Waters near Water 7.
A lone coffin drifted quietly across the sea.
Seated atop it was a man with short black hair, dressed in a long black coat, beneath which was a wine-red patterned shirt.
The most eye-catching presence, however, was the enormous cross-shaped greatsword on his back—
One of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades:
Black Blade · Yoru.
There was no mistaking his identity.
The world's greatest swordsman.
One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
Dracule "Hawk-Eye" Mihawk.
At the moment, Mihawk sat with one leg crossed over the other, leisurely sipping red wine from a crystal goblet.
Suddenly, his brows drew together slightly.
"Flying slashes?"
Several golden flying sword waves were approaching from afar, cutting straight toward him—
yet before they even drew near, they dissipated completely, vanishing without a trace.
"A swordsman capable of flying slashes… interesting," Mihawk murmured.
"They came from that direction."
His hawk-like eyes narrowed.
"Water 7…"
A sharp glint flashed in his gaze.
Without hesitation, Mihawk shifted direction, steering his coffin-boat toward the source of the slashes—
toward Water 7.
As the world's strongest swordsman, Mihawk never rejected a challenge.
More often than not, he actively sought them out.
And though Karl had swung those slashes out of sheer boredom, they had still caught Mihawk's attention.
Scrap Island
Under Adjutant Nelson's command, the Marines were efficiently cleaning up the battlefield.
Pirate corpses were tossed into the sea, and the stripped pirate ship was dragged away and sunk out of sight.
Afterward, Scrap Island looked exactly as it had before the White Wolf Pirates arrived—
quiet, desolate, and waiting for the next guests: the Flame Pirates.
Then—
"Adjutant Nelson, look! There's a small boat approaching us!"
Nelson frowned and raised his binoculars.
The moment he recognized the figure on the coffin-like vessel, his pupils shrank to pinpoints.
"W-What?!
That's… one of the Seven Warlords! Hawk-Eye Mihawk!"
"The world's greatest swordsman?!"
"That's him. I'll never forget those eyes."
The Marines immediately grew tense, their composure crumbling.
Nelson took a deep breath and pulled out a Den Den Mushi.
Café, Water 7
Karl was sitting with a woman he had just chatted up, the air between them full of laughter and flirtatious glances.
Buru buru—
The Den Den Mushi rang, interrupting the moment.
Karl offered the woman an apologetic smile and answered the call.
"What is it now?"
"Colonel—Mihawk is here!"
"What Hawk?"
"The world's greatest swordsman! Seven Warlords member—Hawk-Eye Mihawk!"
Karl's smile vanished instantly.
Why the hell is he here?!
Great—another boss he absolutely couldn't afford to offend.
Though Mihawk was officially aligned with the World Government as a Warlord, he was infamous for doing whatever he pleased. From a Marine's perspective, he was a completely unrestrained danger.
And honestly?
Karl had zero goodwill toward the Warlords in general.
One looked loyal but was secretly a Revolutionary mole.
Another treated war like a hobby.
Unreliable mercenaries, the lot of them.
Ding!
Detected hostile battle intent from Dracule Mihawk.
Series Mission Triggered: "Don't Fight Your Own People (1/7)"
Warlord Exclusive Mission
As allies, Warlords and Marines should coexist peacefully.
Fighting wastes precious slacking time and hurts relationships.
Objective: Avoid combat with Hawk-Eye Mihawk.
Reward: Black Blade Forging Method
Armament Haki Enhancement Card ×5
Karl froze.
Then his eyes lit up.
That reward is insane! And it's a series mission too?! There are seven Warlords!
He stood up immediately.
"Sorry—duty calls. Let's meet again if fate allows."
"Huh? Leaving already?"
The woman with wine-red hair looked disappointed.
Karl didn't reply. He was already gone.
Scrap Island
Mihawk stepped lightly off his coffin, landing gracefully on the island.
His gaze swept the area—only ordinary Marines.
"No swordsman?"
"Who is in charge here?"
The Marines instinctively turned toward Nelson.
Mihawk's eyes followed.
"You?"
"What happened here?"
Though intimidated, Nelson stood his ground.
"Lord Mihawk, even if you're a Warlord, you don't have authority over Marine operations."
In the next instant—
Yoru's black blade hovered right before Nelson's face.
Mihawk's sharp eyes were calm, almost bored.
"I'll ask again.
What happened here?"
"Just a few pirates died," a voice said calmly.
"Hardly worth drawing a blade over."
Mihawk looked up.
A handsome Marine officer stood not far away, a black bird perched on his shoulder.
"And you are?"
"Marine Headquarters Colonel.
Karl."
Mihawk slowly returned Yoru to his back.
His hawk-like eyes locked onto Karl.
"The flying slashes just now—those were yours."
Karl chuckled softly.
"Sharp as expected of the world's strongest swordsman."
So this is Mihawk's perception… I didn't even have my sword out.
Raven: Gah?
"Then it really was you."
Without warning—
Mihawk drew Yoru and slashed.
A crescent-shaped flying slash tore through the air like a falling star.
Ding!
"Don't Fight Your Own People (1/7)" — Mission Failed.
Karl: ???
WAIT—WHAT?!
There was no time to think.
"DAMN IT!"
Raven instantly transformed into blade form.
Three slashes in rapid succession—!
Karl unleashed three flying slashes, barely canceling Mihawk's attack.
He stood there, breathing heavily, rage simmering.
MIHAWK YOU BASTARD—THIS IS WORSE THAN KILLING ME!!
"Not bad," Mihawk said calmly.
"That sword of yours is interesting."
He had seen it clearly—the black bird on Karl's shoulder transforming into a blade.
It reminded him faintly of the Shodai Kitetsu, though the guard and hilt were entirely different.
Karl stepped forward, Raven in hand.
"Is this a provocation against the Marines, Lord Mihawk?"
"Don't forget—you're a Warlord."
"No," Mihawk replied evenly.
"I merely sensed a swordsman with potential. My interest was piqued."
"Draw your blade."
"Entertain me. Add some color to my dull life."
Since Shanks lost an arm, Mihawk hadn't enjoyed a truly satisfying duel.
His greatsword—
Was starving.
Karl rubbed his temples internally.
You look refined, but your head is made of iron, huh?!
The mission was already lost. Backing down now would only invite contempt.
Karl raised Raven. His left hand brushed along the blade as he spoke coldly:
"This sword is called Raven.
Blade length: four chi seven cun.
Weight: ten jin five liang."
"It cuts iron like mud—
and kills without sound."
Mihawk: ...?
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