"Another surprise?"
"Is this the choice the system mentioned—the one that will shape my future?"
Hearing the prompt in his mind, Gawain snapped back to focus, his expression flickering with excitement.
Three advanced swordsmanship abilities appeared before him. Ideally, he'd choose all of them. But reality wasn't that kind. He could only pick one.
For a moment, he hesitated.
This choice would influence not just his current strength, but the trajectory of his future combat potential. It could mark the first major turning point in his development—so he had to choose carefully.
Each ability was easy to understand from the name alone.
"Iron Cutting" enhances the raw power of swordsmanship. Just like when Zoro fought Mr. 1—Daz Bonez—in Alabasta. A true swordsman can cut through steel as easily as air.
"Flying Blade" refers to air slashes—the dominant ranged attack for swordsmen in the late stages of the pirate world. When mastered, it can even cleave mountains or split islands, as Hawkeye Mihawk once demonstrated.
Gawain's gaze lingered on the third option: Godspeed.
"Godspeed enhances the speed of one's attacks. In battle, even a slight edge in speed can determine victory—or survival."
After weighing the options, Gawain's eyes narrowed, locking in on Godspeed.
"My current opponents don't use Armament Haki, and the Devil Fruits that boost physical strength aren't common in the East Blue."
"While Iron Cutting is valuable for high-level battles, it doesn't offer much benefit at this stage."
"As for Flying Blade… that's a late-game technique. No matter how flashy a flying slash looks, it doesn't compare to a blade at close range. If I ever need a ranged option, I can use a cannon—or learn from Ashina Sword Saint and his methods."
"What's the point of calling yourself a master swordsman if you carry a gun but don't master the sword?"
"So, right now… speed will help me the most."
With that clarity, Gawain made his decision. He selected Godspeed without further hesitation. The system panel vanished.
The next instant, heat surged through his body. His skin flushed red as steam rose from his pores. His fingers lengthened slightly, becoming more agile and defined. Muscles across his body began to shift and grow—sharper, leaner, faster. Every fiber of his being was refining itself, evolving into something closer to perfection.
A few breaths later—
His temperature subsided. A puff of white steam hissed from his lips as he exhaled, eyes slowly opening.
And what he saw took his breath away.
"This is…"
Everything in his vision had slowed.
Falling leaves drifted lazily through the air. Waves rolled onto the shore in slow motion. Even tree branches swaying in the wind moved with agonizing sluggishness.
A mosquito buzzed past him.
Gawain could see the flutter of its wings, the path of its flight, the shift in momentum as it darted through the air. Every detail was painfully crisp.
"It's not the world that slowed down…"
"It's my perception that sped up!"
Without thinking, he drew his sword.
Swish!
The silver flash of steel cut through the air. In the span of a blink, the three movements—drawing the sword, striking, and resheathing—were completed.
By the time he registered what happened, the mosquito had already been split in two. Its severed body floated down, while the delicate wings were torn from the center and carried away by the wind.
Gawain stared at the sword in his hand, pupils narrowing.
"I… did that?"
"Too fast."
"It happened before I could even fully react. With this kind of attack speed…"
He imagined Morgan again—the same brute who once bested his predecessor. A grin tugged at Gawain's lips.
"Now, I could cut off his head with a single strike!"
The improvement brought by Godspeed wasn't just one-dimensional. It enhanced everything—from neural reflexes to perception, to the subconscious instinct to draw and swing.
That mosquito strike—draw, slash, and sheathe—had taken less than 0.2 seconds.
A speed that, in Gawain's old world, would have exceeded the theoretical limit of human capability.
And yet, he could feel it—this wasn't his limit.
Once he grew more familiar with his transformed body, he could go even faster.
Much faster!
Now, every time he swung his sword, it carried a speed so exaggerated it bordered on unnatural.
And in combat, as long as you could breach your opponent's defenses, speed alone could decide life or death.
Gawain tossed a small stone into the air, his blade flashing in a silent arc as he danced with practiced precision.
By the time the stone hit the ground, it had been sliced into dozens of fragments, each one with a flawlessly smooth cut.
"Thirteen strikes before it landed… this speed is already comparable to a light rifle. That's more than enough for battles in the East Blue."
He couldn't hide his excitement.
The unease and uncertainty he'd felt since arriving in this world were finally being washed away—replaced by the exhilaration of tangible growth.
And this was just the beginning.
"If the system grants a new skill trait every five levels, then once my swordsmanship reaches level ten, I'll unlock the next one."
He paused, then frowned thoughtfully.
"No… my physical strength is about to hit level five first. If the crew continues improving at this rate, I should meet the upgrade conditions in half a month at most."
"I wonder… what kind of branching ability will physical strength unlock?"
Dozens of possibilities flashed through his mind, but that's all they were—speculation.
Fortunately, there was a plan in motion. Once he seized Morgan's ship and found a secure location for his men to train for a few weeks, his physical experience bar would fill naturally.
Suppressing his wandering thoughts, Gawain shifted his focus back to his newly enhanced speed.
He practiced sword techniques silently, working through one move at a time with relentless precision. In his mind, he used Morgan as a sparring partner—his strikes sharp, efficient, unrelenting.
Time passed.
Before he knew it, the night had deepened. Sweat clung to his skin, glistening under the moonlight.
Stripping off his shirt, Gawain revealed a body carved with defined, symmetrical muscle. With his height towering past two meters, his physique resembled that of an ancient Greek sculpture—powerful, elegant, statuesque.
His current form closely resembled the Gawain of the Knights of the Round Table—one of the classic "Prince Charming" archetypes. It was no wonder the princess of the Goa Kingdom had been unable to restrain herself.
With a casual motion, Gawain slicked back the stray hair on his forehead, mimicking a popular hairstyle from the second dimension. The motion revealed his sharp, handsome features and lent his appearance a touch more edge—no longer the gentle nobleman, but a warrior with presence.
After wiping himself down, he tidied his appearance and made his way toward a cave.
The pirate ship was too far gone—damaged beyond repair.
So Gawain had ordered the cannons dismantled and the ship's supplies transferred to a hidden cave nearby. After carefully waterproofing the ammunition, the cave had become a makeshift base of operations.
Before long, the entrance came into view.
Inside, most of the pirates were already asleep. Their loud snoring echoed through the cavern, creating a strange harmony with the crackling fire. Even the posted watchmen had leaned back-to-back, eyes closed in a light nap.
Gawain scanned the group with a frown.
Everyone assigned to the cave was present—except Damila.
By all logic, a wounded crew member should've been resting here under the care of the ship's doctor.
"Guarding the ship?" he murmured.
"That doesn't make sense. There's enough manpower. Why would they assign someone injured to stand watch?"
Meanwhile — At the Estuary
A pirate ship with a shattered mast sat quietly at anchor, silhouetted against the night sky.
Scorch marks riddled the hull, and the keel was split nearly in half. One look was enough to know the ship was no longer seaworthy.
From the deck, Damila leapt down silently. His movements were careful, precise. After scanning the surroundings and confirming no one was nearby, he reached under his shirt and pulled out a small pendant shaped like a seagull.
He twisted it open, revealing a miniature Den Den Mushi hidden inside.
"This is Private Damila," he whispered, voice low but steady.
"Reporting the location of Knight Gawain. He's currently stationed sixteen miles from the 16th Branch…"