Mihawk's breathing hitched for a fraction of a second.
His grip around the black blade Yoru tightened without him realizing it.
Until now, he had always challenged the rising stars of the new era.
But the man standing before him now was a living legend, a witness to the previous age itself.
His fighting spirit did not diminish in the slightest. Instead, it burned hotter than ever before.
To cross blades with such an opponent, using such a legendary sword… for a swordsman walking the path of the blade, this was the highest honor.
"Come."
Mihawk said nothing more. He simply raised the black blade Yoru slowly up before his chest.
His aura tightened to the extreme. It was as if he had merged completely with the wind, the rocks, and even the island beneath his feet.
Kael's gaze turned serious as well.
A dried leaf was caught up by the wind and drifted lazily between the two.
The instant the leaf floated down to the space between them, just about to touch the ground…
Clang.
Both men vanished.
A heartbeat later, a blinding flash and a thunderous boom exploded in the center of the island.
The black and crimson Ace and the pitch black Yoru, two blades that represented the peaks of two different eras, smashed into each other head on.
Armament Haki so dense it was visible to the naked eye surged along the edges of their blades, pulverizing the rocky ground beneath their feet into dust.
Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.
No flashy techniques.
Just the purest, rawest clash of swordsmanship.
Two figures blurred into a pair of overlapping shadows, weaving and colliding like mad within a radius of a hundred meters.
Every time their blades met, a circular shockwave detonated outward, slicing and shattering the surrounding boulders as if they were made of tofu.
They were moving so fast that a normal human eye would never keep up. All one could see were streaks of black red and pure black carving through the air, endlessly crossing and colliding, leaving a chain of sonic booms and sparks hanging in the sky.
Mihawk's swordwork was wild in its breadth yet precise in its edge, every strike packed with crushing force and a sense of unstoppable sharpness, as if he meant to cleave the sky itself.
Kael, on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. Ace moved in his hand with light, fluid precision, always meeting Mihawk's fierce blows at the most infuriating angles, deflecting and guiding his power away again and again.
After dozens more exchanges that pushed speed to its limit, the two figures suddenly broke apart, each landing atop a massive rock fifty meters apart, facing each other from afar.
The sea wind gusted past, tugging at Kael's clothes.
He steadied his slightly quickened breathing, and his golden eyes shone with unrestrained admiration.
Subarashi.
What a monster.
From that beastlike combat instinct, to that relentlessly polished, nearly flawless swordwork, to the Armament and Observation Haki already approaching the realm of the top…
In every field that mattered to a swordsman, this young man had reached an astonishing height.
Kael made a quiet assessment in his heart. If they compared swordsmanship alone, without using his Devil Fruit or any other powers, then they really were on even ground.
If anything, on this pure path of the sword, Mihawk had probably walked further, and more single mindedly, than he had.
After all, Kael was not a full time swordsman.
With that thought, Kael tightened his grip around Ace.
Alright then, Mihawk. Let me show you a power that goes beyond pure sword technique.
A wholly different aura began to rise from Kael's body.
If earlier he had been relying on experience and skill to respond to Mihawk's assaults, then now, he was finally getting serious.
The Haki wrapped around Ace's blade began to change in nature. It was no longer simple black hardening, but instead flowed along the sword like water, alive and shifting.
A faint sakura pink light ran down the edge, eventually dyeing the entire blade in a brilliant crimson sheen.
The flow of that Haki was beautiful, like cherry blossoms in full bloom, yet within it lurked a power that could sever anything in its path.
Opposite him, Mihawk's eyes narrowed. He could clearly feel the danger radiating from Kael's sword climbing in jagged leaps.
Kael slowly raised his blade, the tip angled toward the sky.
"One Sword Style, Black Flash."
His low shout cut through the wind as he swung.
A black and gold slash tore out at terrifying speed. The air itself split with a shriek, the very space around it seeming to twist in protest, wailing in a way that set teeth on edge.
Faced with that heaven rending blow, Mihawk's expression did not show a speck of panic.
He gripped Yoru with both hands and raised it high above his head, pouring every drop of strength and Haki in his body into the blade.
Hum.
An overwhelming force erupted from the sword.
A dazzling emerald light shot into the sky, wrapping around Mihawk like a pillar of green aurora.
Then he swung.
A massive, crescent shaped slash of pure jade green, clear as sculpted crystal, roared forward to meet Kael's Black Flash head on.
The next instant, the black and the green slashes, each representing the apex of the current age, crashed into each other above the island.
Thunder roared.
There was no word for the sound that followed. It drowned out everything. The entire island shook violently, as if struggling to stay in one piece.
