With Whitebeard's departure, the monumental battle finally came to a close.
On the Marine warship, the soldiers cast looks of pure admiration toward the man standing at the center of it all.
The World's Greatest Swordsman.
Such an honor, such a title, yet only Ezra D. Vale could face it with such calm indifference.
"Admiral Residual Flame, should we pursue them?"
Aokiji spoke up from nearby.
Ezra shook his head lightly.
"There's no need to rush. After today, I doubt those pirates will dare act recklessly for quite some time."
His gaze shifted to the unconscious figure lying on the deck.
Mihawk was in miserable condition.
His clothes were scorched and torn, his skin burned by the raging fire vortex. Even his hair and beard carried a strange, singed smell.
"Ship's doctor, treat him first," Ezra said calmly.
"Yes, Admiral!"
Several soldiers carefully lifted Mihawk and carried him into the cabin.
Ezra stretched lazily.
"We're heading to the East Blue. Drop him off there."
"Yes, Admiral!"
The deck erupted into activity as the crew moved to carry out orders.
Ezra reclined on a deck chair, letting the sea breeze wash over him as he reflected on the battle.
Although Mihawk's strength was nowhere near his own, his understanding of swordsmanship was undeniably profound. That clash had still given Ezra a small but valuable insight, enough to refine his own blade even further.
Three days passed in the blink of an eye.
Inside the cabin, Mihawk finally opened his eyes.
"Where… am I?"
His throat was dry, his voice hoarse. He struggled to sit up and noticed Yoru resting beside him. His heart steadied instantly.
"You're awake? Please wait a moment."
The ship's doctor approached and handed him a cup of water.
Mihawk drank greedily, feeling life return to his body.
"This is Admiral Ezra D. Vale's ship. You lost consciousness after the duel. It was his order that we saved you."
Mihawk nodded faintly.
"Regardless, thank you for your help."
The doctor smiled and waved it off.
"How do you feel? Any discomfort?"
Mihawk clenched his fists, testing his strength, then shook his head slowly.
"That's good. Eat something first. I'll inform the Admiral."
"There's no need. I'll see him myself."
"But you need food."
"It's fine."
Mihawk stood, slung Yoru over his back, and made his way to the deck.
The brilliant sunlight and vast blue sea made him squint for a moment.
"Oh? You're awake already, Mihawk?"
A lazy voice reached his ears.
"Aokiji… Vice Admiral?"
Aokiji nodded.
"Where is Admiral Vale?"
Aokiji pointed toward the bow.
"Thank you."
Mihawk approached the deck chair at the front of the ship.
"You really shouldn't be wandering around right after waking up," Ezra said without opening his eyes.
"Thank you for your assistance, Admiral. I feel much better now."
Ezra glanced at Mihawk's pale face and rolled his eyes.
"Let me guess. You skipped eating again. Sit down and wait. We're almost there."
Mihawk frowned slightly.
"Where are we going?"
Ezra's lips curved into a faint smile.
"The Sea Restaurant Baratie."
Mihawk raised an eyebrow.
The floating restaurant had risen to fame in the East Blue over the past two years.
As the two spoke, Aokiji walked over.
"We're approaching the restaurant."
"Good. Come along, Aokiji," Ezra replied.
The three disembarked.
Ezra surveyed the massive floating restaurant. Fish-shaped figureheads adorned both ends of the ship, and the entire structure could even transform into a combat vessel.
It was clear that Zeff had poured his heart into its design.
At this moment, Zeff had no idea that an extraordinary guest was about to walk through his doors.
"Let's eat."
Hands in his pockets, Ezra strolled inside.
"Welcome! How many guests?"
Chef Patty froze mid-sentence when he met those crimson eyes.
"A Marine Admiral?"
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief.
Looking again, his breath caught.
"A Marine Admiral?!"
The shout silenced the entire restaurant.
"That man… it's Admiral Residual Flame!"
"The strongest force of Marine Headquarters!"
"And the World's Greatest Swordsman!"
The chefs sucked in sharp breaths. Many of them were former pirates. Fear of the Marines ran deep, especially when the man before them was Ezra D. Vale himself.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The sound of a peg leg echoed across the floor.
Ezra looked up.
Zeff emerged from the kitchen.
"Patty! What are you shouting for?"
"Anyone who enters this restaurant is a guest!"
"Seat them immediately!"
Patty swallowed hard and nodded frantically.
"T-this way, please."
Under his guidance, the trio took a seat by the window.
Only then did Patty realize who else was sitting with Ezra.
Mihawk.
Aokiji.
Patty felt his soul leaving his body.
If this table was dissatisfied, the entire restaurant might vanish.
He was certain of it.
Tears welled in his eyes.
"Why is everyone in the East Blue like this…?"
"Patty, you idiot! Leave it to me!"
A youthful voice cut in, saving him from despair.
Ezra smiled faintly.
A blond young man approached, his curled eyebrow twitching.
Vinsmoke Sanji.
Still a teenager, already holding a cigarette.
"Gentlemen, is there anything special you would like today?"
Ezra waved a hand.
"Your specialty. Three servings. Make them hearty. We have a patient who just woke up."
His eyes flicked toward Mihawk.
Mihawk felt his hunger surge.
"Thank you, young man."
Sanji smiled brightly.
"No problem. Just remember one rule."
"Never waste food."