Zoro was all too familiar with the scene unfolding before him.
After all, just two months ago, a certain captain with a twisted sense of humor had done the exact same thing as the man standing before him now.
This display—nearly humiliating in nature—was an affront to any self-respecting swordsman.
Even though he'd already experienced something similar, the veins on Zoro's forehead bulged with uncontrollable anger.
"There's got to be a limit to bad taste!"
"Bastard!"
With a roar, Zoro stepped back slightly, then launched forward again—his three swords flashing as streaks of light, hurtling toward Hawkeye.
It was clear that after his bout with Gawain, he had internalized the lesson: reserve part of your strength—strike with seven parts and keep three in defense. A blend of offense and caution.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
Each lightning-fast slash tore through the air—but all of them were effortlessly intercepted by the unassuming little knife in Hawkeye's hand.
The blade, no longer than five centimeters, looked more suitable for peeling fruit than dueling. Yet in Hawkeye's grasp, it was enough to deflect every one of Zoro's powerful strikes.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
On the flat deck, only the sound of metal clashing echoed repeatedly, sending numbing vibrations through the ears of everyone present.
The chefs of the Baratie, the floating sea restaurant, were speechless.
"The Pirate Hunter slashes are so fast you can't even see them," one muttered. "He's probably one of the top swordsmen in all of East Blue…"
"But that guy… with a knife that looks like a toy… can actually block it all?"
"What the hell is he made of!?"
Patty's teeth chattered. He couldn't even get the words out properly. Especially after remembering that yesterday he'd actually considered attacking Hawkeye.
Looking back now, if Zeff hadn't stopped him, he'd have ended up like a fish on a chopping board.
"That little knife… forget fighting—it'd be hard to even slice vegetables with it," said Carne, a pirate-turned-cook with a vicious look and a size smaller than Patty. Even he gulped involuntarily.
He'd lived the pirate life, thought he'd seen it all, but this—this made his knees tremble.
It wasn't just Hawkeye's piercing gaze that rattled him. It was the oppressive, despair-inducing strength behind it.
No… it wasn't just the eyes. The two were connected.
Only someone with that level of strength could have eyes like that!
"Is this… the power of the world's greatest swordsman?"
"Not even close."
Zeff shook his head, his expression solemn.
"That man hasn't even drawn his real sword. To him, this is just a warm-up. No... not even that much."
"And his true opponent isn't the Pirate Hunter."
As he spoke, Zeff turned to glance at Gawain, standing silently at the side. The man's expression hadn't changed in the slightest, as if this scene was nothing out of the ordinary—exactly as he'd expected.
In the arena of combat, Zoro's swords spun like whirlwinds. The sharp edges screamed as they sliced the air, creating a harsh symphony of battle.
Yet none of it fazed Hawkeye. His stance remained elegant, composed—more like someone strolling through a garden than clashing in a deadly duel.
Gawain's hand was already resting on the hilt of his blade as he watched.
He believed he could parry Zoro's strikes with a small knife too—he had, after all, done something similar back on Zesho Island.
But the difference between him and Hawkeye was stark.
Gawain had relied on overwhelming swordsmanship—shutting down Zoro's attacks before they could even form, stopping the momentum before it was born.
Hawkeye, on the other hand, clashed strength with strength. His counterattacks came exactly at the moment when Zoro's blows reached their peak—meeting power with greater power, dominating him at his strongest.
"That arrogance," Gawain muttered to himself. "Just as expected."
The battle was reaching its conclusion.
Despite Zoro's unyielding spirit and fierce momentum, he was still too green to stand against Hawkeye.
With precise control, Hawkeye's small blade deflected all three of Zoro's swords—then shot forward, piercing straight into his chest.
Swish!
Blood sprayed into the air.
Zoro clenched his teeth against the pain, but his feet never budged. A crooked grin formed on his lips, and there was a helpless glint in his eye.
"Even the spot where you stabbed me… it's the same. You monsters… do you coordinate these things in advance?"
Hawkeye was briefly taken aback, but his admiration for the young man wasn't hidden. His hawk-like eyes locked onto Zoro's.
"Why didn't you retreat?"
Zoro grinned wider, staring into eyes that would terrify most men.
"Who knows~"
"I just feel… if I didn't retreat when fighting that guy—how could I back down now? If I do, how could I stand before him again, sword in hand?"
Hawkeye smiled, a rare curl of amusement touching his lips. He tossed aside the dagger and gripped the oversized black sword on his back with reverence.
"This is the respect you've earned."
"Don't die."
Zoro, now too weak to resist, spread his arms wide, blood dripping from his grin.
"What are you doing?"
"A scar on the back is a swordsman's disgrace!"
Shiiing!
The massive black blade tore through the air—cutting from Zoro's right shoulder down to his lower abdomen. A mist of blood followed.
The remaining force of the swing cleaved halfway through the Baratie's deck.
Zoro's body crumpled, a pool of blood spreading beneath him.
The onlookers stood frozen.
They'd known Zoro was no match for Hawkeye… but no one expected him to fall so fast.
And yet it was Hawkeye's final strike that truly filled them with awe.
Then a blond figure stepped forward, rage bubbling in his chest.
"Why didn't you help him!?" Sanji shouted at Gawain.
Gawain had stood still, unmoving as Zoro collapsed in a pool of blood. To Sanji, it mirrored a memory from long ago—of another time when someone stood by and did nothing.
"Isn't that guy your companion?!"
"Help?" Gawain turned calmly at the sound, locking eyes with the blond.
Curly eyebrows. Blonde hair. Black suit.
How could Gawain not recognize Sanji—the man he'd been searching for?
But now that he was face to face with him, a strange sense of familiarity washed over him… like he'd seen this face before, in a memory from another life—only younger, more naive.
After a moment of fruitless thought, Gawain let it go and spoke flatly:
"If I stepped in now, it would insult him. Look at his face... That's satisfaction."
Sanji glanced down—and froze.
Zoro, unconscious and soaked in blood… was smiling.
It wasn't the contorted smile of someone in pain. It was genuine—peaceful, proud.
How could anyone smile like that after being cut down?
Sanji was speechless.
Then Zeff's voice rang out from behind:
"In this world, there are things far more important than life or profit."
"Just like when you secretly fed those starving pirates… just like the All Blue you've always dreamed of, where you can find ingredients from every sea."
"And for a swordsman who devotes himself to his path… there is nothing more important than surpassing that man."