Another day passed.
At sunrise, a small raft appeared at the edge of the sea.
At the front of the raft, two candles burned with green flames.
If some timid person saw that in the middle of the night, they would probably die on the spot from fright.
"Ahem... ahem..."
Morgans—more accurately, Morgans in his giant albatross form—was busily preparing for the broadcast.
He had already arranged camera Den Den Mushi all over that rocky island.
He had sent other people to do it.
He himself hadn't dared go down.
After all, he had reported White Ghost's scandalous "romantic" news several times in the papers. While he was fairly sure White Ghost wouldn't kill him...
getting beaten up was another matter.
On Nirizabello's luxury ship, one of the black-robed figures lifted her head toward the distant raft.
A clear, melodious voice drifted out.
"So that is the publicly acknowledged world's strongest swordsman?"
Though she was wearing a black robe, her wonderfully mature figure could not be hidden. A pair of long, straight legs were still exposed.
If Nirizabello hadn't known who this person was, he would have already ordered her seized and tortured to find out what sort of face was hidden beneath that robe.
Her voice alone nearly made his soul float away.
Fortunately, he managed to suppress the beast in his heart. Otherwise, things would have become troublesome.
Everyone present turned their gaze toward the raft.
Those nobles had already set fruit, desserts, and fine wine on the tables, as if they were preparing to watch a grand performance.
"Ahem... click."
With the broadcast Den Den Mushi activated, screens across the world lit up.
And naturally, the first thing on screen was the familiar sight of Morgans's face beneath his hat.
"Hello, everyone! It's your old friend Morgans! I'm delighted to once again bring you a live broadcast of this upcoming duel between Great Swordsmen!"
Morgans rambled passionately for quite a while, causing countless viewers to blacken with annoyance.
If this bird had been in front of them, some of the more violent viewers would already have cut him down.
What endless nonsense.
That was the common thought among brutes.
As for ordinary viewers, many wanted to throw rotten eggs at the screen.
Too much useless talk.
"Ahem."
Morgans cleared his throat.
"Now then, let us turn the camera to the world's strongest swordsman himself!"
As Morgans cried out excitedly, the camera slowly moved.
And there he was.
Dracule Mihawk.
Short black hair. Sharp yellow eyes like a hawk's. A trimmed beard.
He wore a black hat with white fluff, a dark wine-red patterned shirt, a black coat, white trousers, and black boots.
A cross-shaped dagger hung before his chest, and on his back rested the world's strongest black blade—Yoru.
All across the world, Mihawk's female admirers looked at the screen with hearts in their eyes.
"Lord Mihawk is so handsome!"
And it wasn't just them.
As Mihawk appeared on the screen, swordsmen everywhere unconsciously tightened their grip on their swords.
On the Moby Dick, Vista stared fixedly at Mihawk, both hands clenched around the hilts at his waist, battle intent burning on his face.
"I wonder when I'll get to cross blades with you, Mihawk."
At Marine HQ, Gion partially drew Konpira and snorted.
"World's strongest swordsman? Hmph. Let's see how he does against that bastard first."
As Morgans began recounting Mihawk's miserable journey trying to track White Ghost down, more and more viewers began feeling sorry for him.
This was just too miserable.
It was as if the heavens themselves were determined to keep the two apart.
The Den Den Mushi view then shifted to Kuro and the others by the shore, because Mihawk had arrived at the island.
For the sake of better broadcast effect, Morgans had installed camera snails there too.
Of course, White Ghost had demanded an outrageous price.
A hundred thousand Beli per good position.
For Morgans, that amount was pocket change.
And he also knew this meant White Ghost no longer minded those scandalous reports Morgans had been printing about him.
Kuro, dressed in a black suit that wrapped tightly around his powerful frame, stepped toward Mihawk in sunglasses.
"Welcome, world's strongest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk."
Mihawk raised his head toward the hill and sensed something with Observation Haki. The corners of his lips curled upward.
"So this is him giving me a chance?"
Viewers around the world were confused.
A chance?
Did fighting White Ghost require being given a chance?
Was this man's arrogance really that great?
Kuro smiled faintly and slowly shook his head.
"You misunderstand, Mr. Mihawk. Our captain said this:
'It's not easy for you to find us, and it's not easy for us to find you. Since the chance to meet is so rare, then we should squeeze every bit of value possible out of you.'"
After saying that, Kuro snapped his fingers.
Enel raised a hand, and before long silver tables and chairs appeared.
Then Enel and the others began bringing over dish after dish of exquisite food from the ship's kitchen.
Kuro adjusted his glasses.
"We men of brute force don't know how to use swords, so the least we can do is make some effort for the few crewmates who do."
Mihawk didn't stand on ceremony.
He walked straight over and began eating.
Watching the scene, a great many viewers had already begun to guess what was coming—and they became even more excited.
The major figures watching also wanted to see the strength of White Ghost's crew.
Though those fist-using hulking men hadn't appeared yet.
Click.
Señor Pink lit a cigarette.
"The world's strongest swordsman... let's see just how strong he really is."
Enel bit into one of his beloved apples.
"I also want to see what kind of swordsmanship the man White Ghost called the strongest in the world currently possesses."
A-Da and A-Er, the two simple-minded brutes, were also staring at Mihawk with burning battle intent.
Though they themselves didn't use swords, the word strongest still held irresistible appeal for them.
How considerate of him, that little White Ghost.
Shakky smoked a cigarette while sitting on the grass with Rayleigh, watching the live broadcast.
Rayleigh took a drink and watched Mihawk gracefully enjoying the food as though it were just another part of the meal.
Hearing Shakky's voice, he chuckled.
"You'll understand in a moment why that brat is being so considerate."
Good lord.
That bottle of red wine alone was worth several hundred thousand Beli.
He was really willing to spend.
Shakky wanted to ask more, but Rayleigh only kept saying, "You'll see soon enough."
So annoyed that she kicked him, Shakky turned away and focused on watching Mihawk eat instead, no longer wanting to look at that old man.
Mihawk elegantly finished the entire spread.
He was a refined person and never wasted food.
Besides, the food tasted quite good.
When Mihawk stood up, everyone watching—whether on-site or through the broadcast—knew it was finally about to begin.
All of them held their breath and stared without blinking.
Mihawk took a few steps, then turned his head toward Ain, who was standing near the ship's dragon-head prow, and glanced at the two swords resting beside her.
"Why aren't you in front?"
Ain blinked her beautiful eyes and smiled.
"My man said there was no need for me to step forward in this battle.
"He said watching the fight would be more useful than me fighting myself."
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇◇ Mihawk has finally arrived, and the world is watching.◇ New chapters have already been updated on P@treon!◇ Read ahead now to see how White Ghost's crew faces the world's strongest swordsman.◇ Unlock early access chapters here: patreon.com/StrawHatStudios