When Ryan Quinn saw that massive, jet-black wave of sword energy surging toward the pirate ship, a single thought crossed his mind:
If Captain Awei had just chosen a normal life instead of piracy... maybe things would've ended differently.
BOOM!
The dark slash ripped through the sea, tearing the pirate vessel apart like paper. Flames and seawater erupted skyward in a thunderous explosion, scattering debris across the waves.
Moments later, the ocean fell silent again except for the faint crackling of burning wood as the remnants of the ship sank beneath the surface.
[Mission Complete!]
[Reward: One luxury yacht granted!]
As the system's voice echoed in his mind, the dark aura of magic dissipated from Ryan's body.
Before him, a sleek mid-sized yacht shimmered into existence on the water, white and silver with modern curves and solar panels gleaming under the sun.
Ryan whistled. "Well damn, finally! No more running across the ocean like a lunatic!"
"Hey, system," he said, stepping aboard. "How does this thing run? Gas? Magic?"
[The yacht is powered by solar energy. Alternatively, the host may pay five million Berries for an instant full recharge.]
Ryan blinked. "Five million? You're robbing me blind, man…" He sighed, shaking his head. "Still, not bad. I'll take free sunshine any day."
Just as he was admiring his new ride, a shadow loomed over the waves.
From the distance, the coffin-boat glided closer, and the man aboard Dracule Mihawk fixed those razor-sharp golden eyes directly on Ryan.
That piercing stare was enough to make anyone freeze. Mihawk's gaze lingered briefly on Ryan's face, then shifted to the black blade in his hand Excalibur Morgan.
Ryan could almost feel the pressure from those eyes.
From the very moment he'd appeared, Mihawk had sensed it too the aura of a swordsman.
The famed Hawkeye had come to the East Blue after hearing rumors of a skilled swordmaster in Frostmoon Village. He'd wanted a proper duel, a test of strength.
But instead, fate had dropped this odd scene in his path: a mysterious, unfamiliar swordsman who had just obliterated a pirate ship with a single strike.
Mihawk had held back his blade, not wanting to steal another man's prey.
Now, up close, he realized something unexpected the swordsman was actually a woman.
Her armor gleamed with dark light, and that overwhelming energy still lingered faintly around her.
A spark of excitement flickered in Mihawk's eyes. His fingers itched.
That familiar urge the thrill of a worthy battle.
Even his black sword, Yoru, began to hum softly behind him, as if recognizing a rival's presence.
Mihawk unsheathed it, the sound of steel whispering through the air. The tip of his blade pointed directly at Ryan.
"Dracule Mihawk," he introduced himself calmly. "Unknown swordswoman. Duel me."
"...No!" Ryan snapped instantly.
Mihawk froze. He hadn't expected a refusal that blunt.
"I said no!" Ryan waved her hands frantically. "I can't beat you! Why would I fight you?!"
To be fair, she was absolutely right. With only twenty percent of Saber Alter's strength active, challenging Mihawk would be suicide.
Besides, she'd just gotten this new yacht. If a fight broke out here, the collateral damage alone would make her cry.
No, this wasn't worth it. Not even close.
If she had fifty percent of her power unlocked, she might've risked it maybe even launched a light cannon or two for fun.
But right now? At twenty percent? That wasn't courage. That was just begging for a beating.
"I'm not fighting you," Ryan said firmly. "You're not seriously thinking about bullying a weak little lady, are you?"
That line hit Mihawk like a bucket of cold water.
He blinked once... then sighed. The killing intent faded.
"You," he said finally, "are a strange one."
Ryan grinned, sheepish but proud. "Hehe, thanks. I try."
"Hey, uh, old man mind pointing me to the nearest island?"
"Old man?" Mihawk's eyebrow twitched. In all his years sailing the Grand Line, no one had ever called him that.
But he let it slide.
"Head ten nautical miles south," he said. "There's an island there."
Ryan's smile stiffened. "Uh... that's where I just came from."
Mihawk paused, clearly not expecting that.
"In that case," he said, shrugging slightly, "I can't help you. My map of the East Blue isn't that detailed."
Ryan slumped. "So what, I'm supposed to just drift around until I find something?"
"Don't you have a Log Pose?" Mihawk asked, mildly confused.
Ryan scratched her cheek. "Yeah... about that. No, I don't."
Mihawk's sigh carried the weight of a man who had seen too much incompetence for one lifetime. He reached into his coat and pulled out a spare Log Pose, tossing it over.
Ryan darted forward and caught it midair.
"This one came off a pirate I defeated," Mihawk said. "I have no idea what island it points to, but if you've got no destination, follow it. You might find something worth seeing."
Ryan grinned. "Thanks, old man."
Mihawk smirked faintly. "Until next time, girl. When we meet again, I expect you won't turn away from a fight."
Ryan raised her sword in mock salute. "Next time we meet, I'll bash your head in!" she shouted as Mihawk's coffin-boat drifted away into the horizon.
Mihawk just chuckled under his breath. "We'll see."
Three days later.
Cocoyasi Village.
A sleek, black-patterned yacht sliced through the waves, its engine humming as it neared the shore.
At the helm stood Ryan Quinn sleep-deprived, salt-stained, and very, very hungry.
Ever since that encounter with Mihawk, she'd followed the Log Pose relentlessly, racing across endless stretches of open sea.
But she never imagined the island would be that far.
Even at full throttle, it had taken three whole days to reach land.
"Three days," Ryan groaned, clutching her stomach. "Three days of raw seafood. No salt. No sauce. No seasoning. I swear I'm turning into a fish."
She scowled, thinking back to Mihawk. "Did that guy give me the farthest damn island on purpose? Just because I wouldn't fight him?"
She sighed dramatically. "Figures. Petty swordsman behavior."
Still, as the coastline came into view, frustration melted into relief.
"Finally! Land! Civilization! Food!"
Her eyes sparkled with hope.
Ryan pushed the throttle forward. The yacht's engine roared as magical energy surged across its surface, boosting the speed even further.
Waves split in her wake, and the faint smell of salt and soil filled the air.
Her heart raced with anticipation.
After three long, miserable days at sea, Ryan Quinn was ready to set foot on solid ground and maybe, just maybe, find the next step on her ridiculous, world-shaking adventure.