"Yes, that's him!" Shanks said without hesitation.
He didn't feel the slightest bit embarrassed. He was a pirate—running when Marines showed up was only natural.
As Yasopp hurriedly packed, he muttered, "There's so many of us. You mean to say we can't take down just one man?"
Beckman, also gathering his things, cut in, "Better to trust Shanks. He's crossed paths with that man—we haven't. And Shanks knows exactly what we're capable of. If even with that knowledge he makes this call, then he's right."
"Less talk, more running! If he spots us, we won't have a chance to escape. I'm not about to waste my life figuring out how to break you all out of Impel Down later!" Shanks grabbed his pack and bolted down the mountain, his crew scrambling after him.
Of course, he had one thing wrong. If Ortoren caught them, they wouldn't be going to Impel Down—they'd be shipped straight into the Calm Belt.
The Red-Haired Pirates rushed downhill, hoping to slip past Ortoren. But as soon as they reached the edge of town, they spotted a man standing in the road with a map in hand, looking like he was searching for something.
He wore a noble's top hat, a massive cross-shaped blade strapped to his back. His sharp, hawk-like eyes glinted dangerously, and the sheer pressure of his sword aura kept everyone at a distance. No one dared approach him.
This was none other than the island's third pirate with a bounty over 100 million—besides Shanks and Moria—Dracule Mihawk, the man climbing toward the title of the world's greatest swordsman.
The sound of movement caught Mihawk's attention. He lifted his head, and the moment his gaze landed on Shanks, his eyes lit with blazing fighting spirit. From across the way, his voice rang out like a blade itself:
"Red-Hair! I've finally found you again!"
Shanks turned at the shout, saw Mihawk, and his face went pale. "Not here! Benn Ortoren's on this island. We can fight somewhere else—"
But before he could finish, Mihawk was already drawing the Black Blade Yoru from his back. He swung down in a single, merciless slash, the air itself splitting as the strike roared toward Shanks.
"Damn it!" Shanks cursed, raging at Mihawk in his mind. Can't this guy read the damn room?
With no choice, he tore the Meito Gryphon from his waist and met the strike head-on, shouting, "Kamusari!"
In a flash, their slashes collided, the impact exploding into a storm of cutting winds as the two sword masters clashed.
...
On the far side of town, Ortoren felt the disturbance. He glanced toward the surge of sword aura with mild surprise. "Oh? A strong fighter?"
A heartbeat later, his Observation Haki spread across the entire island like a tidal wave. A wide grin spread across his face. "Ahahahahaha! What a coincidence."
Lightning crackled over his body, sparks bursting in the air. With a sharp crack, he vanished, leaving only empty ground behind.
Vergo blinked at the spot, scratching his head in utter confusion. "What the hell...?"
Nor was he the only one baffled. In a restaurant across town, Moria sat waiting, stunned. He'd just seen Ortoren about to step through the door—then poof, gone.
Wasn't he supposed to be here to discuss becoming a Shichibukai? Then who the hell was fighting on the island right now?
On the other side, Shanks and Mihawk's blades clashed, ringing out as the two exchanged over a dozen blows in mere moments. Neither could break through the other's guard. Blocking Mihawk's slash, Shanks cursed, "Hawk Eyes, you idiot! I told you, Ortoren is on the island!"
"Who's on the island? What does it matter?" Mihawk's eyes gleamed with excitement as he ignored Shanks completely. Ortoren? Who cares! He was fired up now—even Admiral Sengoku couldn't stop him!
Clang! Clang! The blades collided again and again. Shanks glanced back and saw Beckman, Yasopp, and the rest of his crew already disappearing from view.
That set him off. "You heartless bastards! I'm the captain—shouldn't I be the first one to escape!?"
"The captain covering our rear is the rule. We'll get the ship ready—hurry up and catch up, Shanks!" Beckman shouted without looking back.
Loyalty? Nonexistent!
Of course, it was just banter. Shanks knew Mihawk, that sword-obsessed lunatic, was locked on him. Beckman and the others staying would only be a burden. Preparing the ship to pick him up at any moment was the right call—no problem there.
As Shanks and Mihawk clashed again, both suddenly sensed a threat. Their eyes met, and without a word they broke off at once.
