"'Blasphemer'—Bahr... or should I call you Uchiha Obito?"
Crocodile brushed the dust off his coat, sand particles trickling from his fingertips as his voice turned icy.
Bahr raised an eyebrow but didn't respond.
"No wonder you looked familiar." Crocodile sneered, crushing the cigar between his teeth before spitting out a mix of red tobacco and saliva. "You're the bastard who called me trash back in Alabasta."
He took half a step forward, the sand around him suddenly boiling like a sandstorm whipped up by a gale, carrying an overwhelming momentum. "Seeing Miss Valentine and Mr. 5 following you around finally made it click—you've been playing me from the start!"
The memory of being ambushed by that masked man's Spatial ability and publicly humiliated now lodged in his throat like grit, grinding painfully in his chest.
Crocodile's burning glare fixed on Bahr as a half-meter-long Sand Blade formed in his palm, its edge gleaming with undisguised killing intent. Clearly, he intended to settle both old and new grudges today.
Bahr found his bristling reaction almost amusing. "What, looking for a fight?"
This guy really held a grudge. Back then, Crocodile had been the one to provoke and call him "trash" first, yet now it was somehow Bahr's fault. The hypocrisy was staggering.
"A fight?" Crocodile's laughter was as rough as sandpaper scraping metal. "I'm going to grind you into dust and let you taste what it's like to be called 'trash'!"
The Sand Blade tore through the air with a howling gale, reducing scattered rocks to powder in its wake, even leaving a faint afterimage where it split the atmosphere.
Just as Bahr raised his hand to block, a bolt of blue-white lightning streaked in from the side, crackling as it dispersed the Sand Blade.
Electricity danced between the grains of sand, igniting arcs of blue light that snapped and popped.
"Perfect timing—I've got anger to spare!" Enel hovered midair, lightning flickering in his pupils, his tone arrogant. "This guy's one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, right? Let this god teach him a lesson!"
Bahr arched an eyebrow and casually withdrew his hand, stepping back.
He never liked unnecessary bloodshed. If someone else wanted to handle it, all the better.
Crocodile's face darkened at the interruption, his glare shifting to Enel. "Who the hell are you, brat? You dare interfere in my business?"
"Brat?" Enel scoffed, a sphere of lightning forming in his palm, its blue-white glow illuminating the arrogance in his eyes. "Before this god's divine punishment, an old fossil like you should know your place!"
Before the words finished, several lightning bolts shot forth like vipers, aiming straight for Crocodile's face.
Crocodile stomped the ground, instantly turning it into quicksand that absorbed the electricity. Simultaneously, he manipulated the sand into a massive hand, crushing toward Enel with overwhelming force.
"Pathetic tricks!" Enel's body dissolved into lightning as he teleported behind Crocodile. "30 Million Volt Thunderbird!"
The blue-white Thunderbird tore through the air, slamming into the sand hand with scorching heat. The explosion sent a storm of dust billowing, blotting out the sky.
Crocodile's sneer echoed through the sandstorm as he secretly guided fine grains behind Enel, shaping them into spikes aimed at his back—only for the surrounding electricity to detect them first.
The Thunderbird whirled around, blasting the spikes into dust. The swirling sand and crackling lightning wove a chaotic net in the air.
"Hiding in the sand to play dirty?" Enel's voice buzzed with electricity, dripping with disdain. "How pathetic!"
Crocodile's face twisted at the jab. "Bahr, you coward! Hiding on the sidelines—what kind of man does that?!"
Leaning against a broken wall, Bahr watched their exchange with disinterest, ignoring the insult entirely. The one getting roasted by lightning was Crocodile—why should he bother stepping in?
That said, Crocodile's presence now was far sharper than during their Alabasta encounter. His edge was keener, his killing intent thicker.
Then again, without that drive, how could he hold his place among the Seven Warlords? How else would he dare challenge the likes of Doflamingo, Hawkeye Mihawk, or even Akainu?
Seemed like his "training" in Impel Down had truly remade him.
At the center of the battlefield, lightning and quicksand collided in dazzling bursts. Enel's arrogance clashed with Crocodile's ruthlessness, creating a spectacle that stood out even amid the surrounding chaos.
Just as Bahr settled in to enjoy the show, a glint of cold light caught his eye—a vertical crescent-shaped slash skimming the ground, its silver gleam blinding as it split the air with a shrill whistle, leaving a shallow trench in its wake.
"Flying Slash!" His eyebrow twitched as he instinctively drew the Black Sword Autumn Water, its blade tracing a smooth arc before releasing a pitch-black slash.
