Kapitel 100: The Meeting of Legends: Mihawk's Trial-2

Dracule Mihawk faced the old man on the deserted island, his heart pounding with exhilaration. He hadn't felt this excited in ages. As he gazed at the old man's floating sword, Mihawk knew he was facing an opponent beyond anything he had encountered before. Yet, despite the difference in power, Mihawk couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and determination. This was his chance to truly test the limits of his skills.

The old man, who had introduced himself only as the "Old Shadow," chuckled. "The warm-up is over, my boy," he said, his voice resonant and filled with authority. "Now, you have one hour. Use everything in your arsenal. Let this old man witness the might of the new generation."

With that, he released a wave of Conqueror's Haki, shaking the ground beneath Mihawk's feet, and coated his sword in an intense layer of Armament Haki. The blade turned black with golden lightning crackling across its surface.

Mihawk's eyes gleamed with excitement. With a battle cry, he leapt forward, brandishing Yoru. "Let's see how you handle this!" he roared, unleashing a powerful slash.

"Midnight Gale!" he called, sending a sharp, crescent slash of dark energy toward the old man. The Old Shadow merely waved his blade, dissipating Mihawk's attack as if it were smoke.

Not deterred, Mihawk followed up with a quick succession of strikes, each one more intense than the last.

"Dusk Tempest!" Mihawk shouted, unleashing a series of spinning strikes that sliced through the air like the gusts of a storm. The Old Shadow countered each one with a flick of his wrist, sending waves of his own energy slashes—"Eternal Moonfall"—that collided with Mihawk's attacks in mid-air, creating shockwaves that shattered nearby rocks.

As they clashed, Mihawk felt his excitement grow. The old man was countering his every move effortlessly, but Mihawk could sense the depth of his opponent's skill. The Old Shadow was a master beyond masters, his movements sharp and refined, as if he was anticipating Mihawk's every attack before it was even launched.

After a relentless onslaught that lasted nearly fifty minutes, Mihawk was drenched in sweat, his muscles aching. His breath came in ragged gasps as he glanced up at his opponent. The Old Shadow stood calmly, his expression unchanged, as if he hadn't exerted any effort at all.

Mihawk clenched his teeth, frustration gnawing at him. He had fought some of the world's most powerful opponents, many of whom he could fight for days, yet here he was, exhausted after less than an hour.

The old man chuckled. "What's the matter, boy?" he asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "There are still ten minutes left. Are you giving up already?"

Taking a deep breath, Mihawk steadied himself. His eyes narrowed as he took up a stance. "Old man, I will use my ultimate technique. After this, we end this duel."

The Old Shadow raised an eyebrow, a gleam of interest in his eyes. "Good. Take your time, boy. Show me the peak of the World's Strongest Swordsman."

Mihawk closed his eyes, centering himself. He allowed his breathing to steady, feeling his heart slow to a calm rhythm. Gathering every ounce of his strength, Mihawk unleashed his own Conqueror's Haki, coating Yoru with an immense aura. Black energy mixed with deep purple radiated from the sword, coiling around it like a dark flame. When Mihawk opened his eyes, they burned with a fierce intensity.

With a swift motion, Mihawk swung Yoru. "Eternal Night!" he roared, releasing an enormous wave of energy that surged forward like an unstoppable tide, darkening the sky above them.

The Old Shadow smiled, raising his sword. He, too, released his Haki, his blade shining with a divine aura of black and gold, and responded with his own ultimate move: "Lunar Night."

The two slashes collided mid-air, their energies merging into a swirling vortex of green and black, thunder crackling around them. The clash was so powerful that it leveled the landscape around them, reducing mountains to rubble and creating a massive crater that stretched across the island.

The struggle between their energies lasted eight intense minutes, each second stretching into eternity. The ground beneath them trembled, the air thick with the oppressive weight of their combined Haki. Finally, Mihawk's energy faltered, his body unable to sustain the power any longer. He dropped to his knees, exhausted, as his Haki faded away.

The vortex dissipated, and the remnants of their clash shot skyward, forming a brilliant arc that illuminated the heavens. Swordsmen across the world felt the disturbance, their attention drawn to the mysterious light in the sky. In the highest towers of Mary Geoise, an elderly figure who resembled Gandhi gazed at the arc with awe, while others around him looked on in shock. In the darkest corner of the castle, a figure opened his eyes, stirred by the immense power.

