Chapter 118 - C118

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There were no sword auras clashing and shaking the heavens, nor did ten thousand blades rise to bow before a king. If it were written like that, it would be a xianxia novel, not One Piece.

In the world of pirates, the power of every blade or sword comes from the user themselves.

If you're just a three-year-old child, even if someone handed you a Supreme Grade Great Sword, you might not even be able to cut through steel. But if you're strong enough—like Weiss—even a broken sword is enough to battle the likes of Kaido.

Don't believe it? Did Weiss ever even bother naming his first two swords?

One is a 1.3-meter double-edged sword, the other a 1.5-meter single-edged sword. And now… a steel whip.

These are the final three weapons.

Some people wanted to compare their weapons to these three, but the moment they glanced down at what they held, that thought immediately vanished. A true expert only needs a glance to understand the situation.

Better not embarrass yourself in public.

"Who do you think will win the championship with one of these three weapons?" The crowd buzzed again today, just like before.

Everyone was eager to know who the winner would be, and what quality of weapon would be crowned champion.

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"I don't know. We haven't seen them up close, how could we tell?" someone said dismissively.

"You think you can judge it just by looking?"

"I can't, can you?"

"Of course not. That's why we have the ten judges. What, you think they've been sitting up there all these days just watching a play?"

The crowd murmured and debated, all focused on the same question.

Jack looked disappointed—he had his eye on a particular gun, but it seemed to have vanished. He'd guarded it several times, but due to various delays, he missed his chance.

What he didn't know was that Weiss had already bought that gun. Jack hadn't returned to the ship in days.

"Let's check out the whip first," Enri suggested, breaking the silence.

At those words, Eriksen knew his chances of winning were slim. They were starting with the weakest—no one begins with the best.

The ten judges took turns examining the whip, which was about three meters long. Unlike a rope whip, it was entirely forged from metal and felt extremely heavy in hand. It was made up of flexible iron segments, each about the length of a finger.

Once everyone had touched and tested it, the whip was placed on the stage.

"So, what do you think? Could this whip be the champion weapon?" one pirate asked nervously. Since someone dared to present such a strange weapon, surely they had confidence in it—so he'd placed a bet.

"Champion? No way. It has to be Phoenix's sword."

Were they supporting their idol? Or hoping to witness the birth of a legendary weapon?

Nope. They were just betting.

Everyone wanted their wager to win the championship—that was how they'd walk away with big money.

The ten judges remained silent, but each had already formed a judgment in their hearts. They then turned to the two remaining swords.

This time, they didn't examine them all together. Each judge picked up the sword that had caught their attention. Some took Zeke's blade; others chose Phoenix's.

Zeke's sword looked slender and lightweight, but when lifted, it was unexpectedly heavy—even heavier than the metal whip.

That was by Weiss's request—it matched his strength.

The blade was a dark black, the surface retaining features of the original forging stone, resembling a starry night sky. Tiny specks sparkled like distant stars, drawing the eye into a dreamy illusion.

The faint cold gleam of the blade was sharp enough that when a judge accidentally touched the edge, a thin line of blood appeared. Its sharpness was undeniable.

Phoenix's sword, on the other hand, was a more traditional single-edged blade, the kind commonly seen on the seas—somewhat resembling a mōdāo.

In fact, Japanese swords were originally inspired by the mōdāo.

Its spine was thick, the tip had a slight upward curve, and the blade's surface was covered in tiny dents and hammer marks.

But when touched, it was smooth as glass—as if the dents weren't real at all.

The judges then swapped swords for cross-examination.

When Enri touched Zeke's sword, his expression subtly changed. Clearly, no one around him noticed.

"What do you think of your sword?" Weiss asked Zeke, standing beside him. He didn't seem worried about the outcome at all.

"Even before I finished forging it, I was already confident. But after seeing the weapons made by the others…"

"You lost confidence?"

"No, I became even more confident."

"…You really had to pause like that?"

Looks like that dramatic speech pattern runs in the family. Old man Fedrei didn't talk like that, though… maybe it's just a generational quirk?

Whether or not this sword wins the championship, Weiss felt it suited him perfectly. That was the intuition of a true warrior.

And Weiss always trusted his instincts.

"Are those ten old guys even any good? Judging quality just by looking? Why don't they actually test them? What if Forge Star Island is just hyping up junk?"

The pirate who blurted that out didn't notice people quietly backing away from him—or some slowly gathering around him.

"What did you just say?"

"I said, aren't they unreliable? They're just looking, not even testing!" The pirate suddenly realized something was off. The air around him had shifted.

Before he could react, a fist connected with his face.

No one was surprised. Of all the people to criticize, why would you go after the ten old masters? Didn't he know that nearly 90% of the island's blacksmiths were trained by those very same ten?

Almost the entire island was filled with their disciples. Speaking like that and not getting punched would've been a miracle.

That's also why those ten elders could simply observe and touch a weapon to judge its quality—and no one dared question it.

Back on the stage, the ten judges laid all three weapons out on the table and began a quiet discussion.

Enri suddenly spoke. "Looks like each of us already has a winner in mind?"

The other nine nodded in agreement.

"Then let's write our choice on our palms and reveal it together?" Enri proposed.

"Agreed."

The scene fell into silence as everyone waited anxiously for the final verdict. Some had staked everything on their bets.

A minute passed...

Seeing that everyone had clenched their fists, Enri said, "Alright, if you're ready—reveal them!"

Everyone in the crowd craned their necks, eager to see which name would appear in the hands of the judges.

"Zeke!"

"Zeke!"

"Zeke!"

Every judge had written the same name—Zeke.

Phoenix looked unhappy, but said nothing. Instead, he picked up the sword Zeke had made—and the moment he held it, his heart sank. With a wry smile, he gently put it back down.

"Phoenix, do you have any objections?" Enri asked calmly, not interrupting Phoenix's actions.

"No objections. His weapon is better than mine."

"Then I'll make it official."

Enri took the mic from the host and announced without further ceremony:

"This competition's champion is Peck Zeke!"

"Weapon Quality…"

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