Since joining the Black Star Pirates, Cavendish had never missed his daily training regimen. This was especially true after consuming the Rumble-Rumble Fruit—that moment had awakened something deep within him, a burning determination that refused to be extinguished.
I have to keep up with Jerry's pace, he told himself during every grueling session. I need to become a powerful force that everyone can rely on, a safe harbor that can protect my friends from any storm. And naturally, along the way, he intended to become a world-renowned idol of the highest caliber.
Though born a prince of the Bourgeois Kingdom, Cavendish had long since abandoned any attachment to that title. Apart from maintaining basic etiquette at meals and social gatherings, he rarely even thought about his royal heritage. What mattered now was strength, improvement, and proving himself worthy of his crew.
Cavendish's training routine was arguably the most comprehensive among the Black Star Pirates. He dedicated himself to multiple disciplines: swordsmanship, Devil Fruit mastery, Haki development, willpower strengthening, proper posture, and the refined self-training expected of a quality idol. He was, without question, a master of time management.
But above all else, Cavendish focused on the aspects most directly related to combat effectiveness. He understood that real strength formed the foundation for survival in this world. An idol without power might capture attention for a brief moment, but only true strength could earn lasting respect and recognition.
"Beautiful Sword: Blue Bird!"
Brilliant sword light coalesced into the form of a giant bird, wrapping around Cavendish as he dove toward Hawkeye with devastating speed. The technique combined his natural grace with deadly precision, creating an attack that was both beautiful and lethal.
Dracule Mihawk stood motionless on the wreckage of a ship abandoned by the fleeing Krieg Pirates. The supreme grade sword Yoru rested in his hands, its black blade angled diagonally downward as he hovered calmly in the air above the destruction.
Clang!
The crisp ring of steel on steel echoed across the water as Hawkeye silently swung his blade. The sheer force of his parry sent Cavendish flying backward through the air, completely overwhelming the younger swordsman's aerial assault.
Without missing a beat, Hawkeye shifted his stance with minimal movement, effortlessly deflecting each of Cavendish's follow-up attacks. His economy of motion was breathtaking—every small adjustment perfectly countered whatever Cavendish threw at him.
"Beautiful Sword: Stardust Slash!"
Cavendish's form became a blur as he channeled everything into a powerful technique he'd been preparing. His body moved like a phantom, striking out with accumulated force and precision.
Bang!
Hawkeye raised his sword to block, but for the first time in their exchange, a flicker of surprise crossed his hawk-like eyes. Under the fierce pressure of Cavendish's attack, the World's Greatest Swordsman was forced to take several steps backward.
"If this is all you have," Hawkeye said calmly, his voice carrying easily across the water, "I advise you to give up now. Otherwise, my next strike will send you to the bottom of the sea."
Unlike his silent intensity during combat, Hawkeye had no trouble speaking during lulls in the action. He studied the young man before him with calculating eyes, then shifted his grip on the black blade. Something in Cavendish's last attack had crossed a threshold in the legendary swordsman's mind.
Clearly, Hawkeye no longer intended to limit himself to pure defense. The time for testing was over.
"Jerry..." Deuce whispered from their vantage point, watching the battle unfold from a safe distance. Even with his limited experience, he could see that Cavendish was at a severe disadvantage. And Deuce was no longer the complete novice he'd once been—his assessment carried weight.
Jerry placed a reassuring hand on Deuce's shoulder. "Don't worry. Cavendish still has a few tricks up his sleeve."
Back on the battlefield, Cavendish drew a deep breath and performed an elegant sword flourish. Fighting spirit blazed in his eyes as he met Hawkeye's gaze without flinching. "Come on then! I want to see the true strength of the world's number one swordsman!"
"As you wish," Hawkeye replied with perfect composure.
His aura exploded outward like a raging storm, pressure washing over the surrounding area in waves. Without another word, he launched himself forward like an arrow, his blade cutting through space itself with a straight, devastating slash.
