A special sword technique?
Momonga's expression twisted, caught between disbelief and curiosity.
"Can you even call that swordsmanship?" he asked dryly, glancing sidelong at Darren.
He knew Darren's magnetic sword control better than anyone—the way his blades danced through the air, guided by the power of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit and amplified further by Enma's terrifying energy after Darren devoured the More-More Fruit. A single full-powered strike from that combination could annihilate a small island.
But that wasn't swordsmanship born from discipline or artistry. It was raw, destructive force—science and Devil Fruit mastery masquerading as swordplay.
Darren sighed inwardly. Didn't think Momonga would be this snarky.
"Why wouldn't it count?" Darren said with feigned seriousness. "I am fighting with swords, aren't I?"
Momonga blinked. He's… technically right. Still, something about it felt wrong.
Darren turned back toward Mihawk, a confident grin stretching across his face. "I accept your challenge. But tell me—are you prepared to pay the price of failure?"
Mihawk's young face remained composed, his tone solemn. "I know the rules."
"One arm, right?"
"Every Supernova of our generation who's faced you lost an arm," Mihawk said evenly. "Kozuki Oden of the Whitebeard Pirates. Douglas Bullet—the so-called Demon Heir, once of the Roger Pirates, now a Warlord of the Sea. And Crocodile—the Sand Crocodile."
As he spoke, his gaze flicked toward Gecko Moria, who had just regained consciousness. Moria gasped for air, drenched in sweat, his gaze hazy with pain. Mihawk's eyes lingered for a moment on the charred stump of Moria's missing arm.
When they lifted again, they burned like twin stars.
"If that's the price for growing stronger, then so be it," Mihawk declared. "Even if I lose an arm—if that's what it takes to become the World's Strongest Swordsman—I'll pay it gladly!"
Momonga's pupils contracted sharply.
That level of resolve… it was beyond mere bravado. For a swordsman, an arm wasn't just flesh—it was his life, his craft, his pride. And yet, this youth was ready to cast it aside for a single duel.
Even without comparing strength, his spirit alone eclipsed Moria's.
Momonga shot the wounded pirate a cold glance.
Moria snarled, teeth grinding. "What's with that look, you bastard?!"
"I see," Darren murmured, the corner of his mouth lifting. His gaze softened with something almost like admiration.
So that's why you took a liking to Zoro.
There was a brilliance to this kind of arrogance—the reckless, unyielding fire of youth. The courage to chase one's dream with open eyes, even knowing it might end in death.
The kind of light that burned fast, but burned beautifully.
"Then… as you wish."
Darren raised his right hand and extended three fingers. "Three moves. Block them all, and you live. Fail, and…"
"Take my arm! Take my life! Take anything you want!" Mihawk roared before he could finish. His voice thundered across the waves, brimming with unshakable conviction.
"Good!" Darren laughed, genuine delight bursting through his voice. Despite the boy's arrogance, he couldn't help but feel a spark of fondness. That spirit—the kind that would never bow, never flinch—demanded respect.
"Don't die too easily, Mihawk," Darren said, smiling faintly. "Now, let me show you… my swordsmanship."
Momonga sighed inwardly. Here we go again…
Without warning, a piercing sonic boom split the air above.
Mihawk's expression shifted. He felt it—the aura of legendary blades.
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Whoosh!
Three streaks of lightning tore through the thick clouds, plunging downward like falling stars.
Boom!!
The ground shook violently as they struck, wind howling outward in a storm of dust and debris.
When the haze cleared, Mihawk's eyes widened.
Three long swords hovered in the air around Darren—each radiating an oppressive, deadly presence. Their edges gleamed faintly, alive with power, as though they possessed wills of their own.
"Just as I thought…" Mihawk whispered, his voice trembling with awe.
"The Demon Blade Enma of Wano Country…"
"And the twin blades of the Great Pirate Golden Lion Shiki—the strongest dual-blade swordsman of his age… Oto and Kogarashi…" His breath quickened. "You've claimed all of them?!"
He could barely contain himself. As a man devoted entirely to the sword, Mihawk had memorized the legends of every Meito ever forged. For him, to see even one of these blades in person was a dream. To face all three at once—
It was ecstasy.
Enma. Oto. Kogarashi. Each a treasure that stood at the pinnacle of craftsmanship and history.
Now they hovered before him—serving a single man.
"I see you recognize them," Darren said with a faint smile. "Then there's no need for introductions."
"Ready?"
Mihawk inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. When they opened again, all youthful heat had vanished, replaced by the razor calm of a true swordsman.
"I'm ready."
"Excellent."
The world went silent. Even the sea seemed to hold its breath.
The air around Darren shimmered. Blue arcs of electricity crawled along his fingers, expanding outward in waves that distorted the very space around him. The magnetic field thickened, pressing down on everything like a living weight.
The ruins groaned. Metal twisted. Stones trembled. The sea flattened.
"What… what is this power?" Moria whispered, his face deathly pale. The air itself seemed to bend and waver under Darren's magnetic force.
"Whoa, whoa—something's off!" Momonga hissed. His body flickered, light crackling around him as his form began to destabilize. "He's warping my lightning?! Damn it—his magnetic field's pulling me into elementalization!"
Darren didn't even glance at him.
"Watch closely," he said calmly. "This is the first strike."
One of the blades, a slender silver katana, shifted in midair—its tip aligning perfectly with Mihawk.
Its hilt bore a cross-shaped insignia, and faint cherry blossom patterns glimmered along the blade. Under the sunlight, it shimmered softly, like petals carried by a spring breeze.
"A true cross. A reversed blade with the fleeting beauty of falling blossoms," Darren murmured. "Its name… Oto."
He extended a hand. "Shoot him."
The air exploded.
Electric light blazed across the blade as Oto accelerated with inhuman force. The sound barrier shattered in an instant.
Boom!
The sword became a streak of silver lightning, slicing through the air with perfect precision, trailing concentric ripples of white shockwaves as it hurtled toward Mihawk—
A thunderbolt born of steel and will.
To be continued...