Zefa gave a final glance at the group before leaving the training ground. "You have half an hour to warm up. Once that's done, we'll start today's workout," he said, walking off and leaving Satoru alone with thirty students—each radiating unkind intentions toward him.
Satoru quickly realized what Zefa had done. *Throwing me to the wolves, huh?* he thought wryly. The murmurs began almost immediately.
"Hey, kid, what's your connection with Instructor Zefa?" one of the cadets sneered, his tone laced with condescension.
Satoru met his gaze calmly. "Simple. Teacher and student."
The cadet frowned. "Is it true what Instructor Zefa said? That you're stronger than all of us combined?"
"Of course," Satoru replied with a confident smirk. "Even if you all come at me together, you won't stand a chance."
The air grew tense, the audacity of Satoru's statement igniting the room like wildfire.
"No way this brat is for real," someone muttered.
"He's just full of himself. I'm taking him down!" Another cadet lunged at Satoru, fist raised.
But in Satoru's Six Eyes, the attack was laughably slow. He sidestepped effortlessly and countered with a swift punch to the attacker's abdomen. The cadet was sent flying backward, landing in a heap several feet away.
The others stared in shock. This wasn't an average cadet—the one who attacked was considered middle-tier among them. And yet, he'd been taken down in a single strike.
"This guy... he's no joke," one murmured, a trace of fear creeping into their voice.
But the realization only made the remaining cadets more determined.
"Everyone, together!" shouted one of them.
The group of twenty-nine surrounded Satoru, their synchronization honed from prior team exercises. But Satoru was unimpressed.
*They think numbers can save them?* He smirked, weaving a hand sign. Instantly, an invisible force gripped the cadets, pulling them together like iron filings to a magnet. One after another, they collided in a heap, groaning in confusion.
"He's a Devil Fruit user!" someone shouted in alarm.
Satoru barely paid attention to the comment. He was more intrigued by the lone figure who remained unscathed—a blonde, blue-eyed cadet who had avoided the pull entirely.
In a blink, the cadet appeared before him, fist poised to strike. His speed was astounding, and his Devil Fruit power was evident—this was no ordinary opponent.
*Interesting,* Satoru thought, analyzing the cadet's movements with his Six Eyes. Despite the incredible speed, everything was clear to him. *Fast, but not fast enough.*
The blonde cadet, Chris, grinned as his fist closed in on Satoru's face. But just as he was about to land the hit, his momentum came to an abrupt halt. His arm trembled, frozen inches from Satoru's body.
"What's happening?" another cadet asked, bewildered by the scene.
"Chris isn't stopping—he's being stopped," Herac, a tall and muscular cadet, observed grimly. "Look at him—he's straining every muscle, but he can't move closer."
"Not bad," Satoru said, his tone mocking as he stared at Chris. "You almost touched me. But that's all there is to it."
Chris's eyes widened in terror as Satoru slowly raised his own fist. He tried to escape, but it was futile; an unseen force pinned him in place.
"I don't mind a challenge," Satoru continued, "but letting someone like you stay on the field would just slow things down."
With that, Satoru delivered a devastating punch to Chris's torso. The force sent him hurtling backward, skidding across the ground before collapsing in a limp heap. The once-confident cadet was unconscious.
The remaining students stood frozen, staring at Satoru in disbelief.
*The power of this punch... it's insane,* Herac thought, sweat dripping down his brow. None of them dared to take another step.
Satoru dusted off his hands, surveying the crowd with an air of boredom. "Anyone else?" he asked, his voice cool and unbothered.
The cadets exchanged nervous glances, their earlier hostility replaced by a growing respect—and fear—for the new arrival.