Every alarm bell in Cavendish's mind started ringing at once. His expression grew deadly serious as he realized the enormous gap between playing defense against a casual Hawkeye and facing the man's genuine offensive intent.
He activated his Armament Haki to its absolute limit, pouring every ounce of his spiritual energy into the technique. The named sword Durandal in his hands transformed, becoming as dark as the night sky and radiating intense power.
"Beautiful Sword: Gale Slash!"
His blade swept across the sky in a silver arc as both figures collided in a blur of motion. For a split second, it seemed like they were perfectly matched—two masters of the sword meeting in perfect harmony.
Then reality reasserted itself.
Clang!
The metallic collision rang out like a bell as Cavendish was blown backward, his defense shattered like water scattered by a hurricane. Hawkeye didn't pause to admire his work. With an expressionless face, he sent another sharp wave of sword energy racing after the airborne Cavendish, then followed up by dragging his black blade behind him as he flew forward for a finishing strike.
Feeling unprecedented pressure and mortal danger bearing down on him, something shifted in Cavendish's mind. The furrow of concentration on his brow suddenly smoothed away.
For just an instant, his face twisted into something disturbing. The right side maintained his handsome features, but the left side contorted into the savage grin of his second personality—Hakuba that lived within him.
The transformation lasted only a blink, so brief it might have been an illusion. Cavendish's face returned to normal, but the aura surrounding him had changed completely. Where before there had been refined elegance, now there was raw, predatory violence. His entire being radiated an edge sharp enough to cut, violent enough to make weaker souls tremble in terror.
Hawkeye, still rushing forward, sensed the dramatic shift halfway through his attack. Another flicker of surprise crossed his features, and for the first time, the corners of his mouth curved upward in genuine interest. "Not bad."
Cavendish's figure vanished from the air in an instant, avoiding Hawkeye's sword energy at the last possible moment. The technique was pure instinct—Hakuba's supernatural speed and reflexes operating through Cavendish's conscious control.
The next moment, he reappeared like a hurricane made flesh, launching wave after wave of intensive attacks designed to overwhelm his opponent through sheer volume and ferocity. Each strike carried killing intent, each movement flowed into the next without pause.
Hawkeye remained perfectly calm despite the barrage. He dismantled each of Cavendish's techniques methodically, turning defense into counterattack with seamless precision.
The two swordsmen became blurs of motion, their clash creating a deadly dance across the sky. Their speed was so incredible that weaker observers couldn't even track their movements—all they could see was the devastation left in their wake.
Ship wreckage and wooden debris floating on the sea around them seemed to disintegrate before invisible forces. Pieces of hull and mast were sliced into splinters in the blink of an eye, as if consumed by some ravenous, unseen creature.
"Are all the people in the Grand Line such monsters?" On the main ship of the fleeing Krieg Pirates, one sailor stood frozen in shock before suddenly losing control completely. "I want to go back to East Blue! I want to go home!"
Their remaining ships had just escaped immediate danger, and many crew members who'd been silently thanking their lucky stars for survival now witnessed this display of inhuman skill. Deep despair and helplessness settled into their hearts like lead weights.
Bang!
Don Krieg shot the screaming subordinate without expression and kicked the body overboard. His face twisted with rage and humiliation as he roared in a hoarse voice, "Move! We're going back to East Blue to regroup!"
Jerry glanced at the Krieg Pirates' pitiful retreat—a once-mighty armada reduced to a handful of battered ships and demoralized survivors. He raised one finger and whispered softly, "A small lesson. Water Dragon Bullet."
A massive dragon made of seawater suddenly erupted from the ocean near Krieg's flagship, shooting skyward with tremendous force.
"What the hell is that?!"
The pirates stared in bug-eyed terror as the water dragon twisted through the air before crashing down onto their deck with the force of a tidal wave, sending their ship rocking violently and soaking every man aboard.