Knock, knock, knock.
Diarmuid heard a knock on the door in his sleep. He opened his eyes and looked out the window.
Half of the sun had already sunk into the sea; night was approaching.
"Come in," Diarmuid said, sitting up from the sofa.
A Marine Branch Lieutenant Commander pushed the door open and walked in, a sword in his hands.
"Captain Diarmuid, reporting! The mission is complete. We've secured the Nagasone Kotetsu." The Lieutenant Commander spoke quickly.
Diarmuid gestured for him to come closer. The Lieutenant Commander took a few steps forward and, holding the sword out with both hands, presented it to Diarmuid.
The Nagasone Kotetsu was one of the legendary swords.
This world had many famous swords, but they were classified into different grades: the Supreme Grade (12), the Great Grade (21), the Skillful Grade (50), and the unquantified "Grade" swords.
The Supreme Grade were naturally the best of the best. The most famous were the Black Blade Yoru, wielded by the future Warlord of the Sea and World's Strongest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, as well as the Murakumogiri in the hands of the World's Strongest Man, Whitebeard, Edward Newgate, and the legendary Shodai Kitetsu. All were ranked among the Supreme Grade.
The Great Grade swords were slightly less powerful. The most famous of these would one day be Roronoa Zoro's Wado Ichimonji and the Shusui.
There was no need to go into the Skillful Grade.
The Nagasone Kotetsu in front of Diarmuid was one of the Great Grade swords.
Its scabbard was jet black with faint patterns on it. The guard was shaped like a tiger's mouth, and the hilt was wrapped in black rope interwoven with dark red stripes. Before it was unsheathed, the sword looked plain and unassuming.
Diarmuid took the Nagasone Kotetsu, gripping the scabbard and hilt. He slowly pulled them apart, and the blade sheathed within began to reveal its edge.
With only two fingers' worth of the blade exposed, Diarmuid could already feel its sharpness. The blade faintly glowed with a pale blue light, giving it a piercingly cold aura.
A smile crept onto his face.
He pulled the rest of the Nagasone Kotetsu out of its scabbard, revealing its true form.
The blade was a deep blue with a gradual, tiered kanji pattern on it. It felt perfect in his hands, not too heavy, not too light, and just the right length.
At first glance, the sword looked like a mountain stream, trickling quietly and peacefully.
But once he held it, the feeling was completely different. It felt like he was holding a tiger, ready to strike and devour with a single swing.
As a swordsman… well, he could probably call himself one, even if he wasn't that strong.
In any case, after drawing the sword, Diarmuid no longer doubted its authenticity.
This was definitely the Nagasone Kotetsu, one of the Great Grade swords!
He knew it instinctively!
It was a completely different level from the ordinary sword he had carried before. He could feel it just by holding it.
"What a sword! It lives up to its reputation as one of the Great Grade. With this Nagasone Kotetsu in my hand, I'm even more confident about passing the officer training camp exam," Diarmuid said with a hint of excitement.
"With your strength, Captain, you're bound to pass the exam and get promoted to Marineford," the Lieutenant Commander quickly buttered him up.
Diarmuid wasn't originally from this world. Over ten years ago, his soul was transported here, where he became who he was now.
He was born in the North Blue, a commoner with the full name Rodriguez Diarmuid.
He was nineteen years old. Seven years ago, when he was all alone and couldn't make it on his own, he gritted his teeth and joined the Marines. He started as the lowest-ranking chore boy at Marine Branch 113 in the North Blue.
He swept the decks, cleaned the mess halls... he did all the lowest-level grunt work on the ship.
For seven years, he climbed the ranks step by step, and now he was the second-in-command of North Blue's Marine Branch 113, the Deputy Commander.
His rank was also that of a Captain.
A Branch Captain, of course.
In short, he had endured a lot of hardship and risk over the past seven years. His rise to the rank of Branch Captain was both a result of hard work and a bit of luck.
Diarmuid knew how cruel this world was, and he had already experienced some of it himself.
That's why he valued his own strength so much.
But it was of no use. He didn't have a good background, a famous teacher, or a mentor, so he could only work hard on his own.
For seven years, he had been hoping to find a Devil Fruit to eat, but Devil Fruits were a treasure of the sea, not something you could just stumble upon.
He had been a Marine since he was twelve and still hadn't seen a real Devil Fruit.