The two crescents collided midair, silver and black light twisting violently, screeching like grinding metal until the sound rattled eardrums.
"BOOM—!"
The shockwave erupted like a miniature storm, hurling debris skyward and toppling distant soldiers. The impact crashed against the broken wall, kicking up a cloud of dust that stung the eyes.
"Not bad."
A deep voice cut through the haze, calm as still water.
Bahr looked up to see a figure standing atop the rubble nearby. Black hair tied neatly back, a short, well-trimmed beard framing his chin, a black top hat adorned with white fluff resting atop his head. A wine-red patterned shirt peeked from beneath a black vest, white trousers accentuating long legs—the man carried himself like nobility, utterly out of place in this blood-soaked battlefield.
But his eyes stood out most—amber pupils sharp as a hawk's, fixed unwaveringly on Bahr, as if seeing through everything.
"Hawkeye—Dracule Mihawk." Bahr's grip tightened on his hilt, pupils narrowing. "What's the meaning of this?"
Mihawk's gaze lingered briefly on Autumn Water, appraising it like a work of art, before lifting to meet Bahr's eyes. His tone was flat but carried undeniable challenge. "Your swordsmanship is decent. Entertain me—this war is dull."
"..."
The world's greatest swordsman had just issued a challenge.
Bahr's thumb rubbed the hilt of Autumn Water, his voice laced with irritation. "Hey, I'm not here to amuse you."
Mihawk's expression remained impassive, as if the refusal meant nothing. Slowly, he raised his Black Blade "Yoru," its faint hum resonating with his fighting spirit. The condensed sword intent thickened the air around them.
"Same difference." Those amber eyes locked onto Bahr, his tone casual yet unyielding. "This war is tedious. Humor me."
Bahr was speechless.
He'd been hoping for admiring glances from beautiful women, not battle invitations from men. Fighting was the last thing he enjoyed—unlike this guy, who treated life-and-death duels as casual pastimes.
Still, he understood Mihawk's perspective.
For the world's strongest swordsman, ordinary victories held no thrill. Only opponents worthy of drawing his blade could ease the loneliness ingrained in his bones.
Like a master hunter forever pursuing worthy prey, a swordsman's solitude could only be dispelled through clashes with the strong.
"What a pain." Bahr clicked his tongue, glancing at the still-brawling Crocodile and Enel before eyeing the eager Mihawk. His head throbbed.
In such a short time, three Warlords had come knocking. The perks of fame were nowhere to be seen, while trouble swarmed like sharks scenting blood.
He suddenly missed the days when no one knew him—traveling, fishing for clams... Now, he had grown men chasing him down for fights. Absolutely exhausting.
"Can't catch a damn break," Bahr muttered under his breath. Yet his grip on the hilt didn't loosen. With a flick of his fingers, only a faint Spatial Ripple remained where he'd stood—he was already gone.
He had no quarrel with Mihawk. No need for a death match against the world's greatest swordsman, a monster who regularly sparred with Red Hair. Fighting him would be exhausting—better to dodge while he could.
Mihawk's blade froze mid-motion, amber eyes flashing with surprise before darkening like frost.
He stared at the spot where Bahr vanished, brow furrowing. The sword intent gathered around him stuttered, like a stream abruptly dammed.
He'd thought he'd finally found a worthy opponent to liven up this dull war, only for the man to slip away like an eel.
What was this? Lack of confidence in his swordsmanship? A man bold enough to challenge the heavens, wielding formidable Conqueror's Haki—how could he lack backbone?
"Coward." The low growl slipped through clenched teeth, genuine anger igniting in those amber eyes for the first time.
In all his battles, no one had ever mocked him like this. This wasn't retreat—it was outright disrespect.
To a swordsman, avoiding battle was worse than defeat.
The air around Mihawk turned frigid. "Yoru" vibrated in its sheath, resonating with its master's fury. His sword intent grew so dense it nearly materialized.
Whirling around, his hawk-like gaze swept the battlefield, the distant thunder and sandstorm fading into background noise.
"Run once, run forever?" he murmured, voice dripping with ice.
In a blur, he shot toward where Bahr had disappeared, "Yoru's" sheath cutting a cold arc through the wind—his determination absolute.
Never before had the world's greatest swordsman been so fixated on hunting down an opponent. Not for victory, but to reclaim the dignity that had been slighted.
He would find Bahr. And in the clearest terms, show him: true strength never flees from battle. This duel was unavoidable.
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