The first week as a member of the Red-Haired Pirates had been a transformative experience for Regulus. The constant exposure to such high-caliber fighters, the invaluable guidance from Shanks and the other officers, and the sheer energy of the crew had pushed him further than he could have imagined during his solitary training. He had begun to understand the subtle nuances of Haki, the importance of fluid transitions in his Devil Fruit transformations, and the deadly precision that could be achieved with a blade honed by years of experience. He felt a sense of progress, a tangible increase in his overall power and skill.
Curious about the numerical representation of his growth, Regulus accessed his Character Template System as the week drew to a close. The familiar blue screen shimmered into existence, displaying his updated statistics. His eyes scanned the information, a sense of satisfaction mixed with an ever-present hunger for more.
[Regulus M. Figarland]
[Age: 13]
[Character Template: Monkey D. Garp (62% Integration)]
[Current Power Level: Low First Commander Level]
[Haki: Advanced Armament, Advanced Observation, Basic Conqueror's]
[Devil Fruit: Inu Inu no Mi, Model: Fenrir (Partial Mastery)]
[Weapon: Fang of Fenrir (Proficient)]
A low First Commander Level. It was a significant leap from where he had been just a week ago. The 62% integration with the Garp Template was also a testament to the intensity of his training and the constant exertion of his Devil Fruit powers. He felt a surge of pride, but it was quickly tempered by the knowledge that the true вершина of power in this world was still far beyond his reach.
His training throughout the week had been relentless. He continued his daily sparring sessions with Shanks, each encounter offering new insights and challenges. He focused on incorporating Shanks's advice, trying to visualize his Armament Haki as a more encompassing shield, not just a surface layer. He practiced transitioning between his human and hybrid forms with increasing speed and fluidity, learning to tap into specific aspects of the Fenrir's power without fully transforming.
He also spent time training with the other crew members. Lucky Roux, despite his jovial nature, possessed surprising speed and power. He taught Regulus how to incorporate bursts of focused energy into his movements, adding an extra layer of impact to his strikes. Yasopp, with his uncanny accuracy, set up intricate target drills, forcing Regulus to rely on his Observation Haki to anticipate the trajectory of multiple projectiles simultaneously. Benn Beckman, with his sharp intellect, would often observe Regulus's sparring sessions, offering tactical advice and pointing out potential weaknesses in his approach. He emphasized the importance of remaining calm and analytical even in the heat of battle.
One afternoon, as Regulus was practicing his Frostfire control on a secluded part of the deck, Shanks approached him, his expression thoughtful. "You've made incredible progress this week, Regulus," he said, leaning against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Your raw power is undeniable, and your control is improving rapidly."
Regulus paused, the white-blue flames flickering around his hands. "But I still have a long way to go, Captain," he replied, his voice tinged with a hint of frustration. "I can feel it. There's a ceiling to what I can achieve through just training."
Shanks nodded slowly, his eyes meeting Regulus's. "You're right, kid. Training is essential, it lays the foundation. But true growth, the kind that forges legends, comes from real battles. From facing opponents who are fighting with their lives on the line, opponents who will push you beyond your limits in ways that no training exercise ever could."
He gestured towards the endless ocean stretching before them. "Out there, in the Grand Line, you'll find those kinds of challenges. You'll face enemies with unique Devil Fruit powers, masters of Haki, and individuals driven by their own powerful ambitions. It's in those clashes, in those moments of true desperation, that your real potential will be unlocked."
Regulus listened intently, absorbing Shanks's words. He had always known that real combat would be different from training, but hearing it from someone as experienced as Shanks gave it a new weight. He thought back to his fight against the wild boar on the deserted island, the sheer intensity of that life-or-death struggle. It had pushed him in ways that his solitary training hadn't.
"So, what's next, Captain?" Regulus asked, a sense of anticipation building within him.
Shanks grinned, clapping Regulus on the shoulder. "Next, we set sail for adventure, kid! There's a whole world out there waiting to be explored, and plenty of strong opponents eager to test their mettle against the Red-Haired Pirates." He turned towards the crew, raising his voice. "Alright, you landlubbers! Time to weigh anchor! We've lingered on this island long enough. The Grand Line awaits!"
A cheer erupted from the crew as they sprang into action, hoisting the sails and preparing the ship for departure. The familiar creaking of the timbers filled the air as the Red Force turned its bow towards the open sea, leaving the island that had been Regulus's home for so long receding in the distance.
Regulus stood at the bow of the ship, the wind whipping through his hair, his gaze fixed on the horizon. He felt a mix of excitement and a hint of nervousness. The past week had been an incredible learning experience, but he knew that the true test of his abilities was yet to come. He was no longer just a survivor on a deserted island; he was a member of the Red-Haired Pirates, sailing towards the heart of the pirate world. The real battles were on the horizon, and Regulus, with his burning ambition and the power of the Fenrir coursing through his veins, was ready to face them head-on. The Grand Line, with all its dangers and wonders, beckoned, and his journey towards becoming a legend was truly about to begin.