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Germa 66!
To many, it was nothing more than a fictional "evil army." In the pages of economic newspapers and propaganda comics distributed by the World Government, Germa 66 served as the antagonist in heroic tales. These stories depicted naval heroes like "Sola," who walked on water and led their companions against repeated attempts by sinister organizations to corner them.
This so-called evil organization? Germa 66.
Through its repeated failures in these narratives, the Navy's image as a bastion of justice grew stronger. Such tales became tools for indoctrinating children, cementing Germa 66 in the public consciousness as a mythical entity—or perhaps something that should remain a myth.
But in reality, Germa 66 was very real. It was a formidable military force in the North Blue, a scientific combat unit unmatched in both technology and strategy. At its helm stood the royal family of the Germa Kingdom—the Vinsmoke Family.
However, this once-mighty assassin clan, which had ruled the North Blue with an iron fist three centuries ago, had fallen from grace under relentless suppression by the World Government. Their power waned significantly, leaving them shadows of their former selves.
It wasn't until Vinsmoke Judge's generation that the declining Germa Kingdom began to show signs of resurgence. Yet restoring its former glory seemed an insurmountable task. The World Government would never allow any single faction to dominate the vast North Blue. Though they didn't outright annihilate Germa, they ensured the kingdom lost all claims to territory.
The Warship Marked with "1"
On the central warship, bearing the prominent emblem of the number "1," preparations were underway.
"All troops prepare..."
"Estimated time to target location: thirty minutes!"
"..."
Rows of soldiers dressed in sleek black combat gear lined up in perfect formation. Each soldier carried weapons and ammunition, meticulously prepared for the upcoming battle. Logistics teams bustled about, distributing supplies and ensuring everything was ready for the assault.
Boom! Boom!
Underneath a spacious pavilion, a young man trained furiously, relentlessly striking a massive, jet-black metal cylinder. The pillar, two to three meters in diameter and three meters tall, groaned under his blows, shaking the ground with every punch.
Each impact left craters and dents on the already battered surface—marks of countless days of brutal training. What made this feat even more astonishing was that the cylinder wasn't ordinary steel but a special alloy crafted by Germa's scientific team. Its hardness and density far exceeded conventional materials.
"Ichiji-sama..."
Two twin maids, dressed in contrasting white and black maid outfits, watched nearby. Both had lustrous golden hair cascading down their backs, delicate features, and voluptuous figures. They appeared no older than sixteen, yet their beauty radiated maturity beyond their years.
Their gazes toward the young man were filled with admiration—and something deeper, bordering on obsession. Over the years, they had grown accustomed to his grueling routines. After all, he possessed a body unlike any human's. No matter how strenuous the workout, he recovered fully with just a night's rest.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"6332... 6333... 6334..."
Vinsmoke Ichiji, shirtless and glistening with sweat, continued pounding the metal cylinder. His chiseled muscles rippled like coiled dragons across his frame, exuding raw explosive power. With gritted teeth, he counted each strike aloud, his voice trembling with determination.
"This level... is still not enough!"
His piercing gaze locked onto the battered cylinder. Sweat poured down his face, mingling with strands of crimson-red hair dampened by exertion. One eye remained partially obscured by the wet locks, adding to his fierce, almost demonic appearance.
Droplets of sweat flew through the air as his fists and legs moved in a blur of violence. Despite the brutality of his strikes, his knuckles showed only slight swelling—no blood, no broken skin.
"Ichiji-sama, we'll reach Ferland Kingdom in ten minutes. Please prepare yourself."
"6398... 6399..."
"6400!!!"
"Huff... Is it time already?"
Catching his breath, Ichiji ignored the rivulets of sweat streaming down his chest. His breathing was labored but controlled. Waving dismissively at the twins, he nodded curtly. "You may leave."
"Yes, Ichiji-sama."
"Ichiji-sama, you've worked hard..."
The twins approached, ready to tend to him. The one in the black maid uniform was Wyness, the elder sister; the other, clad in white, was Delia, her younger counterpart.
They gently wiped away the sweat dripping from his brow. Accepting a glass of water offered by one of them, Ichiji gulped it down greedily.
"Ten minutes, you said?"
"Yes, Ichiji-sama."
Ichiji shrugged nonchalantly and turned toward the fortress behind him. Having lived in this world for over a decade, he had long since shed what little humanity he once possessed. Countless battles and massacres had hardened him, erasing any trace of compassion or restraint.
He pushed himself to the brink of madness, knowing full well that without absolute power, even controlling his own destiny was impossible. But when rare moments of respite came, he indulged without hesitation. There was no point in denying himself pleasure when life itself was fleeting.