The seas of the New World had just endured a brief yet merciless episode of "divine judgment."
The wreckage of a three-masted pirate ship was slowly sinking beneath the waves, its charred planks still crackling as arcs of electricity danced across the blackened wood.
Enel stood atop a remaining mast, lazily yawning. With a casual flick of his hand, he tossed the last pirate captain—burned pitch-black by lightning—into the sea like a piece of trash.
He then dug a finger into his ear, his face full of boredom and irritation."Tch… this is getting more and more dull…Have the roaches in these waters already learned to run the moment they hear the name of a god?Not a single opponent worth fighting—this is boring as hell!"
As he complained about the slump in business, idly considering whether he should find a place to nap—
—or head back and beat on that muscle-headed freak Barrett to pass the time—
his powerful Mantra (Observation Haki) suddenly sensed something.
Far in the distance, a small vessel came into view—calling it a ship felt generous. It looked more like a coffin drifting upon the sea.
It glided forward at an unnervingly steady pace, silently cutting through the waves as it headed straight toward him.
There were no sails. No oars. No visible means of propulsion. It looked as though it were merely drifting with the current—
yet its course was unnervingly straight.
"Oh?" Enel raised an eyebrow with interest, resting his golden staff on his shoulder as his gaze pierced the distance and locked onto the lone figure aboard the small boat.
Short black hair. A neatly trimmed beard. A cold, stern expression.
He wore a simple white shirt, black trousers, and short boots.
Most striking of all were his eyes—sharp, yellow, piercing like those of an eagle.
His style was minimal, but he exuded the unmistakable aura of a transcendent powerhouse. And strapped across his back—
was a massive black blade shaped like a cross.
The sword was broad and pitch-black, as dark as night. Unsheathed, simply carried in silence.
"Traveling alone?" Enel's lips curled into a grin filled with amusement."Looks like someone who isn't complete trash finally showed up, huh?A black blade, too… interesting!"
Crackle!Lightning exploded.
Enel's figure transformed into a blazing bolt of lightning, and in the blink of an eye—
he appeared directly in front of the steadily advancing small boat, crouched midair above the sea, blocking its path.
Violent lightning pressure surged outward, fine arcs of electricity rippling across the surface of the ocean.
"Hey!" Enel pointed his golden staff rudely at the man aboard the boat, chin tilted upward, his voice dripping with divine condescension."You. You're a pirate, right?"
The man on the boat—Dracule Mihawk, now known to the world as "Hawk-Eyes"—slightly furrowed his brow.
His eagle-like gaze swept across the lightning crackling around Enel's body. There was no fear in his eyes—only faint displeasure at having his solitude disturbed.
"I'm not here to cause trouble," Mihawk said calmly. "I'm here to find Gern."
After a brief pause, he added,"For a… long-overdue promise."
The five-year promise between Hawk-Eyes and Gern had been made in the year 1495 of the Sea Circle Calendar, on Lilikaya Island in the West Blue.
He should have found Gern in 1500 and completed that duel between swordsmen.
But the tides of fate proved far more violent than he had anticipated.
In 1498, Gern had captured the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger, with his own hands—shaking the entire world.
The following year, Mihawk personally witnessed the end of that era at Loguetown.
He had stood among the crowd beneath the execution platform.
At the time, his blade had not yet become a black blade, and his swordsmanship had yet to reach its ultimate form.
Watching Roger face death with calm defiance, recalling Gern's feat of capturing the Pirate King—
he understood, with painful clarity:
I'm not qualified yet.
And so, he did not keep the appointment.
Instead, he returned to the path of training.
Crossing the seas. Battling powerful foes. Tempering his blade with his very soul—
until the black blade was forged, its edge capable of cleaving the heavens.
Now, it was the year 1505.
Ten years had passed in the blink of an eye.
The promise was five years overdue—but the light at the tip of his sword was colder than ever, closer than ever to its peak.
"Looking for Gern?" Enel's grin widened, tinged with mockery."A challenger, huh? Hmph. If you want to challenge that man, you'll have to get past God first!"
He straightened up, golden staff pointing at Mihawk as lightning erupted violently around him, his aura surging skyward."I'll be the one to see whether you're even qualified!Lose—and sink to the bottom of the sea to repent for your arrogance! Yahahaha!"
