It didn't take long for Satoru to sense an overwhelming presence drawing near. Unlike Garp's restrained aura, this individual exuded his strength unapologetically, a force that seemed to permeate the air itself. The heavy atmosphere alone was enough to make ordinary men falter.
Moments later, the man entered the room—*Black-Arm Zefa(Kokuwan no Zefa his japanese name now you get it right)*, one of the last naval admirals and a legend in his own right. His reputation preceded him, known as the *"Non-Killing Admiral"* due to his staunch refusal to kill, a rarity among warriors of his caliber. His mastery of Armament Haki was said to be unparalleled, elevated to almost mythical levels, including the advanced technique of *Ryuo*.
"Zefa, you're here."
A rare smile crept across Sengoku's face, the joy of seeing his old comrade evident. Unlike Garp's carefree and chaotic presence, Zefa's arrival carried a sense of order and discipline that Sengoku welcomed. As Chief Instructor of the Navy, Zefa's duties often kept him away from casual visits, and it had been some time since they'd last met.
"Hmm, so this is the brat you've been hyping up, the one who's supposed to surpass those three monsters?" Zefa cut straight to the point, his piercing gaze landing on Satoru. To the veterans like Zefa and Sengoku, the current three admirals—Aokiji, Kizaru, and Akainu—were often referred to as *"monsters"* for their unprecedented power and destructive potential.
"That's right," Sengoku confirmed, stepping closer. "This is the child Garp rescued from pirates a few years ago. He possesses abilities far beyond the norm—abilities that even surpass the infamous Lunarian race."
"Oh?" Zefa's interest visibly piqued at the mention of the Lunarians, an extinct race once worshipped as gods due to their innate special abilities. "You're saying his powers are more terrifying than theirs?"
Sengoku nodded. "Yes. His abilities don't merely grant him resilience or strength—they make him untouchable by conventional means."
Zefa's stern gaze scrutinized Satoru, his curiosity growing. For years, he had been growing increasingly disillusioned with the declining quality of recruits at the Naval Academy. If this boy could truly live up to Sengoku's claims, he might just reignite Zefa's passion for training new blood.
"Sengoku," Zefa said with a low growl, "why call me here? You don't mean to toss him into the Academy, do you?"
"No," Sengoku replied firmly. "The Academy is too limited for him. I want you to take him under your wing personally. Train him as your apprentice and pass on everything you know."
Zefa's eyes widened momentarily. *An apprentice?* That was no light request. Over his long career, Zefa had trained countless students, including the current admirals, but he had never taken on a personal apprentice.
"With his current strength, none of the Academy's students could stand a chance against him," Sengoku added.
Hearing this, Zefa's gaze shifted back to Satoru. The boy couldn't have been more than ten years old, yet Sengoku claimed he could outperform students older, stronger, and more experienced. Either Sengoku was exaggerating, or this child was an anomaly unlike anything the Navy had seen.
"Fine," Zefa said after a pause. "I'll take him to the training grounds and see for myself. Whether or not I accept him as an apprentice will depend on what he shows me."
Sengoku's lips curled into a satisfied smile. "That's all I ask."
Zefa motioned for Satoru to follow him, and the two left the office. Satoru didn't speak, but his sharp gaze observed every movement Zefa made. As they walked, Satoru's mind wandered briefly to his memories of Gojo Satoru's techniques. Physical combat had never been Gojo's strong suit; his cursed energy techniques were overwhelmingly dominant, rendering hand-to-hand combat almost irrelevant. Yet Satoru was curious to see how his growing skills stacked up against someone like Zefa—a true titan of the Navy.
---
The training grounds were vast, lined with steel dummies, targets, and a wide-open arena that had clearly seen its share of intense battles.
Zefa turned to Satoru. "Sengoku claims you're stronger than all the current students at the Academy. What do you think about that?"
Satoru didn't hesitate. "I think Marshal Sengoku is absolutely right."
Zefa's eyes twitched. The boy's confidence bordered on arrogance, and he couldn't help but smirk. "Big words for someone so young. Let's see if you can back them up, or if you're just a cocky brat."
With a flourish, Zefa cast off his coat, revealing his chiseled, muscular physique beneath. Despite his age, his body was a testament to years of relentless training.
"Don't hold back, General Zefa," Satoru said, his pale blue eyes glinting with anticipation. "Otherwise, you might get hurt."
Zefa's smirk twisted into a predatory grin. "Bold. I like that. Let's hope you're still talking big after I wipe the floor with you."
The air between them grew heavy as Zefa's Haki flared, a suffocating pressure that would have immobilized lesser men. Yet Satoru remained unflinching, his serene expression unchanged.
The battle was about to begin, and both warriors knew this was more than just a test—it was a clash between two forces destined to leave their mark on history.