He had once thought that joining the Marines would allow him to learn Rokushiki, but that was also a pipe dream.
Rokushiki seemed common, but it actually had a high barrier to entry. Marines in the four seas were not qualified to learn it. Only Marine Branches in the Grand Line had that privilege, and, of course, Marine Headquarters, Marineford, definitely had it.
So, after all his years in the Marines, Diarmuid still hadn't learned any Rokushiki.
Not to mention advanced things like Haki; he had no way of coming into contact with it.
If he had to claim any skill, it was the most basic swordsmanship he had learned from the Branch's sword instructor.
Because of this, Diarmuid could, at best, call himself a "swordsman."
However, as a transmigrator, Diarmuid wasn't without his advantages. If he had to call it a cheat, it was a talent he had.
His first one was a special talent called Iron Will. He had spent years understanding its effects.
It gave him a high immunity to pain, injuries, and fatigue.
Especially in combat, no matter how severe his injuries were, he barely felt any pain and wouldn't lose his will to fight because of it.
Of course, this didn't mean he was immune to injuries. He would still get as hurt as he should. His head would still fall off if it was cut off, and he would still die from too much blood loss. It just meant his mental state or will was immune to the pain.
For example, if an enemy stabbed him, he wouldn't feel much pain and wouldn't make any extra movements because of it, allowing him to quickly counter.
But in Diarmuid's opinion, the most powerful part of this ability wasn't for combat. It was for his daily training.
Polishing his skills was a very tedious and exhausting task.
But because of his Iron Will, Diarmuid had never slacked off in his swordsmanship training for seven years. His fundamentals were solid.
Combined with his resistance to fatigue, it allowed him to break his limits at the fastest possible rate.
In short, he had benefited a lot from it over the years.
Besides his Iron Will, his consciousness… or maybe his soul, his spirit?
Inside him was a black core, and he still had no idea what it was.
But thanks to it, Diarmuid could clearly feel his strength getting an extraordinary boost every time he broke through a physical or stamina barrier, far exceeding what a normal person could achieve.
In total, his strength was nothing extraordinary and wouldn't even stand out in a sea like the North Blue.
But it wasn't bad either. At the very least, he had earned his position as a Marine Branch Captain.
He had gotten here purely on his own strength.
Ignoring his swordsmanship, just with his ordinary strength, Diarmuid could shatter a solid, three-meter-high, five-meter-wide rock in the Marine training yard with a single punch!
This was the fundamental reason he was able to hold the rank of Marine Branch Captain at the young age of nineteen.
"Thanks for the kind words," Diarmuid said cheerfully.
After a slight pause, he asked again, "Were there any problems?"
"No," the Lieutenant Commander quickly replied.
It was nothing more than taking down some local thugs at the docks and seizing their criminal evidence. To the Marines, this was reasonable and legitimate, so how could there be a problem?
"Good. Let's head back to base," Diarmuid said with a nod.
Soon, the Marine warship from Marine Branch 113 left the port and began its journey back to base.
A few days later, on a certain island in the North Blue, at a Donquixote Family stronghold.
The young Donquixote Doflamingo was still not an adult; he was just a kid.
He had an extremely volatile temper and a deep-seated hatred for this world. At this time, he hadn't even learned how to hide this hatred and aura of destruction.
Even if he tripped on a raised stone on the street, his family would destroy the entire street just to vent his anger.
One could only imagine how volatile this kid was now.
"The Marines took the sword?" Diamante asked in surprise.
Trebol nodded. "That's right. A Captain from Marine Branch 113. Doffy, should we go and take him out?"
Doflamingo showed no interest in the matter. He shook his head. "There's no need for that. We'll get to it later. I heard some big shots from Marine Headquarters have come to the North Blue… now is not a good time to clash with the Marines."
It was clear that even with his volatile temper, he had always been shrewd.
Just for one famous sword, Doflamingo wouldn't directly challenge the authority of the Marines, especially at a time like this.
He had more important things to deal with.
"Have you found Rosinante yet?" Doflamingo asked in a low voice.
His younger brother, Rosinante, had run away and disappeared not long ago!
Doflamingo and his crew had been searching for him for a long time but still hadn't found him.
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TN: Nagasone is a japanese surname while Kotetsu literally means Tiger Cutter/Piercer/Slash