Faced with Enel's wildly arrogant declaration, Mihawk's response was utterly calm.
He simply—slowly, steadily—raised his hand and grasped the hilt of the massive black blade on his back.
That simple motion caused the air around them to instantly grow heavy and razor-sharp!
"In that case…"Mihawk spoke evenly, his tone unwavering."I'll have to ask you to step aside first.
After all, only by defeating him will I truly become the world's greatest swordsman."
His words were calm, yet brimming with absolute confidence—as though he were stating an undeniable fact.
Naturally, such disregard and understatement completely enraged Enel, whose personality was arrogant and utterly self-centered by nature!
He was not the kind of man who patiently reasoned or tested his opponents.
"Arrogant mortal! You dare belittle divine might? I'll teach you a lesson!Seventy Million Volts—Thunderbird!"
With a furious roar, Enel didn't bother wasting another word. His golden staff slammed against the thunder drum on his right shoulder!
BOOM!Deafening thunder exploded as violent lightning instantly condensed into a massive, ferocious azure thunderbird!
With a shrill cry, it lunged forward, carrying devastating energy as it tore toward Mihawk on the small boat!
With Enel's current strength, this single strike was more than enough to obliterate a large battleship!
Yet facing the lightning-fast, violent thunderbird, Mihawk's hawk-like eyes didn't waver in the slightest.
He didn't even make any grand movement—only casually swung the arm gripping Yoru forward.
The motion was plain and unadorned—
yet so fast it surpassed the limits of visual perception!
Slash!
A crescent-shaped green slash—compressed to the absolute extreme, as though it could cut even light itself—flashed into existence!
There was no earth-shaking explosion. No violent collision of energies.
The thunderbird, terrifying in momentum, was split cleanly in two the instant it touched the thin slash—
like an illusion severed by the sharpest blade.
It let out a dying shriek before collapsing into countless scattered currents of electricity, dispersing into the sea breeze.
The entire process was silent.
Clean.
Suffocatingly precise.
Mihawk slowly returned the massive black blade to a horizontal position before him, his stance as steady as ever—like he had merely swatted away a fly.
He looked at Enel, whose face showed shock for the first time, and spoke in the same flat tone:
"If that's the extent of your attack, then…"
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the lightning beneath Enel's feet—where his Logia form hovered slightly above the sea—and then over the vast ocean below, calmly stating:
"As a Devil Fruit user, choosing to face me above the endless sea is not a wise decision.
This isn't a fair fight—and you have no chance of winning."
This wasn't mockery.
It was a cold, almost indifferent conclusion drawn from absolute judgment of strength.
The shock on Enel's face quickly twisted into humiliation—and a trace of solemn caution.
Though his arrogance remained unchanged, years of experience had taught him to think.
That seemingly casual yet razor-sharp slash had instantly made him realize—
the man carrying the black blade before him was unfathomably deep, especially in swordsmanship.
At the very least, he was no weaker than that troublesome woman of Kuja.
He might even be… stronger.
And the key point Mihawk raised was undeniable.
Enel was the Rumble-Rumble Fruit user. While he could rely on his powers to hover briefly—
beneath him lay the sea, the natural bane of all Devil Fruit users.
If that kind of slash forced him into the water, the consequences would be unthinkable.
"Hmph!" Enel snorted irritably, forcibly suppressing the urge to immediately go all out.
He knew it would be difficult to deal with this troublesome swordsman easily today.
"Damn swordsman… wait for me on the island…" he muttered under his breath as the lightning around him flared once more.
But this time, he wasn't attacking.
Instead, he transformed into an incomparably radiant bolt of lightning and shot straight upward—
then streaked away at a speed far beyond what the naked eye could track, heading toward the forward island outpost of the newly rebuilt G-10 branch!
Crackle!Lightning split the sky once more—and vanished in an instant.
On the sea, only Mihawk remained, standing alone upon his small boat.
He glanced in the direction Enel had disappeared, then looked toward the faint outline of an island on the distant horizon. A flash of understanding crossed his sharp eyes.
He did not pursue.
Nor did Enel's departure stir any visible emotion within him.
Or perhaps—seeing Enel already standing upon the island's shore, he hesitated slightly.
Or perhaps he simply hadn't expected the distance to still be so great—
especially against the opposing current…
...