Chapter 7: The Crucible of Justice

The island loomed up out of the ocean like a serrated wound, its cliffs hidden in cloud, its forests a dark, muttering bank.

Dragon stood on the deck of the Marine transport vessel, the wind whipping at his frayed training uniform. Below him, the last 100 recruits clung to their packs, their faces worn with fatigue and defiance.

The Trial of Justice lay ahead a harsh crucible that would identify the strongest among them to bear the Marine name.

Captain Riku's voice cut through the tension, sharp as a blade.

"Listen up! You're being dropped into different zones. Your objective: reach the central outpost in 48 hours. Armed instructors, trained beasts, and even your own comrades will test you. Trust no one. Move!"

The recruits ran into rowboats, the ocean beneath them churning. Dragon's boat cut through waves, leaving him on a rocky shore strewn with driftwood. He ran for the trees, his senses acute, the burden of his father's expectation and his own beliefs weighing on his chest.

His domain was a thick jungle, the canopy strangling the sun, the air heavy with moisture. Vines caught on his boots as he walked, Observation Haki prickling at the periphery of his consciousness. A movement to his left—too practiced to be spontaneous. He dropped as a Marine instructor exploded from the underbrush, a staff whistling for his head. Dragon rolled, leaping up with a boxer's hook that caught the man's jaw.

The teacher growled, striking back with a wild swing, but Dragon disappeared in a flash of Shave, reappearing to drive a knee into his stomach.

The man folded up, and Dragon continued, breathing calmly.

Hours blended into each other, the jungle a gauntlet of danger. A group of wolves—eyes shining with trained cruelty—blocked his way, their growls low and ominous. Dragon stood tall, releasing a burst of Conqueror's Haki, a raw flow of will that sent them yelping into the underbrush. One hung back, lunging with bared teeth, and he greeted it with a Haki-coated uppercut, the crunch of bone ringing through the trees.

Night descended, a shroud of stars piercing the cover. Dragon discovered a hollow under a twisted root, tying a shallow gash on his arm with a strip of cloth. Rest was a luxury he could not indulge in—time was running out, the outpost still far away.

As he prepared to move again, a familiar voice hissed from above.

"You look terrible."

Dragon's head snapped up to see Suki perched in the crook of a tree branch, arms crossed. Her uniform was torn, a cut running down her cheek, but her smirk remained intact.

"Suki."

He exhaled, lowering his stance.

"You following me?"

She dropped down beside him, brushing dirt off her knee.

"Nah. Just keeping an eye on the competition."

Her teasing tone softened.

"You're pushing too hard. Even you need a second to breathe."

Dragon didn't answer, merely adjusting his bandages. Suki sighed, kneeling to help. "Here," she murmured, tightening the knot expertly. Her fingers brushed his skin, lingering just a second too long.

"You're good at hiding pain, but I see it."

Dragon met her gaze—intense, searching. A flicker of something passed between them before he looked away.

"I'll manage."

She pulled back but smiled faintly.

"I know you will. That's kind of the problem."

With that, she stood.

"Come on, let's get moving before the real monsters wake up."

---

Dawn ushered in new challenges. A wobbly rope bridge bridged a gulf, swaying in the wind. Halfway across, a figure stepped out of the fog—a recruit, gaunt and desperate, a knife flashing in his hand.

"Sorry, Garp's kid,"

he growled.

"Only one of us gets through."

Dragon dodged as the blade ripped, the bridge shaking under them.

"We don't have to do this," he said, voice steady.

"There's another way."

The recruit laughed harshly. "Naive bastard!" He charged again, and Dragon spun, grabbing his wrist and over-the-shouldering him. The boy hung from the ropes, cursing, and Dragon pulled him up, fixing him with a glare.

"Go," Dragon said. "But consider what justice actually is."

The recruit backed away, fear and uncertainty battling in his eyes. Dragon stepped onto the bridge, his resolve unbroken.

---

Back in Foosha Village, Tyson stood alone on the cliffs, the sea stretching endlessly before him. He drove his fist into a boulder, the stone splintering under Armament Haki, but his thoughts were with Dragon.

"You better make it, nii-san,"

he muttered, the wind carrying his words away.

"Show 'em what we're made of."

---

Dragon prodded further into the island, the landscape becoming more unforgiving—swamps that pulled at his boots, cliffs that required painful ascents. An instructor jumped out on him at the crest of a ridge, this one attacking with a sword that killed with deadly precision.

Steel met Dragon's Haki-knitted arms, sparks flying as he deflected and counterattacked with a flurry of punches—jab, cross, hook—each punch a thunderclap. The instructor stumbled, and Dragon wrapped up with a spinning kick, which dumped him onto the ground.

As the second day declined, the outpost's outline resolved out of the mist, a white stone beacon. But the last little distance had the worst obstacle: a giant bear, its coat tangled with wounds, its bellow causing the ground to tremble. This was not an animal of the wild—its pace was too calculated, its power augmented by Marine training.

Dragon cracked his knuckles, Armament Haki darkening his fists. "Let's finish this."

The bear charged, a whirl of claws and rage. Dragon confronted it head-on, dodging swipes with Shave, landing a crushing right hook to its jaw. It roared, slamming a paw down, and he rolled aside, replying with a rising knee that sent the beast stumbling. The battle was a brutal ballet—Dragon's martial finesse against the bear's brute strength. Blood dripped from his shoulder, but he clamped his teeth shut, focusing all his will into one final strike: a Haki-enhanced straight punch that blasted into the bear's head, breaking it on the ground.

He stumbled past, the outpost mere yards away. Other recruits staggered in—Suki among them, her face bruised but triumphant. She met his gaze, something unspoken passing between them before she smirked. "You made it," she said. "Took you long enough."

Dragon chuckled breathlessly. "I could say the same to you."

As the 48th hour ticked down, Captain Riku approached.

"Monkey D. Dragon, you've passed the Trial of Justice. Welcome to the Marines."

Relief washed over him, balanced by fatigue. He'd done it—established his strength, his value. But as he looked at Suki, her smile fading into something softer, he realized something else: he wasn't alone in questioning what came next.