Upon discovering that there was truly no ship doctor aboard, Mihawk felt a rare sense of relief—thankfully, it was only external injuries. If it had been internal wounds, he might have been left with lasting damage.
If he were to learn that the Chris was manned by "professional" chefs who'd only been picked up at sea a little over ten days ago, one could only imagine how he'd react.
"Let's get Mihawk bandaged up first. He's a guest—no need to make people think I'm some unreasonable brute," Weiss said.
If he weren't unsure how Karina would handle the treatment, Weiss wouldn't have even offered.
Sure enough, seeing Mihawk—the man who didn't even flinch after taking several sword slashes to the shoulder—clench his fist during Karina's stitching made Weiss feel very vindicated.
Karina seemed to notice Mihawk's discomfort too. She quickly apologized, "Sorry! It's my first time stitching a wound... I forgot the anesthetic!"
Jack and Theodore immediately turned their heads to stifle their laughter. Only Karina, it seemed, could humble the world's greatest swordsman like this.
Joanne, on the other hand, clearly hadn't realized what was so funny.
Hearing this, Mihawk looked toward Weiss, his expression saying, Should we fight again? Preferably right here on this ship.
Fifteen minutes later, his shoulder was finally wrapped in clean bandages. Thankfully, Karina had proven capable enough—not a single weird shape or ugly knot.
…
…
Karina walked toward Weiss, who leaned close and whispered in her ear, "You've got some experience now, huh?"
She gave Mihawk a quick glance, and seeing that he hadn't noticed, gave Weiss a subtle nod.
Relieved, Weiss offered up his own wound for treatment.
Unbeknownst to him, Mihawk clenched his fist again nearby, mentally chanting to himself:
"He's a pure swordsman..."
"He's young, he's talented..."
"He might surpass me one day..."
"That'd be interesting, wouldn't it?"
"I cannot kill him. I must not kill him!"
Deep breath...
…
"Huh? Mihawk, why'd you sigh? Are you hungry?" Weiss teased. "Joanne, go prep breakfast. Jack, get that special bottle of wine from the kitchen—we'll use it as a breakfast aperitif!"
Hearing that, Mihawk took another deep breath and turned his head away. He didn't dare look at Weiss, afraid he might snap.
All of this… was clearly intentional on Weiss's part.
Who asked this so-called swordsman to keep showing up uninvited, asking for 'sparring'? Sparring? What kind of sparring leaves you covered in injuries?
Sure, Weiss did want to spar with the world's greatest swordsman.
But it had to be his idea!
Initiating a duel versus being dragged into one—they felt very different.
Soon, Jack brought out the wine and placed it in front of Weiss. Thanks to Karina's newfound experience, his wounds were now properly dressed too.
After sobering up a bit, Weiss poured Mihawk a glass.
Mihawk took it without hesitation, drank, and frowned. This wine… it was better than yesterday's.
If Weiss knew what Mihawk was thinking, he'd probably curse him out.
Yesterday you came here to fight. What if you'd lost control and sliced someone? You think I'd serve you the good stuff then?
Today was different—they'd sparred, both sides were satisfied. Of course, he'd bring out better wine.
And so, the Chris sailed steadily forward across the open sea.
Meanwhile, what was Theodore up to?
In the helm room, a whole row of Den Den Mushi (Transponder Snails) was set up in front of him—each one diligently working.
Why so many? Simple: the family's rich.
There was a video snail, a photography snail, an editing snail, even a fax snail!
Unintentionally, Weiss had achieved one of his goals before even setting out to sea—just by taking in Theodore.
The video snail replayed battle footage from last night through the morning. These creatures truly were magical—despite the chaos, they captured everything in vivid detail:
An island filled with sword auras, beasts fleeing in terror, crimson lotus flames, massive flying sword slashes stretching for dozens of meters, a wounded Weiss and Mihawk, a thunderstorm-lit sky, and finally—the island beneath their feet vanishing entirely.
Every moment had been captured.
The footage was now being sent to the editing snail, which snipped clips and converted frames into still images for the fax snail.
Far away, on Flying Bird Island, Slenka received the photos and transcripts—and immediately contacted that old bird Morgans.
This time, Morgans didn't even demand more money from the Carmeline family.
Getting first-hand news about the Sword Demon? They were lucky he wasn't charging extra!
As the Chris crew sat down for breakfast, a storm of rumors had already erupted across the world:
"Sword Demon and the World's Greatest Swordsman Duel on a Nameless Island!"
Good grief. To grab attention, they even called the sparring a duel!
But in these quiet times, the news exploded. The entire sea boiled over.
A rising sword master versus the top swordsman in the world—how could people not be curious about the outcome?
"Are they monsters? They destroyed an entire island?!"
That was the reaction from most regular pirates—who, needless to say, now had zero desire to provoke Weiss.
Elsewhere in the New World, Red-Haired Shanks was laughing wildly after reading the headline.
"Hahaha! That idiot Mihawk actually got hurt? Don't tell me he's gonna end up like me—missing an arm!"
"Captain, don't be stupid," Lucky Roux said while chewing on a drumstick. "That's clearly just a flesh wound. You really want him to lose an arm that badly?"
"He really is terrifyingly talented, though," said Benn Beckman, exhaling smoke. "He's only eighteen. Wonder who trained him..."
On Whitebeard's ship, Ace was joyfully downing drinks—but deep down, he was worried. At this rate, Weiss would be in the New World very soon…
Meanwhile, in the Navy Headquarters, Sengoku—still on break—held the newspaper in his hands. He stared at the images of the two wounded men.
From the Navy's perspective, it was clear Weiss had lost the fight.
But so what?
If he could push Mihawk this far now… what about in the future?
For months, Sengoku had been investigating Weiss, determined to uncover who his teacher really was. If it really was Golden Lion...
After years in hiding, Golden Lion raising a monster of a disciple could truly bring chaos to the sea.
Back on the Chris, it was already noon by the time breakfast ended.
Jack had spent all his energy repairing the mast of Mihawk's tiny coffin-boat. Having eaten, drunk, and fought enough, Mihawk was ready to leave. He leapt onto his odd little vessel.
"Let's call it a draw for now," he said. "Next time, I'll be waiting for you to take my title."
"No need," Weiss replied firmly. "A loss is a loss. If I can't face that, how could I ever reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship?"
Mihawk nodded in approval. He respected those words.
Regardless of what the world said—whether they claimed it was a draw or that Mihawk had lost—none of it mattered to the two of them.
"Kadun, next stop: Sabaody Archipelago! Let's move!" Weiss shouted, watching Mihawk drift away with the tide.
And Mihawk?
He floated silently across the sea in his coffin-boat.
Who knows which lucky soul might cross paths with him next?