Breathing heavily, Mihawk looked up at the Old Shadow, who stood there, unscathed. "You… can take the title of the World's Strongest Swordsman," Mihawk admitted, his voice tinged with reluctant admiration.

The Old Shadow blinked, looking mildly surprised. "Eh? No."

Mihawk frowned, confusion flickering in his eyes. "What do you mean by 'no'? You defeated me."

The Old Shadow shook his head, a faint smile on his lips. "The title is reserved for someone else, boy. I didn't fight you for a title—I fought you for a favor."

Mihawk processed this for a moment, realization dawning on him. "What are the favors you ask of me?" he asked, his tone respectful yet frustrated.

The Old Shadow extended a Den Den Mushi to Mihawk. "The first favor," he said, his voice firm, "is that you will never speak of this battle, of me, or of this island. Keep the title of World's Strongest Swordsman for yourself."

Mihawk clenched his jaw, rage boiling within him. "Are you joking, old man? Keeping quiet about you, I can accept. But holding onto the title after being defeated—it's a disgrace. I'd rather you kill me here than live with that shame!"

The Old Shadow's gaze softened, and he spoke with quiet authority. "That's why it's a favor, not an order. Will you back away from your word?"

Mihawk felt his pride waver under the weight of the old man's words. "A sword may break," the Old Shadow continued, "but a man's word and honor should never falter."

After a long moment of silence, Mihawk sighed, accepting the terms with a nod. "Fine. What's your second favor?"

The Old Shadow tossed the Den Den Mushi to Mihawk. "I'll call you in a few months. When I do, you'll fulfill my second favor."

Mihawk caught the Den Den Mushi, annoyance flickering across his face, but he accepted it. "Old man… how did you become so strong? And how did you refine your swordsmanship and Haki to this level?" He paused, searching for the right words. "And why do I feel a strange sense of… familiarity with you?"

The Old Shadow chuckled. "Don't overthink it, boy. In swordsmanship, we're not so different."

Mihawk bristled. "Are you mocking me? I fought the world's strongest for days, yet I lost to you in less than an hour!"

The old man's smile didn't waver. "Listen, boy. My body is unmatched in this world. No one can rival me physically—not Kaido, not Big Mom, not even Whitebeard or Garp. I could take on two of them with ease. Against three, I'd sweat. And with four, I'd have to put in a serious fight."

Mihawk's eyes widened in shock. "You mean… your body is that powerful?"

The old man nodded. "I was strong from a young age, but after ten years of hellish training, I reached this level. After that, I hit my physical peak, so I turned to mastering the sword."

Mihawk took a moment to digest this. "And the sword itself—what is its name? I've never seen or heard of it before."

The old man held up his sword, admiring it. "This sword is not from this world. It's a divine blade with a will of its own. I call it the 'Lunar Tempest.' It's a gift from the heavens, and it took me years to tame."

Mihawk's shock was replaced by awe. "I feel as if you were destined for something greater. But why have I never heard of you before?"

The old man smiled, a glimmer of mystery in his eyes. "Next time we meet, perhaps I'll tell you. Think of me as a… cheat in the world's natural order."

Mihawk couldn't help but grin, appreciating the old man's honesty. "Old man… what's your strongest attack? Just how powerful is it?"

The old man's gaze turned serious, and he pointed toward the Red Line in the distance. "With my strongest move, Rudra's Crescent Fury, I could split the Red Line itself."

Mihawk's jaw dropped, the sheer magnitude of that statement settling in. He muttered the name of the attack, trying to grasp the scale of such power. When he looked up, the old man had vanished, leaving Mihawk alone in a desolate landscape, scarred by their battle.

Using his Observation Haki, Mihawk searched the island, but there was no sign of the old man. He glanced down at the scar on his chest, a symbol of the duel he would carry with pride. Despite the outcome, he felt a strange satisfaction. He had fought and lost, but he had also gained invaluable knowledge.

Returning to his coffin boat, Mihawk noticed a bottle of wine waiting for him on the seat. He chuckled, sniffing the aroma of the wine, and decided he'd save it for his return to the castle.