In that instant, a bolt of lightning exploded above them. From the blinding flash, Ortoren's figure emerged, his warhammer wreathed in violent wind pressure as he brought it crashing down!
Neither Shanks nor Mihawk tried to take the blow head-on. They pushed off the ground and retreated at blazing speed.
The next moment, Ortoren's hammer slammed into the spot they had just vacated. Thunder and light burst outward like a surging tide, the ground trembling as nearby houses shattered to rubble. The surface cracked apart, a crater over ten meters wide gouged into the earth. Spiderweb fractures spread out instantly, covering a hundred-meter radius.
His strike having missed, Ortoren wasn't discouraged. He wrenched the hammer free, slung it over his shoulder, and laughed loudly. "Ahahaha! Long time no see, you two bastards!"
Shanks immediately raised his free hand. "Hey, hey! I've never messed with you G-5 guys! Cut me some slack—I'll leave right now!"
But before he finished, Ortoren vanished, leaving only a crackle of lightning in the air.
Shanks' expression hardened. Kicking off the ground, his Haki burst forth, coating his arm and the Meito Gryphon in jet black as he raised them to block in front of him.
The next instant, a warhammer whistled out of thin air, crackling with sparks of lightning as it smashed hard against Shanks' blade. That familiar sensation stirred Shanks' memories once again!
Even though he was no longer the apprentice sailor of the past, even though his strength had grown formidable, he still couldn't withstand such overwhelming force! The ground beneath his feet shattered instantly, debris blasting out like cannonballs, ripping through the air with thunderous booms as they scattered behind him.
But Shanks was far more seasoned now. He had no intention of taking the hammer strike head-on. Using the momentum coursing through the clash, he let the force fling him backward, soaring into the air as if Ortoren had knocked him flying. In the blink of an eye, he was sent over a hundred meters away.
When he landed, Shanks felt his arm go numb, his sword nearly slipping from his grip.
"That guy… still such a monster?" he thought helplessly.
He prided himself on how much he'd improved these past years, but clearly, he still wasn't a match for that beast!
His thoughts raced, though in reality it was only a heartbeat. As soon as he touched the ground, Shanks rolled several times, dispersing the impact before scrambling up. Without so much as a single word, he turned and bolted!
At the same time, while Ortoren had just knocked Shanks away, Mihawk stubbornly pressed the attack. His black blade, Yoru, carved a slash straight at Ortoren's back.
Ortoren didn't bother dodging. With the hammer in one hand, his other arm flared with dense Armament Haki as he raised it behind him in a guard. Mihawk's slash struck the arm a moment later. The hardened Haki withstood it for only an instant before being cut through, and Ortoren felt a sting of pain.
Without hesitation, he flung his arm outward, forcibly redirecting the slash to his side as casually as swatting away flying trash.
He lifted his arm to inspect it. A shallow cut, about a centimeter deep—just enough to break the skin, not enough to reach the muscle. Still, Ortoren arched a brow at Mihawk.
"Your slashes are packing more power these days..."
"So I still can't cut you, huh? Looks like my training's not there yet." Mihawk's tone carried no surprise, only mild regret.
Ortoren glanced at the distant Shanks, already vanished from sight, then back at Mihawk. Thinking of Moria, he shook his head.
"Honestly, I just wanted to catch up with him. But the moment he saw me, he bolted. Am I really that scary?"
Mihawk replied evenly, "No idea. Personally, I don't think so. Nothing frightening about you..."
Ortoren had no interest in chasing Shanks. He hefted his warhammer lightly and asked, "Want to keep going?"
Mihawk, ever straightforward, sheathed Yoru.
"No. I don't yet have the strength to cut you. Give me two more years of training, and I'll seek you out..."
"Then we'll stop here..." Ortoren casually planted the warhammer into the ground, then grinned.
"Speaking of which, interested in becoming a Shichibukai? Two hundred billion Belly, and I'll guarantee your spot!"
Mihawk: ???
...
Meanwhile, Shanks boarded the pirate ship already setting sail. Standing on the deck, he looked back at the island, rubbing his arm.
"This time I didn't lose one… proof that my strength really has grown..."
Finding joy in hardship—that was a pirate's essential trait.
...
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