The people around were utterly stunned.
Doflamingo's eyes widened, his jaw slack as though he could swallow a fist. "What kind of ability is this? Is it the Ope-Ope no Mi?" he asked in disbelief.
Trebol's snot trembled as he stammered, "No, Doffy, this isn't the Ope-Ope no Mi at all… this is much stronger!"
"The Ope-Ope no Mi's Room needs a medium for instant movement, but Ashveil… he just teleported directly!"
"I can confirm it," Marco said, his voice laced with awe. "Thorne Ashveil didn't move fast—he literally performed spatial displacement!"
The area exploded into noise once again.
"Spatial movement? Did Captain Ashveil eat some kind of spatial fruit?"
"Too terrifying… His defense is already unbreakable, and now he can teleport? That's insane!"
"With this ability combined with his defense, Captain Ashveil is practically untouchable!"
The Whitebeard Pirates erupted in astonished chatter, but Whitebeard himself stood silent, his brow furrowed. Sweat beaded his forehead, unseen by his crew.
He had been close—within a hundred meters of Ashveil's battlefield—and alongside Dracule Mihawk, he had felt the oppressive weight of that Golden Conqueror's Haki. Even Whitebeard, one of the Four Emperors, had to admit it… that Haki was enough to shake even him.
"Terrifying," he muttered beneath his breath.
"It's possible that this spatial ability is connected to his Conqueror's Haki," Whitebeard said aloud, though his tone was uncertain.
"Pops, are you serious?" Marco replied in disbelief. "Spatial abilities and Haki have nothing to do with each other!"
"Maybe not normally," Whitebeard answered, eyes narrowing. "But that golden Conqueror's Haki… it's something else entirely."
The crowd swallowed hard, uneasy under the pressure of what they couldn't fully understand. Even without knowing the theory, one thing was certain: Thorne Ashveil's Haki had reached new, terrifying heights—far beyond what it had been during the Marineford War.
He had already stood near the top of the world, yet he was still growing stronger.
A faint smile tugged at Ashveil's lips. "Mihawk, you're not the only one who's improved."
The truth was clear: Thorne Ashveil had evolved once again—a monster among men.
"Now then," Ashveil said calmly, raising his hand. "Let me show you my strike. Mihawk, don't disturb me after this."
The air trembled as his Conqueror's Haki fused with his Phoenix-like flames, coiling above his head like molten gold.
Whitebeard's eyes widened. "Such intensity… even generating a fraction of that Haki would drain most men dry!"
"Yet Ashveil's overflowing with it!"
The crowd could barely stand under the oppressive atmosphere. The ground beneath their feet quaked violently, cracks forming as though the earth itself feared what was coming.
Above, the Golden Conqueror's Haki gathered, compressing into hundreds of radiant blades that hovered like divine punishment in the sky—each one forged from Ashveil's willpower itself.
Mihawk gripped his black blade, Yoru, tightly. Even his steady hands trembled under the immense pressure. His eyes gleamed with excitement rather than fear.
"So this is it," Mihawk murmured. "… the technique you once mentioned, isn't it, Ashveil?"
Ashveil smiled faintly. "That's right, Mihawk. Be on guard."
A spark of admiration flashed through Mihawk's eyes before it was replaced with pure, eager resolve.
"Come, Ashveil! I didn't expect you to still surprise me after all this time."
"This move… it surpasses the one you used during our last duel."
"Don't hold back—I want to see its full power!"
Whitebeard's expression grew grim. "Hey, Mihawk, don't be reckless! You know this attack could kill you!"
The Whitebeard Pirates froze at their captain's words.
"Wait, what did you say, Pops?" Ace asked, stunned. "That attack can kill Dracule Mihawk—the world's greatest swordsman?"
Ace knew Mihawk's strength. To fell such a man with one strike was to stand on the peak of the world itself.
"Pops isn't exaggerating," Vista said solemnly. "That move could truly end him."
Jozu blinked in disbelief. "Didn't you just say Mihawk wouldn't lose easily? Now you're saying he'll die in one move?"
Vista's voice quivered. "You don't understand, Jozu. Only a swordsman can feel it—the intent in that strike. That's no ordinary swordsmanship."
Marco's face darkened. He turned toward Ashveil and shouted, "Ashveil! Don't use your full power! You'll kill Mihawk!"
Doflamingo's grin vanished, his shades glinting ominously. The thought of one man killing Mihawk with a single blow sent shivers down his spine.
But Ashveil only raised a hand and waved dismissively.
"Don't stop him, Marco," Mihawk said calmly. "As a swordsman, facing such a technique is the highest honor."
"To understand the Way in the morning and die in the evening—so be it!"
Marco could only gape. "You sword freaks are insane," he muttered.
Then it happened.
The hundred golden blades forged from Ashveil's Conqueror's Haki streaked toward Mihawk in unison, tearing through the sky and leaving trails of radiant destruction behind them.
The heavens themselves seemed to split open.
Mihawk's gaze was steady, his pupils reflecting pure gold. His blade hummed as he drew forth all his willpower. This was the spirit of a true swordsman—one who faced death unflinching.
Vista bowed his head and whispered, "Dracule Mihawk… the world's greatest swordsman. You are truly worthy."
Marco's breath caught. "He's really going to die, isn't he?"
"Ashveil, stop!" Marco shouted. "If you go through with this, Mihawk will die!"
But by then, it was too late.
The light of a hundred golden blades descended.
And the world itself seemed to hold its breath.
---