'So strong... really so strong... So strong I can barely breathe...'
Zoro slowly closed his eyes, forcing down his racing heartbeat and making himself become completely calm.
The sound of the wind, the waves, the scent of the sea breeze, the slightest change in the angle of his opponent's dagger, every detail flowed into his awareness.
He stopped deliberately searching for openings. He stopped trying to predict attacks. He simply followed the purest instincts of a swordsman.
The moment he opened his eyes again, nothing remained in them but pure sword intent.
"Three Sword Style: Lion's Song!"
He stepped forward in a charge, all three swords striking at once as three razor-sharp arcs slashed through the air.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
A rapid series of metallic clashes echoed across the deck as Zoro's attack speed suddenly accelerated.
It wasn't that he had become faster. His state of mind had changed. His techniques were no longer bound by fixed forms. Every slash was the sharpest edge his instincts could produce.
He could even sense Mihawk's blocking path in advance, the fighting spirit in his eyes burning crimson.
'Thirty-first slash. Thirty-second slash. Thirty-third slash...'
Clang!
As the thirty-fourth slash fell, a faint halo of light suddenly appeared around the blade, clear and razor-sharp.
The strike landed heavily against the dagger, its power perfectly condensed.
Creak!
A thin crack spread across the wooden planks beneath Mihawk's feet.
Both of them froze for an instant.
The hawk-like eyes that had remained calm from beginning to end widened slightly for the first time, surprise flashing through them.
"Cutting steel," He quietly spoke the two words, genuine surprise in his voice.
"I didn't expect you to touch that doorway right in front of me."
The path of a swordsman advanced step by step.
Beyond an ordinary swordsman was a Swordmaster.
The greatest difference between the two lay in the intent to cut steel.
The blade could cut steel. Its intent could pierce armor.
Countless swordsmen spent their entire lives unable to reach that threshold.
Yet under the crushing pressure of this one-sided battle, he had been forced across it.
Mihawk gently spun the dagger in his hand. The laziness completely vanished from his eyes, replaced by the faintest trace of seriousness.
"Kid, I finally see something in your blade."
He raised the dagger, his focus sharpening as his entire presence drew in before condensing.
"Take this slash seriously."
Clang!
The dagger flashed.
The slash was so fast that Zoro couldn't even follow its path.
Instinctively, he crossed all three swords in front of himself, pouring everything into defense.
BOOM!
The force poured through the dagger, traveled down all three blades, and slammed into Zoro's body.
The power was gentle, yet utterly overwhelming.
In an instant, the sword in his mouth and the one in his left hand flew from his grasp. Only Wado Ichimonji remained suspended for a brief moment before spinning away and stabbing into the distant deck.
The impact forced Zoro back seven or eight steps.
His legs gave out, and he dropped heavily onto one knee.
Blood surged into his throat. He fought it for a long while before finally swallowing the metallic taste back down.
The entire sea restaurant fell silent.
Not even a pin could have been heard.
Throughout the fight, Zoro had used everything he had, yet he had never managed to touch Mihawk, not even the corner of his clothes.
"It's over."
Mihawk lowered his hand. The dagger hung casually at his side once more as he returned to his earlier calm.
"You've already reached the threshold of a Swordmaster. Achieving this at your age exceeds my expectations."
"Stand up. Today's duel is enough."
Still kneeling on one knee, Zoro remained silent for more than ten seconds.
Then he slowly pushed himself to his feet without retrieving his scattered swords.
He stood empty-handed.
His back trembled slightly, but it remained straight.
Slowly, he turned around and presented his back to Mihawk.
Mihawk narrowed his eyes slightly, "What are you doing?"
"Senior Mihawk," Without turning around, Zoro reached back and tore off the brown coat on his shoulders, exposing his sweat-soaked back to the sea breeze.
The young man's back was lean and strong, covered in countless small scars from past battles, yet perfectly upright.
"Give me one slash."
He spoke each word clearly, his voice low but unwavering, "Leave the exact same scar on my back as the one you carry."
Mihawk paused, surprise filling his eyes, "Do you understand what you're asking for? A wound on a swordsman's back is a disgrace that can never be erased."
Every swordsman considered a wound on the back a mark of shame.
It was proof of defeat, of fleeing, of surrender.
