One Piece: Son-in-Law King, That's My Destiny!

Marine Base, 153rd Branch

At the recruitment office.

"Name?"

"Loya."

"Age?"

"17."

"Why do you want to join the Marines?"

"To make a name for myself!"

The officer paused, his pen hovering over the paper. He glanced up at the young man before him, nodding almost imperceptibly.

A common reason.

But few were bold enough to say it outright.

He remembered this boy. About three months ago, a merchant ship carrying Loya's family had been raided by pirates. Loya was the sole survivor and had been working odd jobs at the town's tavern since then.

His background seemed fine.

The recruitment standards for the branch weren't strict—no criminals, physically fit, and you were in. With their heavy losses, they desperately needed fresh recruits.

"Approved!"

"Thank you, sir!"

"Sergeant Morgan, show Recruit Loya around the base."

"Yes, sir!"

Morgan's booming response made Loya finally notice the burly man standing nearby.

Morgan?

Could it be "Axe-Hand" Morgan?

At nearly three meters tall, with a stern, no-nonsense face, his presence alone was intimidating.

Loya figured his small frame wouldn't last a single punch from Morgan. Without extraordinary strength, sheer size was an undeniable advantage.

"Damn—so this is the 'Axe-Hand' pressure!"

Morgan approached Loya, attempting to smile, but it ended up more terrifying than comforting.

"Follow me, recruit."

"Yes, Sergeant Morgan!"

Straightening his posture, Loya put on his best soldierly demeanor.

If he was here to be a Marine, he'd better act the part.

Morgan hadn't yet become the tyrannical despot he'd later be known as, nor did he have that kind of power.

After collecting his gear, Loya carried his bedding and supplies as Morgan guided him around the base.

Two cylindrical defense towers, four tall dormitories and logistics buildings, and a few open training grounds made up the 153rd Branch.

Including logistics staff, the branch housed just over 200 people, with barely 100 formal Marines—most of whom had been decimated.

It was a bleak scene.

But that was reality.

The Marine's main forces were concentrated in the Grand Line, especially at Marine Headquarters, to protect Mariejois. The Marines stationed across the Four Seas were scattered and far weaker than their counterparts in the Grand Line.

Even pirates with bounties under 20 million beli posed a significant challenge.

Morgan led Loya through dorms, mess halls, and recreation areas before stopping at the new recruit training ground.

Dozens of recruits were undergoing physical training, though their morale was low, and their shouts lacked energy.

The sting of recent losses still lingered.

Morgan clenched his fists, veins bulging on his arms. His frustration was evident—both at the pirates and his own inadequacies.

After a long pause, he relaxed his fists.

"Starting tomorrow morning, you'll undergo basic training here. Afternoons will be spent on chores—someone will guide you."

Morgan laid out the rules. New recruits began as the lowest-ranked workers, responsible for cleaning and other logistical tasks, with only basic training allowed. Their uniforms even had the kanji for "Miscellaneous" printed on the back.

Fighting pirates? Not yet.

Once recruits passed their basic training, they'd be promoted to Third-Class Marines, freeing them from chores but exposing them to actual combat.

Loya listened attentively.

The training regimen included 200 push-ups, 200 sit-ups, climbing ropes ten times, and running 20 laps around the field.

"So, just a tenth of the training at Marine Headquarters," Loya noted internally.

He had some idea of Headquarters' training from his previous life. Back then, he'd joked online about Koby's rapid improvement, unaware he'd end up living in this world himself.

"Sorry for the trash talk, universe," he thought.

"Sergeant Morgan!"

Loya pointed to the training recruits and facilities, his eyes shining. "Can I start training now?"

"Now?"

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

New recruits often felt enthusiastic, but few asked to jump straight into training.

Interesting.

Most recruits required three to six months of training before they could pass basic exercises.

"You can, but let me warn you: once you start, there's no quitting halfway. Understood?"

"Understood!"

Taking a deep breath, Loya joined the recruits on the track, starting his 20 laps.

The track was 500 meters per lap—20 laps meant 10 kilometers. Even in this world of enhanced physiques, completing it wasn't easy.

"Hey, a newbie?"

The recruits noticed him. Though technically new themselves, they had two or three months' seniority and considered themselves veterans.

"Pick up the pace, guys!"

"Got it!"

The group sped up, leaving Loya struggling to keep up.

By the fifth lap, Loya was drenched in sweat. By the fifteenth, he was alone on the track, his steps heavy.

Collapsing was inevitable.

But as the "veterans" watched, laughing, Loya struggled to his feet.

And kept running.

That night, while others slept, Loya activated his mysterious power, "The World."

In this separate dimension, time stopped, and he could replicate training environments he'd experienced.

With unlimited time inside, Loya could train 200 times harder than anyone else.

"I'll work harder than anyone!"

"If Koby can do it, so can I!"

With steely determination, Loya began running again, pushing himself toward the dream of becoming an Admiral.