Zephyr's voice carried a trace of sternness, but his eyes held encouragement.
Ain quickly smoothed her short, wind-ruffled hair, her eyes gleaming with resolve.
Binz quietly adjusted his position, making sure the Marine flag behind him was fully framed.
Other Marines helped each other straighten their uniforms. Some even secretly wiped their faces, afraid the dust would ruin the shot.
Ron lifted his phone, the lens catching the sunlight.
"Three, two, one..." His finger hovered over the record button.
"Neo Marines, established!"
"Justice endures!"
The thunderous roar startled the seagulls perched on the cannon platform.
Zephyr stood at the front, each word loud and clear.
"From today on, the Neo Marines will uphold true justice!"
He slammed his fist into his chest with a solid thump.
"Justice that will not be delayed!"
The camera panned across each determined face before finally capturing everyone's confident smiles.
Ron didn't appear in the video at all—the reason was obvious.
"Perfect!" Ron reviewed the footage, satisfied, and tapped the screen to edit.
Zephyr leaned in for a look and raised an eyebrow.
"Ron, you're pretty good at filming."
In the video, the sea breeze stirred their collars, and the sunlight cast golden highlights around them.
Even the most ordinary Marine looked like a hero under Ron's camera work.
Ron accepted the phone from Zephyr, his finger hovering over the send button.
After checking it once more and confirming everything was in place, he tapped send.
This time, Ron didn't use any backend privileges to boost visibility.
He wanted to see how far it could go with real momentum.
As night fell, everyone gathered around a bonfire.
From time to time, someone would sneak a glance at their phone.
Ron, on the other hand, calmly roasted fish, fat sizzling as it dripped into the flames.
"Don't rush," he said, flipping the golden-brown fish, its aroma wafting through the air.
"The real fire..."
Before he could finish, Zephyr's phone suddenly began vibrating violently. A torrent of notifications rang out nonstop.
>"Admiral Zephyr?! It's really Admiral Zephyr! Even you couldn't take it anymore, old man!"
>"The Marine corruption is worse than pirates! Those Seven Warlords are wolves in sheep's clothing!"
>"Justice that will not be delayed... This is the justice I believe in!"
>"I want to join the Neo Marines! Admiral Zephyr, let me in!"
>"Me too!"
---
"This..."
Zephyr's eyes widened as he looked at the surging view count on the screen.
Comment after comment scrolled by so fast he could barely read them.
Ron took a bite of fish, eyes narrowing in satisfaction.
"See? The spark of justice doesn't need artificial fuel."
The bonfire's glow flickered across everyone's stunned, emotional, and determined faces.
…
Night deepened. Stars scattered across the sky.
Inside Vice Admiral Onigumo's dorm room, a dull day of training had left him bored.
Nothing beat mindlessly scrolling on his phone.
Sprawled on his large bed, legs crossed, the flashing phone screen lit up his amused expression.
His fingers tapped rhythmically on his knee, in sync with the dancing girl on-screen.
When the video ended, he expertly drew a heart, then typed "You're so cool!" in the comments.
He hit "follow" without hesitation. Smooth, practiced moves.
"Next," he chuckled, swiping up.
But within seconds of the new video playing, his face changed instantly.
Bang!
The phone smacked him square in the face, but he didn't feel a thing.
Zephyr's familiar face filled the screen.
Every word from the video slammed into his skull like a hammer.
"Neo Marines... established immediately..."
As that sentence dropped, Onigumo's pupils shrank to pinpricks.
He shot up from the bed so fast that two buttons on his uniform popped off with a snap.
The hand that had gripped a sword for years now trembled like a leaf.
His phone slipped to the floor with a dull clatter.
"Wh-what kind of joke is this…"
The words squeezed out from his dry throat.
Sweat beaded instantly on his forehead.
His mind went blank with a buzz.
All he could hear was the roar of his own blood pounding in his ears.
The next second, this always-composed Marine Vice Admiral—known for his military precision—bolted barefoot from his dorm.
His footfalls pounded across the marble corridor.
Thump-thump-thump echoed as one bare foot smacked the cold floor.
Recruits flattened against the walls in terror as he charged past like a rampaging beast.
"Out of the way! Everybody move!"
His roars echoed through Marine Headquarters.
He slammed into a stack of documents being carried by a few soldiers at the corner.
Papers scattered like snowflakes.
Among them, he caught a glimpse of the phrase "Seven Warlords Appointment Document."
His stomach churned.
He didn't stop until he reached the Fleet Admiral's office.
Without knocking, he kicked the door wide open.
BANG!
The door slammed against the wall, shaking the room.
Inside, Sengoku was startled. He looked up at Onigumo's pale, wild-eyed face. His heart sank.
"Onigumo, what's going on?"
Onigumo stumbled in, ashen-faced like he'd seen a ghost.
Blood was trailing from a fresh cut on his bare foot, staining the carpet.
"F-Fleet Admiral…"
He was panting heavily, voice hoarse.
"Zephyr… Teacher Zephyr… he…"
Before he could finish, his legs buckled, and he collapsed to the floor with a thud.
Only then did he realize his Marine cloak had gotten twisted somehow—now looped awkwardly around his neck like a noose.
"You… You should just watch for yourself."
He handed over his phone with a shaking hand.
The screen was playing Zephyr's departure video.
In it, his signature purple hair blew in the sea breeze. The crimson sunset behind him lit the entire scene like a final blaze.
"The New Marines will uphold true justice…"
CLATTER!
A teacup shattered against the floor with a crisp, piercing sound.
Porcelain fragments scraped past Sengoku's pants, and warm tea spread across the floor in strange, twisting lines.
Across the table, Staff Officer Tsuru's quill snapped in half with a crack, ink splattering all over the documents.
"This is… impossible…"
Sengoku's voice, always calm, now sounded raw and sanded down.
He instinctively gripped the edge of the desk.
His knuckles turned white.
On the screen, Zephyr raised his hand in a standard military salute.
The very salute he had taught generation after generation of Marines.
Now, it looked like the most painful betrayal of all.
(To be continued.)