Ashveil's lips curved into a faint smile. Against a man like Dracule Mihawk, the only language worth speaking was victory.
The battlefield finally quieted, the trembling ground settling as Ashveil withdrew the Conqueror's Haki shield that had been protecting Urouge.
Urouge remained frozen, his throat tight as he swallowed hard. His lips quivered as he struggled to form words.
"Is this… the true battle between the world's greatest swordsmen?"
All around them, the island bore witness to destruction. Cracks split across the land like jagged scars, the once-lush forest stripped bare until only shattered stumps remained.
The most terrifying of all was Ashveil's slash—one so overwhelming it had cleaved the island itself apart.
Urouge's chest heaved with disbelief. Such strength… only gods could wield such a realm of power.
The man before him—Thorne Ashveil—he must be divine reborn.
As Urouge stared at him with awe, Ashveil's smile lingered. His gaze shifted to the glowing panel only he could see.
[Congratulations, Host, for defeating the World's Greatest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk!]
[Reward: 400 Conqueror's Haki Points!]
[Upgrade Tremor-Tremor Fruit: Advanced!]
[Upgrade Ice-Ice Fruit: Advanced!]
Host: Thorne Ashveil
Conqueror's Haki Points: 6,806
Devil Fruit Abilities: Tremor-Tremor Fruit (Advanced), Magma-Magma Fruit(Advanced), Search Ability (Intermediate), Flash Ability (Advanced), Ice-Ice Fruit (Advanced), Appearance Ability (Intermediate)
Additional Fruits: Tanuki Fruit, Three Artificial Fruits, Hyena Fruit
Skills: Flash (100m), Conqueror's Haki Passive Shield, Shinra Tensei (Self-Created)
Items: Healing Potion, Ham, Burger, Cola, Red Wine, Turkey, Salad…
His power had risen yet again.
His Conqueror's Haki neared seven thousand points, the Tremor-Tremor Fruit had ascended to its peak form, and even the abilities once belonging to the three Admirals had all reached advanced stages.
Ashveil chuckled to himself. Now… he was even stronger.
Turning toward Mihawk, Ashveil's grin widened. "Mihawk, enough of the formalities. Do you have wine and food? I'm starving."
For a moment, Mihawk's golden eyes flickered with surprise. Then, to Urouge's shock, the World's Greatest Swordsman actually smiled.
"Fortunately, my castle lies far from here. The protective wards kept it safe. Inside, I have excellent red wine."
Ashveil's eyes gleamed. "Perfect. I'm looking forward to tasting it. And perhaps… discussing swordsmanship with Mihawk-san."
The words made Mihawk's gaze sharpen. The thrill of swordsmanship flickered across his face like fire.
Inside Mihawk's gothic castle, they sat across from each other, red wine in hand. For a moment, silence lingered between them. Then, as the flames crackled in the hearth, Ashveil began to speak.
A transmigrator like him had no true knowledge of swordsmanship, but that hardly mattered. He wove tales of sword legends from animes from his past life.
Each phrase he delivered with deliberate gravity, as though unveiling secrets hidden from the world.
To Ashveil, it was nonsense. To Mihawk, it was revelation.
The hawk-eyed swordsman leaned forward, pupils shimmering with excitement, as though every word Ashveil spoke carved a new path in his mind.
Across the room, Urouge strained to listen but found the conversation utterly incomprehensible. It was like hearing a divine scripture written in a language he could not grasp. His spirit faltered, crushed by the gulf between himself and true greatness.
Hidden in the shadows, Perona peeked from behind a door. Her jaw nearly dropped.
Mihawk—the man who usually carried himself with aloof indifference—was now hanging on every word of a younger man?
This arrogant swordsman, humbling himself to listen so intently?
Her gaze flicked back to Ashveil, realization dawning. Was the devastating tremor that split the island… truly his doing?
If so, then this man's power was not simply comparable to Mihawk's. It was something beyond, something monstrous.
Ashveil swirled his wine glass, smirking faintly. "Mihawk, do you understand now? The heart of swordsmanship lies here—" he tapped his temple.
"No moves surpasses every move. No blade surpasses pure intent. To master the sword is to abandon the sword."
"The highest realm of swordsmanship is no longer technique. It is Dao itself."
Mihawk's eyes burned with radiant light. His long-standing stagnation crumbled beneath Ashveil's words, his path forward illuminated once more.
He spoke with rare intensity. "You're right. True swordsmen who impart their secrets without reservation… they're rarer than the purest gem."
Ashveil gave a nonchalant shrug, though inside he was grinning. His bluff had worked perfectly. The wuxia novels of his past life had become gospel in this world.
"It's nothing," he said smoothly. "I only came here to win you over. Sharing a few insights costs me nothing."
Mihawk rose from his chair, serious now. He reached into his coat and produced a document. The Marine's summons.
Ashveil's eyes narrowed as he accepted it. The Marines were gathering all their strength for the upcoming war. Unlike Jinbe, Mihawk's summons was not marked "mandatory." The World Government's tone was cautious, even pleading. Mihawk was too powerful, too independent. They could not command him—they could only ask.
"Should I accept this?" Mihawk asked, his voice low.
Ashveil twirled the wine glass in his hand, crimson liquid catching the firelight. His smirk returned.
"Of course, accept it. Wouldn't it be far more exciting to betray them at the very height of the war?"
The image flashed in his mind: Sengoku's face contorted with rage as the Shichibukai turned on the Marines in the middle of the Summit War.
Mihawk's lips curved ever so slightly. Betrayal at the war's climax… it would indeed be far more thrilling.
Ashveil had given him a glimpse of swordsmanship beyond imagination. For that alone, Mihawk would fight the whole world if necessary.
The seas, Mihawk thought as he studied Ashveil, were about to become far more interesting.
---
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