For some, the height of piracy ended with the so-called Overlord of the East Blue — Don Krieg.
But to Zeff, the Red-Legged Chef who had once braved the Grand Line, that was laughable.
He had seen the true monsters — the Four Emperors who ruled the New World.
And among them, none was more terrifying than Charlotte Linlin, the woman known as Big Mom, whose body could not be broken.
"Amazing…" Zeff muttered, eyes wide as he watched the duel unfold. "To think someone with that same monstrous physique could appear here, in the weak seas of the East Blue…"
Mihawk's expression grew darker, the playful indifference in his eyes replaced by a sharp, burning focus.
"So," he said slowly, "you truly don't know her?"
He no longer regarded Ron as a reckless fool — but as a worthy opponent.
The kind that demanded his full power.
This kind of talent… Mihawk thought. Given time, he could surpass even Red-Haired Shanks.
That realization made his pulse quicken.
Zoro had been spared because Mihawk wished for him to grow into a challenge that could one day test his throne as the world's greatest swordsman.
But this man — this "Natural Destroyer" — might not need years.
He might stand beside that throne in days.
Mihawk raised Yoru, the Black Sword, its obsidian edge glinting in the sunlight.
Then —
A deep green arc of energy exploded from his blade, soaring across the air with a shriek like tearing thunder.
The wind itself split open.
"A flying slash!"
But this was no ordinary slash.
It was a strike that transcended "Iron-Cutting Force" — the next realm of swordsmanship.
Ron's eyes lit up instantly.
As expected from the greatest swordsman alive… this is no mere technique.
And just as the emerald slash roared toward him, the familiar, echoing chime rang in his mind:
[Ding!] You have witnessed Mihawk's One-Sword Style: Soaring Slash (Top Tier).
[Ding!] Congratulations — through your innate gift, you have comprehended One-Sword Style (Top Tier – Soaring Slash)!
"Soaring Slash…"
Ron's gaze sharpened.
In this world, the path of a swordsman was a lonely one.
To merely cut iron was the threshold — the mark of a true swordsman.
But to release one's sword energy, to send it flying across the air like a storm…
That was the domain of the Great Swordsmen.
Between those two — Iron-Cutting and Flying Slash — lay the line separating ordinary masters from the legends of the blade.
Roger's divine strike, Divine Departure.
Oden's peerless Paradise Totsuka.
Both were born from the same foundation — perfected swordsmanship, fused with Haki and willpower.
And now, Ron had reached that very realm.
From an iron-fisted brawler who had barely touched a blade…
To a Great Swordsman capable of matching the world's finest — all in the span of less than an hour.
Half an hour of observation had done what decades of training could not.
Ron grinned.
"Challenging Mihawk," he murmured, "was the smartest thing I've ever done."
Every second of this battle was pure profit — he was learning Mihawk's techniques faster than the swordsman could use them.
He was plucking wool off a lion — and enjoying every second of it.
Even Roronoa Zoro, the so-called deuteragonist of fate, would take two years to grasp this same ability.
The next step, of course, would be to infuse the sword with Armament Haki — to create a Permanent Black Blade, a feat achieved by only two men in history: Mihawk himself, and Ryuma, the Sword God of Wano.
And when that day came, Ron intended to steal that knowledge too.
After all, who could resist the joy of stealing power from a legend?
But Mihawk's strike was already upon him.
The emerald arc howled like a living storm, slicing the ocean in half as it descended.
Nami's breath caught.
"Ron! Don't—"
But he didn't move.
He smiled.
"Perfect timing."
Then, to the shock of everyone present, Ron charged into the slash.
The impact shook the sky.
BOOOOM!
Waves exploded outward. The restaurant rocked violently on its keel.
And then — silence.
Smoke billowed.
Through the haze, a shadow stood — unmoving.
It was him.
The emerald energy that could split mountains had left not a single mark on Ron's skin.
He raised one arm — and with a grunt, he lifted the slash.
The swirling green energy trembled, bending under his strength like liquid light.
And then, just as Whitebeard's diamond-bodied commander Jozu once did in Marineford — Ron hurled the slash skyward.
The green crescent rocketed upward like a meteor and vanished into the endless blue.
The deck fell silent.
Zeff, Nami, Johnny, Yosaku, even Luffy — all stared, slack-jawed.
Mihawk's eyes widened, his composure cracking for the first time.
That attack — that unstoppable, world-shaking slash — had been deflected.
No — overpowered.
Before anyone could even breathe again, Ron grinned.
"Courtesy demands I return the favor," he said, his voice like rolling thunder.
"One-Sword Style — Soaring Slash!"
He swung.
The world split open.
BOOOOOOOM!
A colossal wave of sword energy erupted, colliding head-on with Mihawk's fading slash.
The impact sent shockwaves across the sea, splitting clouds and shattering the horizon.
The two energies intertwined — green and silver — before bursting into a blinding explosion of light.
Even Mihawk's pupils contracted in disbelief.
"That's… the Soaring Slash…" he murmured. "And its power is equal to mine?"
He had released his strike using Yoru, one of the Twelve Supreme Grade Blades — yet Ron, wielding nothing more than common steel, had matched it blow for blow.
And neither had used Haki.
It was… inconceivable.
"Could it be," Mihawk thought, "that his 'Natural Destroyer' body… amplifies sword energy itself?"
He found himself both unsettled and exhilarated.
Before him stood a man who could match him in swordsmanship
without Haki,
without a named blade,
without years of training.
Just raw, terrifying talent.
For the first time in many years, Mihawk felt something he hadn't felt since crossing swords with Red-Haired Shanks.
Excitement.