As the massive sword aura finished condensing in his hand, Amon's lips curved slightly.
Satisfied.
After all that comprehension, he had finally taken the first step, fusing his martial arts with his swordsmanship. He could feel it clearly. His sword had become sharper, heavier, more complete than before.
He relaxed his fingers.
The sword aura that felt like it could tear the world apart vanished into nothing, as if it had never existed.
Then he tightened his hand again.
The sword aura returned instantly.
It formed so naturally that even Amon paused for a beat, enjoying the control.
He wanted to test it.
Amon kicked off the deck and sprang into the air. His hands shifted, gathering the two streams of sword aura.
They merged into one.
A thicker, more terrifying blade of force, even stronger than the last by several degrees, condensed in his grasp. The pressure around it made the air feel thin.
Amon held it for one heartbeat.
Then he swung his arm toward the distant sea.
The sword aura shot out like a judgment, racing forward with cold, violent sharpness.
Boom!
Violet energy curled around the blade as it struck the ocean. In the instant it touched, it behaved like a colossal cutter. The sea split apart, peeled open from the center, leaving behind a massive trench, deep enough that the darkness at the bottom looked endless.
Amon stared at the result and nodded.
Good.
No wonder it had eaten half his stamina. The power was worth the cost.
With the test complete, he dropped back down and returned to the ship.
...
Waves howled.
The sword's momentum had kicked up a monstrous wall of water, and now the sea was returning the favor. A towering surge fell back down, rushing toward the ship.
Amon looked up.
"…Seriously?"
So this was the price of showing off.
Show off for a moment, get buried by the aftermath.
Luckily, the ship had an energy barrier. Otherwise he would have been turned into a soaked rat right on his own deck.
Amon clicked his tongue.
Whatever. It can't get in anyway.
He turned, ready to head back into the cabin and rest.
Then a shadow slid across the far distance ahead, brief as a blink.
Amon stopped.
"Hm?"
A ship?
Out here?
And still moving under this kind of wave?
He narrowed his eyes and opened Observation Haki.
The world expanded.
The silhouette sharpened.
He saw the figure standing on that strange little vessel.
A man in a black top hat trimmed with white feathers. A wine-red patterned shirt. A black cloak draped over his shoulders. Around thirty. A pair of eyes as sharp as a hawk's.
A small cross-shaped dagger hung on his chest.
A massive black blade was strapped across his back.
And the boat itself…
Amon's expression turned odd.
It was shaped like a coffin.
A coffin, drifting across the sea like it belonged there.
The swordsman on it looked slightly disheveled, soaked by the falling water. He could split waves with his blade, but the rain of water crashing down from above was harder to fully cut away.
Amon stared, then his eyelids lowered slowly.
"…No way. That's Dracule Mihawk."
The strongest swordsman of this world.
"Hawk-Eyes."
Amon did not expect to run into him in the East Blue. Mihawk should have been on the Grand Line as one of the Seven Warlords. What was he doing here?
Then Amon glanced at the wet cloak, the damp shirt, the water dripping off the hat brim.
He nearly laughed.
So even Hawk-Eyes could look miserable.
...
Mihawk was, in fact, in a bad mood.
He had fallen asleep on his little boat, and when he woke up, he discovered he had somehow drifted from the Grand Line all the way into the East Blue.
As if that were not irritating enough, a small-time pirate crew with no sense had tried to rob him for his weapon.
The result was obvious.
Mihawk, cranky from being woken up, cut them down with one swing.
After that, he planned to go back to sleep.
Then he felt it.
A terrifyingly sharp sword aura erupting not far ahead.
The chill it carried made even Mihawk's eyes tighten. The pressure was so clean and so heavy that the strength behind it felt… beyond his own.
His pride did not vanish, but something else rose alongside it.
Curiosity.
Mihawk abandoned the thought of sleeping and steered toward the source at once.
And then, as if the sea wanted to toy with him, the sword aura vanished halfway.
Mihawk frowned, genuinely annoyed. For a moment he thought he had arrived too late.
Then the sword aura appeared again.
His eyes lit up.
Then his expression froze.
Because the sword aura was flying straight at him.
Mihawk was arrogant, but he was not stupid. That kind of attack was not something you blocked head-on.
He immediately poured everything into controlling his little coffin boat, swerving as hard as he could to evade.
Barely.
The strike was not aimed at him, but even so, the shock and the aftermath still slammed him. He rode the violence of the sea like a leaf in a storm.
Mihawk turned his head and saw the trench carved by that sword aura.
A gulf in the ocean, vast and clean, the cut so deep it made the sea look fragile.
A cold breath left his chest.
If he had been even a little slower, he would not be standing here.
Yet once the fear faded, excitement poured in.
Mihawk had been stuck lately. A bottleneck he could not crack, no matter how many times he refined his technique.
That was part of why he had left his place and wandered the seas. He wanted to find something that could force him through the wall.
And now he had.
Just being grazed by that sword aura had loosened something inside his sword realm. He could feel it. A seam had opened.
A new direction.
Deeper sword aura.
His heart beat faster, and he steered toward the source with growing intent, wanting to see who could release such a thing.
And if the person truly existed…
Then he wanted to challenge them.
A great swordsman did not walk away from a blade like that.
...
Mihawk advanced, eyes scanning the sea.
When the ship entered his vision, his gaze locked.
Instinct told him the owner of that terrifying sword aura was on that ship.
He had already searched with Observation Haki. There was only this one vessel nearby.
And the way the towering waves mysteriously lost force as they neared the ship only strengthened his certainty.
So he came straight toward it.
He did not bother dodging the water falling from above anymore. His clothes were already wet, and his mind was full of sword.
Appearance could wait.
What mattered was the blade.