Crack! Crack!
Lightning tore across the sky again and again, turning the dark sea into broad daylight.
Moments later, the long-brewing storm finally unleashed itself as torrential rain poured down.
The middle-aged man stood on the deck without retreating into the cabin. Letting the rain drench him completely, he stared ahead without blinking.
Just a moment ago, he had been full of bold ambition. But under the flashes of lightning, a figure he had once seen in the newspapers suddenly appeared in his line of sight.
That very figure erased his confidence in an instant—replacing it with unprecedented shock and fear.
"Captain, the rain's getting heavier! You should head back inside—we'll handle things here!"
"Yeah, Captain! We'll get out of this area as fast as possible. Don't worry!"
"Shut up, all of you!"
The middle-aged man suddenly turned and roared, his voice hoarse as he shouted, "Turn the ship around immediately! NOW!!!"
"???"
The pirate beside him was completely confused and cautiously said, "Captain, we're about to leave this area. If we turn back now—"
Before he could finish, his eyes suddenly widened as he stared ahead.
At the same time—
Another bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the sea.
Under the flash of light, a strange little boat was slowly approaching.
Seated calmly on the small coffin-shaped boat was a man wearing a black hat adorned with white fluff—Dracule Mihawk.
The heavy rain poured over him without pause. His sharp, hawk-like eyes were chilling, and his cold expression sent a shiver down anyone's spine.
Of course, Mihawk wasn't trying to look cool.
Beneath that cold exterior lay a rather lazy personality.
Recently, whenever he stayed ashore, the weather was always clear. But every time he set sail, he ran straight into storms. Especially after arriving in the West Blue, his clothes and cloak had barely had a chance to dry.
He should have listened to Arashi's suggestion and built some kind of shelter on his boat.
But Mihawk, as always, did things his own way—he never took Arashi's advice.
Most importantly, a true swordsman didn't need shelter from wind and rain.
Naturally, he was once again drenched like a soaked chicken.
Mihawk was in a bad mood.
And with the relentless storms of the West Blue, his irritation had only grown stronger.
So right now—
He really wanted to cut something.
"T-That is…"
The pirate beside the captain stared in horror, his eyes nearly popping out. "It's… it's Hawkeye—Dracule Mihawk!!!"
The moment those words were spoken, the pirates—who had been orderly just seconds ago—fell into complete chaos.
More pirates spotted the approaching figure illuminated by lightning.
For pirates of any reputation, Mihawk—the world's greatest swordsman and a member of the Seven Warlords of the Sea—was no stranger.
The moment they recognized his signature coffin boat, they instinctively staggered backward in fear.
Several of the leading pirates rushed forward, shouting desperately, "Turn around! Turn around NOW!!!"
"No—"
Just as the pirates prepared to change course, the middle-aged captain suddenly calmed down.
Then he stepped forward, his face twisted with determination.
"Men, this is our trial before entering the Grand Line! If we don't even have the courage to face Mihawk, what right do we have to reach the New World?!"
"So I've decided—"
"I will challenge the man who sits at the pinnacle of the world!!!"
The pirates were completely unable to keep up with their captain's train of thought.
Just moments ago, he had been the first to order a retreat. Now he was suddenly declaring a challenge against the world's strongest swordsman?
"Captain, have you lost your mind?! That's Mihawk—the strongest swordsman in the world!"
"We're doomed! The captain's brain must've been fried by that lightning!"
"Captain, don't do this—"
But the man wasn't listening at all.
Fixing his gaze on the rapidly approaching figure, he took a deep breath, raised his axe high, and shouted:
"Mihawk, come on! I'm not afraid of you—!!"
Before he could finish—
The pirates on deck collapsed in terror.
They were absolutely certain now—their captain had been struck stupid by lightning.
At that moment—
On the coffin boat cutting through the waves, Mihawk, who had been sitting calmly, suddenly stood up. A sharp glint flashed in his hawk-like eyes.
The next second, the strongest blade in the West Blue—Yoru—was slowly unsheathed.
"AAAAHHHHH—"
"It's over! We're finished!"
"The strongest slash in the world is coming!!!"
The remaining pirates instantly panicked, like ants on a hot pan.
Mihawk, now holding his blade, showed no hesitation.
Facing the pirate ship, he raised the black blade high—
Slash—
A strike embodying the pinnacle of swordsmanship descended.
In an instant, an overwhelming pressure erupted without warning. A dazzling arc of light tore through the sky and struck the pirate captain in the blink of an eye.
Although the captain had braced himself, he had vastly overestimated his own strength.
The moment he raised his weapon, the terrifying slash swallowed him whole—then cleaved straight through the ship beneath his feet.
Crack! Crack!
The deafening sound of destruction echoed continuously.
The pirate ship, which had withstood raging winds and crashing waves, was instantly torn apart by that single slash.
Completely destroyed.
"…That felt good."
With a single strike, Mihawk reduced both man and ship to nothing, and his restless mood finally settled somewhat.
He then slowly lifted his gaze—
Toward the remaining two pirate ships.
The pirates aboard them were already petrified.
Staring at the destroyed ship, they were too terrified to run, too shocked to scream.
They simply stood there, frozen in place—
Completely consumed by despair.
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