“Teacher, I told you my answer a long time ago.”

The air seemed to freeze at that moment.

Zephyr’s memory was pulled back three years, his gaze fixed on Gern, trying to find the shadow of the boy from back then in his eyes.

“So, this is your answer?” Zephyr’s voice was low, “Slaughter?”

“No.” Gern shook his head, “I’m still searching.”

After speaking, Gern stepped forward, brushing past Zephyr, and stood under the Moonlight, his back straight.

“Moreover, Teacher. When pirates kill civilians, don’t civilians beg for mercy?” Gern’s voice was very soft, yet every word was like a hammer.

“Every pirate you let go might take the lives of ten, or even a hundred innocent people in the future.”

Zephyr was silent.

“I don’t believe in repentance, nor do I believe in reform.” Gern looked up at the night sky, “I only believe… that dead villains will never do evil again.”

These words were like a sharp dagger, piercing into Zephyr’s long-held “Justice of Non-Killing.”

“You’ve changed, Gern.” After a long while, Zephyr finally spoke, his voice carrying an imperceptible weariness.

“The old you had passion in your eyes, and confusion, but at least… there was still warmth.”

Gern didn’t refute, he just smiled: “People always change, Teacher.”

The night wind grew colder, and their shadows stretched on the ground, but they could never intertwine.

“Sengoku has already arranged for you to carry out missions independently.” Zephyr said, his tone returning to its usual steadiness, and he handed the mission intelligence file to Gern.

“That’s ‘Island Splitter’ Doge, a pirate with a bounty of 360 million.”

“I understand.” Gern nodded.

“I won’t interfere with this mission.” Zephyr turned, his cloak rustling in the wind, “But Gern, remember…”

He stopped, looking back at his most prized disciple, his eyes complex.

“Slaughter might solve temporary problems, but it can never bring true Justice.

So… tell me! That’s not your Justice, is it?! Gern.”

“I’m still searching…” Gern hadn't finished speaking when Zephyr tossed him a bottle of dark green liquid.

“Zephyr Teacher…” Looking at the wine in his hand, Gern frowned.

“Don’t lose yourself on the path to finding Justice, and end up on the wrong road!

If your Justice isn’t ‘it’ and you go astray… I will personally knock sense into you!”

Gern watched Zephyr’s departing figure until the purple silhouette completely merged into the night.

“Heh, you yourself like to say it.

Isn’t it cool for a man to carry out his beliefs to the end in his life? Words like that…”

Gern muttered to himself, opened the wine Zephyr gave him, and began to drink. His fingers unconsciously traced the black blade eight desolations at his waist, and the scabbard vibrated slightly, as if responding to his thoughts.

“Although it’s not my Justice, at least it can protect the people I want to protect.”

Under the Moonlight, a hint of determination flashed in Gern’s eyes.

As for his “Justice”… perhaps, the true “answer” lies at the end of this path.

Three days later, Marineford Naval Port.

The morning mist had not yet completely dispersed, and the rising sun coated the port with a faint golden glow.

The sea breeze carried a salty scent across the dock, rustling the masts of the moored warships, making faint creaking sounds.

Gern stood on the deck of the warship, wearing the Marine’s standard white Justice cloak.

Beneath it was a pure black form-fitting suit, with dark red patterns embroidered on the collar and cuffs, completely different from the ordinary Marine’s blue and white uniform.

His cloak flapped in the wind, revealing the black blade eight desolations wrapped in layers of bandages at his waist (his height had increased, so he no longer needed to carry it on his back).

In two years, his height had approached two meters, with broad shoulders and long legs, and his muscle lines appeared lean and full of explosive power under the combat suit.

His short black hair was particularly striking in the morning light, his face sharply contoured, his jawline firm, and a faint smile always lingered at the corner of his mouth.

The Marine soldiers on deck secretly observed Gern, their whispers rising and falling.

“Is he Lieutenant Gern, who is as famous as those three monsters? He looks younger than the rumors say…”

“Shh! Keep your voice down! I heard he never leaves anyone alive on missions, even beheading surrendering pirates with a single strike!”

“But why is his sword wrapped in bandages? Is it some kind of seal?”

Gern was deaf to these discussions, only lowering his head to gaze at the mission briefing in his hand.

‘Island Splitter’ Doge, with a bounty of 360 million, from the South Sea, a Paramecia-type Retsu Retsu Fruit user.

When touching non-living objects (such as weapons, buildings, ground), he can instantly split them into multiple fragments or smaller units.

“Can only control the splitting of non-living things… Is it a lower-level version of the Chop-Chop Fruit?

Heh, interesting…” Gern muttered to himself, his fingertips unconsciously caressing the hilt of his sword.

“Lieutenant Gern!” At that moment, a messenger hurried over, saluting.

“The Science Unit just delivered a batch of new weapons and equipment, saying Admiral Sengoku specifically prepared them for you.”

Gern didn’t even look up: “Throw them in the warehouse.”

“But, but…” The messenger hesitated.

“Problem?” Gern looked up.

The messenger instantly froze, like prey stared down by a beast, cold sweat trickling down his forehead.

“No, no! I’ll go arrange it right away!”

Only after the messenger fled as if escaping did Gern turn his gaze to the distant fortress in the port.

At the highest window, a purple figure was faintly visible—Zephyr stood there, his sunglasses reflecting the morning light, his expression unreadable.

Gern’s lips curved slightly, and he raised his hand in a standard military salute, his movements crisp and clean.

“Idiot.” Zephyr sighed.

The warship slowly left the port, Gern standing at the bow, the black blade eight desolations trembling slightly in the morning light.

“Island Splitter Doge…” Gern murmured the name, and at the same time, a sense of liberated excitement flashed in his eyes.

“Finally, I don’t have to worry about anything and can carry out missions freely.”

Before his words fell, he sharply turned, his cloak cutting a sharp arc in the air.

“Anchor aweigh! Target New World G-2 Base sea area!!”

In the distance, Zephyr watched the warship gradually disappear on the horizon, his fists unconsciously clenched.

“Gern, don’t disappoint me…”