At the heart of the clash, light and raw force rampaged, churning together into a gigantic, expanding sphere of energy that devoured everything it touched.
The shockwave turned into a visible ring of white pressure, racing away in all directions. The sea surface was pressed down into a massive basin before erupting into waves tens of meters high.
Only when the light finally faded and the dust settled did the destruction reveal itself.
In the center of the once jagged island, a deep, terrifying scar now cleaved the ground in two.
Kael stood on one side of that cut, looking across at Mihawk on the other, who was equally unscathed, Yoru still steady in his hand.
His expression, however, had grown… complicated.
It was not surprise that Mihawk had managed to block that blow.
He was just… annoyed.
Why?
Kael was screaming internally.
Why did you not shout the name of your move?!
Here he was, posing properly, building up the atmosphere, even using advanced Armament to dye his sword in such a cool color, and in the end he had shouted "One Sword Style, Black Flash" at full volume, all dramatic and awesome.
And you?
You just raised your sword with that deadpan face of yours, and then swoosh, cut it out casually?
It made his ultimate look like it had just been blocked by your basic attack.
Calling out the move name at the top of your lungs, with all your soul, that is the romance between men!
You emotionally tone deaf hawk eyed bastard.
Down the middle of the island, the deep gash in the earth yawned like an open wound, silently telling of the terror of that clash.
A large cross shaped vein slowly throbbed on Kael's forehead.
In an incredibly calm voice that still somehow carried the feel of an approaching storm, he delivered a question from the depths of his soul.
"Hey, you."
Mihawk's hawk like eyes met his, faintly puzzled.
"Why?" Kael's tone was full of righteous frustration. "Why did you not shout out the name of your attack?"
"…"
For the second time, Mihawk's forever icy expression turned as blank as it had in the living room the day before.
The name… of the attack?
"A swordsman's focus should be entirely on honing the blade itself, should it not?" Mihawk finally spoke. His tone carried a natural, unquestioning confusion.
"What meaning is there in giving techniques flashy names?"
Mihawk, internally: I am a warrior, not a poet.
"Ha…"
Kael laughed. The kind of laugh you let out when you are so angry it is funny.
He nodded slowly. His expression, however, was growing very dangerous.
"I see. I see how it is."
Mihawk, I really have to fix you.
A terrifying pressure exploded from Kael's body.
Mihawk's pupils shrank to pinpoints.
Every muscle in his body tensed at once. His instincts screamed in his head like sirens.
Black and crimson lightning crackled wildly along Ace's blade.
This was no longer the rosy glow of flowing Haki. This was something deeper, darker, steeped in pure domination and destruction.
In the blink of an eye, Kael vanished.
Too fast.
Mihawk did not even have time to fully rely on his Observation Haki. He could only throw Yoru horizontally before him on instinct, channeling every last shred of Haki and strength into the black blade.
Kael's figure reappeared like a specter, Ace howling down from above with unstoppable force.
"Divine Departure!"
Clang.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
The next second, Yoru was torn from Mihawk's hands, turning into a streak of black light as it spun away, finally slamming into the ground a hundred meters off and burying itself there, the hilt still trembling violently.
Mihawk himself was flung backward. His boots gouged two deep trenches into the earth as he skidded.
With a dull thud, he dropped to one knee, head bowed, shoulders heaving with rough, uneven breaths.
Drop by drop, warm liquid pattered down onto the dry ground, blooming into dark red spots.
A savage cut ran from his left shoulder all the way down to the right side of his chest, deep enough to glimpse bone.
Blood poured constantly from the wound, quickly soaking the front of his shirt.
Kael remained in his finishing stance, the tip of Ace angled toward the ground. The black red lightning slowly receded, revealing the sword's original form.
He watched the kneeling Mihawk for a moment, then sheathed his blade in one smooth motion.
If he had not twisted his wrist at the last instant, turning the edge aside by a mere inch and pulling back most of the power, Mihawk might very well have been cleaved in two on the spot.
"Why did you not evade?" Kael asked, his voice quiet again.
With Mihawk's Observation Haki and reaction speed, even if he could not escape completely, he should at least have been able to avoid a fatal blow. But he had not. He had chosen to take it head on.
Mihawk slowly lifted his head and wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
His face was pale, but those hawk eyes burned with a fire fiercer than at the beginning of the fight.
The shock of glimpsing a higher summit.
And a resolve that would not bend.
"Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame."
Using his sword to prop himself up, he forced his battered body to its feet, posture wavering yet unshakably firm.
"I am the man who will become the world's greatest swordsman."
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