Mihawk's breathing hitched, and his fingers tightened unconsciously around the hilt of his black blade, Yoru. He had spent his life challenging the rising stars of this new era. Now, he was facing a living legend from the last one.
His fighting spirit, far from diminishing, now burned with an unprecedented intensity. To cross swords with such an opponent, wielding such a legendary blade, was the highest honor a swordsman on the path to the top could ask for.
"Come," Mihawk said, his voice low and steady. He raised Yoru slowly to his chest. His aura, once sharp and expansive, was now reined in to the absolute extreme, as if he had merged with the sea breeze, the rocks, and the very island itself.
Kyle's gaze also turned serious. A single withered leaf, caught in the wind, drifted between them. As it reached the exact midpoint and began to fall…
Clang!
Both men vanished from where they stood. In the next instant, blinding flashes of steel and deafening roars erupted in the center of the desolate island. The crimson "Ace" and the pitch-black "Yoru," two blades representing the peak of their respective eras, collided head-on. Armament Haki, so dense it was visible to the naked eye, surged from the blades, instantly pulverizing the rocky ground beneath their feet.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
There were no fancy techniques, only the purest form of swordsmanship. The two men became blurred shadows, crisscrossing fiercely within a hundred-meter radius. Each collision of their blades unleashed a circular shockwave that sliced through the surrounding rock formations as if they were made of tofu. Their speed was so incredible that a normal person would only see streaks of crimson and black light intertwining in the air, leaving behind a trail of sonic booms and sparks.
Mihawk's style was broad and powerful, each strike carrying an unmatched sharpness that seemed capable of cleaving the sky. Kyle, however, appeared completely at ease. His sword, Ace, was agile and precise, always meeting Mihawk's ferocious attacks at the perfect angle, deflecting them with minimal effort.
After dozens more lightning-fast exchanges, the two figures suddenly separated, each landing on a giant rock fifty meters apart, facing each other across the ravaged landscape. The sea breeze whipped at Kyle's clothes. He took a moment to steady his slightly quickened breath, his golden eyes filled with undisguised admiration.
Incredible, he thought. What a formidable man.
His combat intuition was as sharp as a beast's, his swordsmanship was tempered and flawless, and his mastery of Armament and Observation Haki had already reached the level of a top-tier fighter. The young man before him was astonishingly skilled in every area a swordsman needed to be. Kyle silently admitted to himself that in a pure contest of swordsmanship, without using his Devil Fruit, he and Mihawk were evenly matched. In fact, on the single path of the sword, Mihawk was even more focused and had likely gone further than he had.
After all, Kyle mused, I'm not a professional swordsman. He tightened his grip on Ace. Very well, Mihawk. Let's see how you handle a power that transcends pure sword techniques.
A completely different aura surged from Kyle. If he had been fighting with experience and skill before, now, he was getting serious. The Haki coiling around Ace's blade began to change. It was no longer a simple, hardened black, but now flowed like water. A touch of cherry-red bled across the blade, eventually dyeing the entire sword a magnificent scarlet. The flow of Haki was as beautiful as blooming cherry blossoms, yet it contained a terrifying power capable of severing anything.
Across from him, Mihawk's eyes narrowed. He could feel the danger emanating from Kyle's sword climbing exponentially.
Kyle slowly raised his blade, its tip pointing toward the sky. "One-Sword Style: Black Flash!" he shouted, swinging the sword in a powerful downward arc.
A black and crimson slash shot forward, tearing the air apart in its wake. Space itself seemed to twist and scream.
Facing this earth-shattering strike, Mihawk showed no hint of panic. He gripped Yoru with both hands, raised it high above his head, and poured every ounce of his strength and Haki into it. An astonishing, dazzling emerald-green light erupted from the black blade, enveloping him like an aurora. Then, he swung down.
A crescent-shaped slash, equally immense and colored a translucent emerald green, flew to meet Kyle's attack. The next second, the black-and-crimson and the emerald-green slashes collided in the sky above the island.
BOOM!
An indescribable roar drowned out all other sound. The entire island trembled violently as an ever-expanding sphere of pure energy swallowed everything at the point of impact. The resulting shockwave slammed into the surrounding sea, carving a massive indentation in the water and raising waves tens of meters high.
When the light and dust finally settled, a deep scar had been carved through the center of the island. Kyle stood on one side of it, looking at Mihawk, who stood unharmed on the other. His expression was peculiar. He wasn't surprised that Mihawk had blocked his attack. He was… annoyed.
Why?! Kyle roared internally. Why didn't you shout out the name of your move?! I did a cool pose, I built up the emotion, I even dyed my Haki a cool color, and I shouted a cool move name! And you? You just raised your sword and went 'whoosh' and cut! You made my ultimate move look like it was blocked by your normal attack! Shouting the move name is part of the romance of a man's battle! You insensitive, hawk-eyed bastard!
On Kyle's forehead, a vein began to bulge. In a voice that was eerily calm, he asked a soul-searching question. "Hey. I'm talking to you."
Mihawk's hawk-like eyes turned toward him, a hint of inquiry in them.
"Why," Kyle's voice was filled with exasperation, "didn't you shout out the name of your move?"
Mihawk's perpetually icy face once again displayed that same stunned expression from the day before. "The… name of the move?" he asked, genuinely confused. "Shouldn't a swordsman focus all of his energy on swordsmanship itself? What is the point of giving moves flashy names?"
"Ha…" Kyle heard this and laughed, but there was no humor in it. He nodded slowly, and the expression on his face turned dangerous. "I see. I see…" Mihawk, now I have to get serious.
BOOM!
A terrifying aura, impossible to describe, erupted from Kyle. Mihawk's pupils instantly constricted. His muscles tensed, his instincts screaming at him. Black-red lightning now coiled and flashed around Ace's blade. It was no longer the scarlet of advanced Armament, but a deeper, more destructive color.
In an instant, Kyle vanished.
Too fast! Mihawk didn't even have time to use his Observation Haki. Relying purely on his tempered instincts, he brought Yoru horizontally across his chest, pouring every last bit of his Haki and strength into a desperate block.
Kyle's figure reappeared like a ghost, the "Ace" in his hand swinging down with unmatched power.
"Divine—Evasion!"
CLANG!
Time seemed to slow. The next second, the black blade Yoru was torn from Mihawk's grasp, flying backward like a black meteor. It spun through the air before embedding itself deep into the ground a hundred meters away, its hilt still trembling. Mihawk himself was sent flying, his feet carving two deep furrows in the earth before he collapsed to one knee, head bowed, breathing heavily.
Warm liquid dripped onto the dry ground. A gruesome gash stretched from his left shoulder to his right chest, so deep that bone was visible. Blood gushed from the wound, quickly staining the front of his shirt.
Kyle stood in his swinging posture as the black-red lightning around Ace gradually faded. He looked at the half-kneeling Mihawk and slowly sheathed his sword. If he hadn't shifted his blade by an inch and retracted most of his power at the last second, Mihawk would now be in two pieces.
"Why didn't you dodge?" Kyle asked, his voice calm again. With Mihawk's skill, he should have been able to at least avoid a fatal blow. But he had chosen to take the hit head-on.
Mihawk slowly raised his head, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. His face was pale, but his hawk-like eyes burned with a fire even fiercer than before. It was the shock of seeing a higher peak, mixed with an unwavering resolve.
"A wound on the back," he said, propping himself up and struggling to his feet with immense determination, "is a swordsman's disgrace."
"I am… the man who will become the World's Strongest Swordsman!"
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