"Your swordsmanship is remarkable, but your speed and explosive power are far too immature."
Garp's eyes were as sharp as ever.
Creed didn't deny it. After all, his explosive strength and raw power came from an ordinary cheetah and a gorilla—good, but far from the top tier.
It wasn't a big problem, though. The Marines had a complete training method for improving physical ability in all aspects—Rokushiki (Six Powers).
Once he reached Marine Headquarters, he could extract it.
"Old man, I'm going to rest."
Creed nodded toward Garp.
That last strike had drained a lot of his stamina, but more importantly, he was eager to see what the purple treasure chest from the Sea King would give him.
Garp watched Creed's departing back, eyes flashing. Truly an unexpected joy—he had underestimated his grandson's talent with the sword.
After training at Marine Headquarters, perhaps in the near future, the title of World's Greatest Swordsman might change hands.
…
Back in the cabin.
Creed sat on the bed and exhaled. So that was the power of a true top-tier fighter—it was terrifying.
If such a fighter went all out, they could probably wipe out an entire country with ease.
He hungered for power now more than ever.
Only power could allow him to stand firm in this dangerous world.
"Open the chest."
Creed stared at the purple treasure chest in his system interface and spoke directly.
"Opening purple chest…"
"Ding! Congratulations! You have obtained a Supreme Grade Blade—Rinne."
…
As soon as the system's voice faded, a sword appeared before him.
Its hilt was a deep purple, engraved with intricate carvings. On either side of the hilt's center was a hollow circle—half white, half black—resembling a yin-yang symbol.
Below the hilt, the black-and-white tsuba locked into a plain wooden scabbard, ancient in design.
The entire sword exuded an extraordinary air.
When Creed's fingertips touched it, his sword intent erupted in excitement.
Shing—!
The blade slid free with a resonant hum. A deep, night-like black gleam flared from its surface, and in that instant, the very air in the room grew sharp and biting.
Purple hilt, black-and-white guard, and a blade as dark as midnight—
At first glance, it seemed simple and plain. Look longer, and its profound nature became undeniable.
A Supreme Grade Blade—Rinne!!
Named swords in the world were ranked: 50 Skillful Grade Blades, 21 Great Grade Blades, and 12 Supreme Grade Blades.
Every swordsman dreamed of owning one.
The World's Greatest Swordsman, Mihawk, wielded Yoru, a Supreme Grade Black Blade.
Creed's heart leapt—he had never expected to draw a Supreme Grade Blade from a purple chest.
For a swordsman, a blade was vital.
An ordinary sword couldn't withstand the pressure of true sword intent. Just like when he'd fought Garp earlier, his blade had shattered after a single full-power slash.
He'd been worrying about finding a suitable weapon—maybe even asking Garp to get him a Skillful Grade Blade from the Marines.
And now, fate had delivered a far greater gift.
A Supreme Grade Blade—Rinne—one never seen in the original story!
—
Creed gripped Rinne.
Buzz~~
The air in the room turned violently sharp, almost chaotic.
The blade trembled intensely, as if trying to break free from his grasp.
A famed sword had its own will—if one wanted to wield it, one had to be acknowledged by it.
If an ordinary person tried to use a Supreme Grade Blade, the sword's will alone could destroy their mind, turning them into a bloodthirsty madman.
That was the truth behind many so-called "cursed blades."
It wasn't the blade that was cursed—it was the wielder who lacked the strength to match it.
Creed's eyes narrowed, sharp as the edge itself. His entire sword intent poured into Rinne, meeting its will head-on.
Their clash whipped up a violent wind inside the cabin, leaving the place in shambles.
Buzz, buzz, buzz—
Rinne's trembling grew fiercer, the struggle more intense.
Shhh, shhh, shhh—
The air itself seemed to turn into sword energy, carving deep gouges into the walls.
"Rinne, I'm only twelve years old. Will you follow me? In the future, I'll make your name echo across the seas and take the top throne," Creed said, his gaze blazing. It was both a vow to himself and a promise to the blade.
Shhh!
Rinne's aura exploded even more violently.
Creed's eyes blazed brighter, his sword intent surging to meet it.
Their wills clashed, the sound of clashing steel seeming to ring in the air.
Minutes passed—
Buzz—!
Rinne gave a final shudder, then fell silent.
Creed smiled. The blade had accepted him.
…
Two months passed quietly.
Standing on the deck, Creed looked ahead at a massive, imposing complex of buildings. On the huge walls was the emblem of a seagull.
After two months of sailing, Marine Headquarters was finally in sight.
Garp led Creed down the ship toward the base.
At the same time, in the second half of the Grand Line—the fearsome New World—where powerful fighters were as common as sand, and even a random stone could hit a pirate worth over 100 million berries…
Aboard the Red-Haired Pirates' ship—
Shanks, lounging in his chair, suddenly opened his eyes, stood up, and looked toward the calm sea ahead. Grinning, he said, "Pass the word—we're holding a banquet today. We've got a friend coming!!"
A friend?
The crew looked puzzled.
And then—
From the calm horizon, a small boat cut through the sea like a peerless blade, speeding toward the Red-Haired Pirates' ship.
…
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [www.P@treon.com/Draumel]