A lifelong joke among fellow swordsmen.
"I know," Zoro answered without the slightest hesitation.
"I used to think the same. A swordsman with a wound on his back has lost. It's a disgrace for life."
"But after seeing you... I found another answer."
He lowered his head slightly, though his back remained straight, "The scar on your back isn't disgrace. It's proof of the road you've walked. It's the marker that guided you as you looked toward the summit and kept moving forward."
"I may not understand that realm yet. But I know that if I bear the same scar, then one day, I'll understand the world of swordsmanship that you see."
Mihawk quietly looked at the straight-backed youth.
A faint, gentle smile slowly appeared on his usually cold face.
For a moment, it was as though he saw himself many years ago, that ignorant, stubborn young man standing alone on a broken ship.
"Kid, tell me your name."
"Roronoa Zoro."
The young man's voice rang out firmly.
"A good name."
Mihawk nodded lightly.
The next moment, the dagger flashed.
Before Zoro could even sense the movement, a precise and razor-sharp sword intent had already cut across his back.
Slash!
Blood burst out instantly.
A deep diagonal wound stretched from his shoulder blade to his waist, so deep that bone was visible.
Zoro let out a muffled grunt.
His legs gave way, and he fell face-first onto the deck.
Dark red blood spread across his back, staining a large section of the wooden planks.
He neither screamed nor cried out.
Instead, a relieved smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
Whoosh!
The dagger spun deftly around Mihawk's wrist before he casually flicked it away.
Thunk!
The dagger embedded itself precisely into the deck beside Zoro's neck, less than an inch from his throat.
The blade trembled slightly before becoming completely still.
The scene perfectly overlapped with what had happened beneath Reverse Mountain more than ten years ago.
Back then, Gion had also pinned her dagger into the deck beside him.
Mihawk walked over slowly and looked down at the young man lying on the deck.
"Roronoa Zoro, I will wait for your challenge. The next time we meet, I will draw my true sword and fight you with everything I have."
"Don't disappoint me!"
With that, he didn't stop.
He stepped over the fallen Zoro and walked toward Kuina, who was waiting at the restaurant entrance.
With every step, the sword intent he had kept restrained rose another level.
The lazy, carefree aura around him disappeared completely, replaced by the razor-sharp presence of one who stood at the very peak.
Looking at Zoro lying on the ground, Mihawk finally let go of the obsession that had haunted him for years.
That naive, stubborn fool from the past had long since changed.
Now it was his turn to take up his blade and pursue his own destination.
"Senior Mihawk, please teach me!"
Kuina rested a hand on the hilt at her waist and performed a flawless swordsman's salute.
She stood calmly, her expression composed.
Only her eyes shone with a light that had been absent ever since she entered the restaurant.
The next second, without any warning, without any opening stance...
Ding!
An impossibly crisp metallic blast erupted hundreds of meters away over the sea.
The two figures had already collided on the distant ocean.
No one could tell when they had left the deck, or when they had crossed those hundreds of meters.
Only the clear sound of blades clashing remained on the sea breeze.
Buzz!
At the point where they collided, the seawater seemed to be scooped away by an invisible force.
Then towering waves burst out from that point in every direction.
Lines carved across the sea by the aftershocks of their slashes traced strange arcs.
From afar, the entire ocean looked like a giant blue cloth that had been violently crumpled.
By the time the enormous wave reached the sea restaurant, it had risen dozens of meters high, about to overturn the entire ship.
"What a pain."
Sanji removed the cigarette from his mouth, clicked his tongue, and lazily snapped his fingers to the side.
A doorway silently appeared out of thin air between the restaurant and the incoming wave.
The massive wall of water, dozens of meters high, was instantly swallowed through the door.
Water roared on the other side.
Not a single drop splashed onto the deck.
The entire ship remained as steady as if it were docked in a harbor.
The moment the door closed, the sea returned to calm.
"S-So amazing!"
Luffy clung to the railing, his eyes as wide as saucers, sparkling so brightly they looked ready to burn those two afterimages into his memory.
Unfortunately, he couldn't see anything clearly.
All he could hear was the distant chorus of metal striking metal.
The two fighters had become nothing more than blurred shadows in his vision.
Sometimes they leaped from wave crests.
Sometimes they ran across the sea.
