Over the next few days, Ortoren remained on Liqueur Island, hoping to catch sight of the legendary Zunesha when it passed by.
Apparently, news of Zou possibly appearing near the island had drawn growing crowds. Ortoren could clearly feel that the number of people on the island was increasing by the day.
Given how elusive Zunesha was—even with its massive size, it was like a leaf adrift on the sea of the New World—the chances of a chance encounter were incredibly slim. Many veteran adventurers and Great Pirates had roamed the New World for years without ever seeing it once.
This time, after many years, Zunesha had finally been spotted again by reporters from the World News, and its location was published in the paper.
Thinking about it, it was no surprise people were flocking here to catch a glimpse—and wasn't he, Ortoren, one of them?
As more people poured into Liqueur Island, the town—once devastated by pirate raids—began to show signs of life again, gradually regaining some of its former prosperity.
That's the way of the New World. Whether people or towns, those that survive in this sea always carry an unexpected vitality.
Early one morning, Ortoren was having breakfast in the inn's dining hall. With a bun in his mouth and just about to pour himself a cup of the island's signature milk tea, he overheard a conversation from the nearby tables.
"Did you hear? The Tenkairyū dojo got challenged last night!"
"Tenkairyū?"
"You must be new here. Tenkairyū is a local kendo school. But the dojo master—you've definitely heard of him. The legendary swordsman Holton, said to split the sea with a single slash!"
"You mean the one Shiki, the Golden Lion, supposedly exempted from paying taxes on Liqueur Island because of his swordsmanship?"
"Yeah, that's him!"
"But isn't this island under the Big Mom Pirates now? When they took over, why didn't Holton do anything?"
"What for? That's the New World for you. One day it's Shiki's territory, the next it's Big Mom's, and in a few days it could be Whitebeard's. If Holton stood up every time, even he wouldn't last!"
"Huh... you're right. So, who challenged him?"
"Some sword prodigy who showed up just last year. Mihawk, I think? He wasn't well known before, but from last year to this year, he's taken down six renowned swordsmen in a row. And he's been bragging about becoming the world's greatest swordsman. Not sure how true the rumors are though."
"I've heard of him! They call him Hawk Eyes. He's said to have eyes like a hawk—razor sharp—and can unleash sword energy with a glance. Anyone he glares at just drops dead!"
"Yeah, that's him. They even say he can fly with his sword and behead someone from a thousand miles away!"
As the conversation veered into the ridiculous, Ortoren lost interest.
"Mihawk is on this island too?" he thought, slightly surprised.
He finished the bun in one bite, downed the milk tea in a single gulp, stood up, and walked out of the restaurant.
Ortoren had passed by the Tenkairyū dojo during one of his strolls around the island, but since he wasn't into swordsmanship—preferring the massive war hammer on his back—he hadn't paid much attention to it.
He didn't expect that such a renowned swordsman lived on this island. But this Holton guy was just unlucky... to run into Mihawk.
Now, Mihawk—that was someone Ortoren was genuinely interested in. After all, this was the man who would eventually rise to become the world's greatest swordsman.
From the rumors going around, it seemed Mihawk had only made his debut in the last couple of years, sharpening his swordsmanship through relentless challenges against established masters, steadily climbing toward the peak.
If memory served, the Marines had even placed a bounty on him at some point, calling him a "Marine Hunter" or something like that?
Judging from what he was doing now, that reputation probably came from constantly challenging swordsmen within the Marine ranks. Eventually, the Navy must've branded him a troublemaking pirate and issued a bounty.
The Tenkairyū dojo wasn't tucked away in some remote spot—it was right in the center of town. Given the dojo master's fame, it made sense he had the wealth to operate such a place.
Ortoren left the inn, planning to check out the commotion. Just as he passed through Market Street, a loud rumble echoed in the distance. Thanks to his height, he looked over the crowd and saw the towering building of the Tenkairyū dojo split clean in half by a single slash, crashing down within its grounds.
A violent sword slash then burst skyward. Panic erupted in the crowd, with people screaming and fleeing. Ortoren even spotted a few unlucky bystanders cut down on the spot by the stray sword aura spilling out from the dojo.
In that moment, Ortoren began to understand how someone like Mihawk—holed up alone on a remote island, living in a ghostly castle with only monkeys for company—ended up being seen by the world as a ruthless pirate.
The duel between swordmasters had erupted suddenly and ended just as fast. Ortoren hadn't even gotten close when the dojo doors were blown apart, and a blood-soaked figure, one arm clearly severed, stumbled out in a miserable state.
Then, a young man with sharp black hair and hawk-like eyes stepped through the shattered entrance.
He walked forward while flicking the blood off his massive black sword, Yoru, and glanced coldly at the one-armed Holton in the distance.
"With skills like yours, how could Shiki ever have seen anything in you?"
"Bastard..." Holton growled, clutching his severed arm, glaring at Mihawk with hatred.
But Mihawk had clearly lost all interest. He didn't even spare Holton another glance. It looked like he had no intention of finishing him off—he simply slung Yoru onto his back and turned to leave.
And as he turned, he caught sight of Ortoren standing nearby, clearly watching the scene.
"Another warrior?" Mihawk's eyes lit up. Who knew what clue had tipped him off, but he seemed intrigued.
Ortoren blinked, then laughed. "I'm no swordsman."
"Does it matter? The way of the sword is not so narrow. Blades can be honed—so can hammers," Mihawk replied without hesitation.
Now Ortoren understood why Mihawk was always alone in the stories, with hardly any friends except Shanks. With a personality like that, he must've rubbed a lot of people the wrong way in his youth.
Just as Ortoren was about to respond, a commotion came from the opposite end of the street.
"Hurry up, Buggy! If we're any later, we'll miss the show!"
"Idiot! If you want to go, go by yourself! Why are you dragging me along? I'm not interested!"
"It's a sword duel! Aren't you even a little curious? I might learn something..."
Just as the voice faded, a red-haired brat in a straw hat rounded the corner, tugging along a big red nose.
There was no doubt—that was Shanks and Buggy.
Despite the friendship he would one day share with Mihawk, Shanks was actually four years younger. At this point, Mihawk already radiated the sharp aura of a rising swordmaster, while Shanks—whether from youth or underdevelopment—still looked like a scrappy kid without a shred of gravitas.
From this point in time, you could sense Mihawk's future as the world's strongest swordsman... but as for Shanks? There was no hint yet that he'd one day stand shoulder to shoulder with Kaidou, Charlotte Linlin, or Whitebeard as one of the Yonkō.
Ortoren spotted Shanks, and Shanks, recognizing Ortoren, froze in place.
Two seconds later, Shanks yelled, "It's that monster!"
"You're the damn monster!" Ortoren snapped back, instantly ticked off. Add in the unprovoked beating he'd taken on Whole Cake Island, and the grudge flared hot. Without another word, he pulled the war hammer from his back and charged straight at Shanks.
Shanks had already fought Ortoren once and ended up with a broken arm. The injury had only just healed a couple days ago, and he knew he stood no chance.
With a yelp, he grabbed Buggy and bolted.
...
(50 Chapters Ahead)
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