Mihawk's intuition was not wrong.
The power of his strikes was amplified through Yoru, the supreme black blade that carried his will.
Each swing was equivalent to another man's finishing move — elegant, deadly, absolute.
But Ron…
Ron's sheer physical might elevated his Flying Slashes to an equal level.
The essence of a Flying Slash lies in cutting through the air so sharply that it splits the very atmosphere — creating a vacuum wave of sword energy.
The stronger the force, the deeper the cut through space itself.
That was why Big Mom's attack, Weiguo, could obliterate fortresses — it followed the same principle.
Mihawk's eyes glinted.
"Your defense is extraordinary," he said calmly. "Then let's see whose slash reaches further — yours, or mine."
He didn't need to say more.
In an instant, Ron swung first.
Another massive, emerald slash erupted from his blade, slicing through the air like a living storm.
BOOOOOOM!
The world trembled.
Even now, neither Mihawk nor Ron had used Haki.
Each carried his own pride — a duel of swords, and nothing more.
Mihawk, proud as ever, refused to break that unspoken rule.
Within seconds, their slashes collided midair — twin blades of energy clashing with cataclysmic force.
BOOM! BOOM!
The impact roared like thunder.
Waves surged upward, towering higher than the restaurant itself.
The sea rolled violently, splitting apart under the shockwave.
The deck beneath their feet quaked, the wooden planks groaning under the strain.
The floating restaurant Baratie was tossed about like a toy in a storm.
Even Luffy, Sanji, and Zeff struggled to stay upright, gripping the railings as the deck tilted beneath them.
And yet — the two swordsmen stood unmoving.
When the waves finally calmed, both slashes had vanished — destroyed one another perfectly.
No victor.
No loser.
Only silence and awe.
The spectators could barely breathe.
Who would have believed it?
A man from the East Blue — standing as Mihawk's equal.
"Not bad," Mihawk said softly, lowering Yoru.
His golden eyes gleamed with rare excitement.
"For someone your age to stir my long-slumbering battle spirit…"
Before his words faded, he vanished.
A blur of motion — then the gleam of black steel.
Yoru darted forward like a viper, thrusting straight for Ron's chest.
This time, Mihawk had abandoned finesse for precision — the art of the pierce.
If slashing could not break through, then he would test this monster's limits in a single, lethal strike.
The blade moved so fast that even the wind split with a shriek.
For the first time, Ron felt real pressure.
Was this the same thrust Mihawk once used against Shanks?
The one sharp enough to pierce through a ship's hull from a hundred meters away?
But even so…
Ron didn't retreat.
He pivoted, catching the thrust in a sideways motion — his blade flashing up to deflect it with brute strength.
CLANG!
The impact rang like a bell.
Sparks exploded as Ron twisted his wrist, knocking Yoru aside.
For a brief instant, the two swordsmen were locked, faces inches apart — testing, measuring, challenging.
Neither had used Haki.
Neither needed to.
The clash was pure — swordsmanship at its rawest form.
Then, in that moment of perfect focus, a familiar chime echoed through Ron's mind:
[Ding!] During battle with Dracule Mihawk, your One-Sword Style (Peak Technique: Soaring Slash) has evolved into — One-Sword Style (Ultimate Realm: Genesis Sword Heart)!
"...What?"
Ron froze for half a heartbeat, stunned.
His top-tier slash had evolved on its own?
Automatically?
That shouldn't have been possible!
His body's gift — the "God-Level Talent" that allowed him to learn and adapt mid-battle — was already absurd.
But now it had begun to self-evolve?
Even Luffy, under Kaido's brutal mentorship, had never experienced something like this!
Yet, as disbelief gave way to realization, a grin crept across Ron's face.
When the impossible happens to you, it's no longer cheating — it's destiny.
"The Ultimate Sword — Genesis Sword Heart…" he murmured, feeling the name echo through his soul.
If the Eternal Black Blade represented the ultimate fusion of weapon and Haki —
Then this new state, Genesis Sword Heart, transcended even that.
It wasn't about the sword.
It wasn't about the body.
It was about the heart — the will that shapes the blade, the intent that defines what it cuts.
Sword and soul as one.
The Eternal Black Blade is forged through Haki — an external force.
But Genesis Sword Heart… comes from within.
The realization struck him like lightning.
At this moment, his swordsmanship stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Mihawk's —
perhaps even beyond, in purity and intent.
It all happened in the blink of an eye.
And without realizing it, Mihawk had just created his own rival — someone who might one day surpass him.
Zzt—!
A flicker of pain snapped Ron back to reality.
He looked down to see a thin line of blood across his chest.
In his moment of revelation, he had let his guard slip.
Mihawk's blade had struck — Yoru piercing just deep enough to break skin… and stop.
The indestructible flesh of the "Natural Destroyer" had blocked it entirely.
To anyone else, it would have been death.
To Ron, it was a scratch.
"Ah!"
Nami gasped, hands covering her mouth — but her fear melted into astonishment.
Mihawk's legendary black sword had failed to pierce even an inch of Ron's flesh.
His muscles flexed once, and the blade slid free, leaving no wound.
"Unbelievable…" Zeff whispered. "Even the Twelve Supreme Blades can't cut him…"
The entire deck stared in stunned silence.
That wasn't a man. That was a weapon made flesh.
Mihawk stepped back, studying him anew.
His usual composure faltered, replaced by fascination.
He had thought Ron's defense remarkable before — now, it was divine.
But before he could speak, Ron exhaled, grinning sheepishly.
"Apologies," he said. "I got… a little lost in thought. Had an epiphany."
Mihawk blinked. Then, slowly, he nodded.
He understood.
Swordmasters lived and died chasing moments like this — brief flashes of enlightenment that could redefine everything.
And this boy…
had just found one mid-battle.
In his heart, Mihawk smiled.
He wasn't angry.
He was exhilarated.
"Then show me," Mihawk said quietly, the edge returning to his voice.
"If you've grasped something new — demonstrate it. Let me witness this 'Genesis Sword Heart' of yours."
He wasn't mocking him.
He was inviting him — offering himself as the whetstone to refine a blade yet unborn.
That was Mihawk — proud, unyielding, but always seeking the next horizon.
Ron's respect for him deepened.
He remembered the man from the stories — the Mihawk who once spared Zoro and guided him toward greatness.
That same generosity of spirit now shone before him.
"Gladly," Ron said with a confident smile.
The two faced each other across the trembling deck.
Waves lapped against the hull.
The sea breeze stirred their coats, whispering through the silence like a prelude to destiny.
Two figures stood steady upon the swaying sea — unshaken, immovable, divine.
And as the wind howled between them, it carried with it the breath of the world —
the song of blades about to clash once more.
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