate workers in his previous life.
Shortly after dinner, Allen began his nightly swordsmanship training using a heavily modified dumbbell.
The massive piece of iron was actually larger than Allen himself.
This training regimen was entirely inspired by Zoro from the original series.
After all, since his cutting technique had only recently broken through, making another massive leap in skill in the short term was impossible.
He figured that focusing entirely on maximizing his arm and wrist strength would be far more effective.
Just as he was methodically swinging the massive iron dumbbell, heavy footsteps approached from behind.
“You’re really diligent, Allen.” “Oh, First Division Captain Luobuma,” Allen said, pausing his swing.
“Is something the matter?” The person who had arrived was the user of the Logia Sand-Sand Fruit, First Division Captain Luobuma.
“I heard you were practicing Armament Haki with Boss Whitebeard today.
How did it go?” Luobuma asked, taking a casual sip from his flask.
“I still have absolutely no clue,” Allen answered helplessly, lowering the dumbbell.
“I couldn’t manifest the Haki at all.
I literally just spent the entire afternoon getting beaten into the dirt.” Luobuma burst into loud laughter, reaching out to pat Allen’s shoulder.
“Hahahaha!
It doesn’t matter, Allen.
Just keep practicing, and you’ll definitely awaken it one day.
Do you want to know how long it took me to finally unlock Armament Haki back then?” “How long?” Allen asked, his interest instantly piqued.
“A whole month,” Luobuma said, his laughter fading as a pained, constipated expression took over his face.
“And because I’m a Logia user, Boss Whitebeard deliberately coated his entire fists in advanced Haki every time he trained me to make sure he hit my real body.
I was completely broken, both physically and mentally, by the end of that month.” “Haha, then he really is a damned monster…
pfft, I mean, he’s incredibly thoughtful and thorough,” Allen blurted out his true thoughts before quickly correcting himself.
“Haha, I think so too,” Luobuma chuckled, his expression softening into a look of deep reminiscence.
“Your talent and conviction are both stronger than mine were, so you’ll definitely succeed.
It’s a good thing to have something you genuinely want to protect…” Watching the sudden shift in the older pirate’s demeanor, Allen made a few educated guesses.
“Old First Division Captain Luobuma, why did you decide to become a pirate in the first place?” “Old First Division Captain?
What kind of weird, long nickname is that?
Whatever, suit yourself,” Luobuma muttered, taking another drink.
“A pirate?
If people actually had a real choice, who would willingly choose to become the scum of the sea?
It’s all because of those bastards living high above us…
those absolute pigs.” Luobuma’s expression gradually grew ferocious, his eyes flashing with deep-seated hatred as he recalled his past.
Allen fell silent.
Having read the original series, he knew exactly who Luobuma was referring to—the Celestial Dragons.
Luobuma completely ignored Allen’s silence.
It seemed as though he had been suppressing these memories for years, and now that the dam had broken, he couldn’t stop talking.
“There used to be a kingdom called Trevor in the first half of the Grand Line.
Of course, it doesn’t exist anymore.
I was the captain of the royal guard there.
The King himself saved my life when I was younger.
That entire island was famous for cultivating beautiful, rare flowers, so merchants called it the City of Flowers.
Trevor wasn’t a wealthy nation, but we were completely self-sufficient.
The King was a deeply kind man, and the kingdom’s taxes were incredibly low, which meant the crime rate was almost nonexistent.” Luobuma stared blankly into the distance.
“As the captain of the guard, I practically had nothing to do.
Just when I thought I would live out a peaceful, quiet life forever…
those pigs demanded that Trevor officially become a member nation of the World Government.
They demanded a tribute of five billion Berries every single year.” He let out a harsh, bitter laugh.
“You have to understand, Trevor’s entire annual fiscal revenue was less than five hundred million Berries.
They were explicitly forcing the King to brutally exploit his own people.
The King naturally refused to comply, so he rejected their demands.
Who could have guessed that what awaited us next wasn’t a negotiation?
It was a fleet of Marine warships, arriving on the fabricated grounds that our King had supposedly kidnapped a Celestial Dragon.
Heh…
how utterly ridiculous.” Luobuma stopped talking, omitting the brutal details of what happened next, but Allen already knew the tragic fate of that country.
Not knowing how to properly comfort the grieving man, Allen simply reached out and firmly patted his shoulder.
“We have to look forward, Old First Division Captain Luobuma.” “Look forward?
I know the limits of my own abilities,” Luobuma said quietly, taking a final swig from his flask.
“I won’t ever be strong enough to avenge my country in this lifetime.
But as long as I’m a pirate, I will definitely make them pay the price.
I’ll make them feel the exact same pain.” He let out a long, heavy breath, as if pouring his heart out had finally lifted a massive weight off his chest.
“Phew…
I’m heading out, Allen.
Your body hasn’t fully developed yet, so take it easy with that weight training.
Don’t push yourself to the point of injury.” Watching Luobuma’s departing back, Allen felt a sudden wave of understanding regarding how the First Division Captain would eventually meet his end in the future.
Knowing the timeline was one thing, but Allen simply didn’t possess the strength to change the world’s structure right now.
The burning desire for true power grew even stronger in his heart.
He refused to end up like Luobuma in the future—forced to stand by helplessly, watching the things and people he cared about turn to ash right before his eyes.
Early the next morning, Allen stretched his body and was pleasantly surprised to find that his injuries from yesterday had already completely recovered, thanks to the absurd physics of this world.
After completing his grueling daily physical training, he sought out Whitebeard and walked back down to the same beach from the previous day.
“Gurararara!
I honestly thought you wouldn’t want to continue today,” Whitebeard said with a wide smile, balancing his weapon on his shoulder.
“How about it?
Did you actually manage to gain anything from yesterday’s beating?” Allen smiled confidently, tightening his grip on his practice sword.
“I still have no clue about Haki, but ‘if you’re bad, practice more’ is an eternal truth.”