Sometimes they shot into the clouds.
Sometimes they fell together onto the ocean's surface, exploding into towering sprays.
"So... this is your full strength?", Lying in a pool of blood, Zoro muttered hoarsely to himself.
His hand unconsciously clenched into a fist, his nails digging deep into his palm.
His eyes remained locked on the distant battlefield.
He didn't dare blink.
It felt as though he would miss something important if he did.
Yet no matter how hard he stared, all he could see were two black shadows darting back and forth.
Nothing else.
He couldn't even follow their movements, much less analyze or understand their sword techniques.
Even a tiny trace of the aftershock was enough to tear his current self in half.
"Kid, don't underestimate yourself too much."
Carina walked over with a light smile, lazily twirling a loose strand of hair around her crimson-painted fingernail.
She casually reached out and dragged a nearby chair over with a scrape before setting it down with a thump.
Then she turned and lightly kicked Zoro in the waist.
The perfectly controlled force lifted him into the air.
He flipped halfway around before landing squarely on the chair with a soft plop, ending up in the perfect position to watch the distant battlefield.
Satisfied, Carina clapped her hands, lifted the hem of her skirt, and sat down in another chair.
"You're only D-rank right now, yet you're already trying to challenge S-rank fighters. There are four whole ranks between you. The deck's cold anyway. I'm always happy to help, so since there's such a big gap, you might as well stay here and watch."
"If they can do it, so can I."
Ignoring the pain wracking his body, Zoro forced the words out through gritted teeth.
His bright eyes remained fixed on the battlefield as he forced himself to follow the rhythm of the two afterimages clashing.
But the longer he watched, the more that gap seemed like an endless mountain.
At their speed, he couldn't even tell which sword Kuina was using.
He could barely make out Mihawk's enormous black cross-shaped sword, swinging in broad arcs that carved black crescents through the air.
Each time Kuina met it, however, only a slender silver flash quietly passed through those heavy black arcs.
One black.
One silver.
One heavy.
One light.
The two streams of sword light intertwined across the sea, collided, exploded apart, then separated again.
"They weren't this strong when they were your age."
Carina crossed her arms and lazily crossed one leg over the other.
"Kuina's about the same age as you, and she's already a genuine S-rank. Mihawk also met Sister Gion when he was around your age, and he was already A-rank back then."
She paused before curling her red lips into a faint smile, "In other words, they didn't win because they worked harder. They were already ahead of you at the starting line."
"They're only one step ahead. I'll catch up."
Zoro clenched his fists so tightly that even his lips turned pale from gritting his teeth.
"One step ahead becomes every step ahead," Carina answered unhurriedly.
There wasn't a trace of mockery in her voice.
Instead, she sounded surprisingly serious.
"Why do you think everyone else is standing still, waiting for you to catch them?"
"Lord Rosse raised this world's ceiling by an entire level. The strongest people in the world now are SSS-rank. That's a whole two dimensions above the S-rank you're watching right now."
She held up two slender fingers, "Ten years ago, S-rank really was the limit. Back then, if you trained hard enough, you genuinely had a chance of catching them."
"But things are different now. S-rank is no longer the end. If I'm not mistaken, within a few years, both of the people you're watching will touch the threshold of SS-rank."
She turned her head.
The teasing look in her eyes had disappeared, replaced by a trace of pity, "And you?"
"What are you going to rely on to reach SS-rank?"
"Hard work? In this world's thousands of years of history, only a handful of people have ever climbed to S-rank through hard work and a bit of fate. Can you guarantee you'll work harder than they did?"
"Opportunity? Sorry, but every opportunity in this world is now in the World Government's hands. A swordsman from the East Blue has nothing to do with any of them."
"Some people...", Her voice gradually softened, "Are born as this world's favorites."
"And some people are born destined to be nothing more than ordinary."
"So tell me."
"How do you plan to bridge that gap, Roronoa Zoro?"
Everything Carina said was true.
Precisely because she understood those truths so well, she hated this world from the bottom of her heart.
This world left no path for ordinary people.
On the contrary, Rosse's arrival had given those at the bottom at least a tiny sliver of hope.
Even if, in the eyes of both Rosse and the World Government, so-called ordinary people were nothing more than tools for harvesting desire.