Note: First of all, I sincerely apologise for not updating over the past two days. This month has been extremely busy, and I haven't had much time to keep up with updates. But don't worry, readers—I'll make it up to you this week.
Enjoy three chapters today!
........
BOOM!
The crimson slash quickly collided with the dark green one. The immense power held them in a stalemate for only a moment before Mihawk's slash abruptly shattered!
But in a surprising turn, the scattered slash didn't dissipate. Instead, it transformed into countless tiny, mosquito-like slashes that swarmed and clung to the red slash.
Sizzle! Sizzle! Sizzle!
The two forces rapidly wore each other down, but Atlas's attack, still carrying formidable power, continued toward Mihawk!
CLANG!
Mihawk met the attack with his horizontal blade! As expected of a black blade, it blocked the blow without a single scratch.
"What ferocious swordsmanship. Indeed, only by dueling with such a strong swordsman can I grow so quickly!"
Mihawk unconsciously tightened his grip on his black blade.
Since setting out to sea, he had challenged swordsmen of all schools and even those with no school at all, but apart from Red-Haired Shanks, only the Marine before him could make him feel so excited and pressured.
SWISH!
At almost the same instant, with perfect tacit understanding, the two men struck again!
CLANG! CLATTER!
Steel met steel, and sparks flew. In a contest of pure strength, Mihawk was no match for Atlas.
However, with his superb swordsmanship, his blade moved like a slippery fish, deflecting most of the force.
Still, the remaining power was enough to force him back two steps.
"It's not over yet!" Atlas, seeing his attack land, gave a fierce grin and held his sword vertically with one hand!
"In one snap of the fingers, there are twenty moments. In one moment, twenty thoughts. In one thought, ninety flashes. In one flash, nine million instances of life and death..."
At this moment, time and space seemed to fall into disarray. The entire world appeared to stand still.
"One Sword Style Secret Art: Instant Thousand Slashes!"
In an instant, Mihawk felt as if he had been cast into a prison of blades. Countless sharp auras pierced toward his heart, completely unavoidable!
"This is the feeling!" Mihawk's expression showed no fear. Instead, his usual cold indifference was replaced by a fiery passion that crept onto his face!
SWISH! CLANG! CLANG!
It was as if Mihawk had made a single slash, yet it was also as if he had made countless slashes.
Hundreds of clashes of steel merged into a single, ethereal sound that echoed endlessly!
"You've lost," Atlas said lightly, appearing behind Mihawk.
"I have lost," Mihawk admitted without denial, slowly turning to face Atlas. A duel between swordsmen is won and lost in an instant.
He hadn't been able to completely parry that last secret art; Atlas's speed and strength were simply too far beyond his own.
For a swordsman, defeat is not frightening. However, a wound on the back is a swordsman's shame!
"What are you doing?" Atlas looked on with a strange expression, as if he'd eaten something foul.
Mihawk had closed his eyes and opened his arms toward him in an "accepting" posture. Does this guy have some kind of special fetish?
"Cut me. For a swordsman, a wound on the back is a disgrace!" Mihawk, oblivious to Atlas's thoughts, explained with a serious expression.
Otherwise, he would have likely fought Atlas to the death, even with his last breath.
"Forget it. That whole swordsman code of yours doesn't work on me," Atlas said, waving his hand in refusal. A mischievous look then appeared on his face.
"Hey, you're technically my prisoner now, right? How about you do one thing for me?"
Strictly speaking, if Mihawk wanted to escape, he could. But as he himself had said, a wound on the back is a swordsman's shame, so he would rather take a blow from Atlas head-on.
"What is it?" Mihawk was no fool; he didn't agree immediately.
"A small matter. You probably don't want to be on the radar of the Marines or the World Government right now, do you? Having a bounty is always a hassle for you."
Mihawk nodded in agreement. If he were constantly being pursued by the Marines, he would waste a great deal of time and energy on such boring affairs.
He had only one goal: to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship, to constantly seek breakthroughs in his art.
Otherwise, he wouldn't be bored enough to travel all the way to the East Blue to toy with an unknown swordsman.
"I have a way for you to avoid this trouble. For you, it's a deal with all benefits and no downsides," Atlas said, his tone laced with temptation.
He wasn't lying; the perks of becoming a Warlord of the Sea were just too good to pass up.
"The Warlords?" Mihawk raised an eyebrow, slowly uttering the two words.
"Huh? How did you know?" Atlas was surprised. He hadn't expected Mihawk to be so well-informed about world affairs.
Mihawk didn't answer, instead looking at Atlas as if he were an idiot. He subscribed to the daily paper and had his own judgment of the world's situation.
"Ahem..." Atlas paid it no mind, coughing awkwardly. Although Mihawk was destined to become a Warlord eventually, a new idea had sprouted in Atlas's mind upon meeting him.
First, the power to appoint and dismiss Warlords was not in the hands of the Marines but was directly controlled by the World Government, and the system was unlikely to be abolished, at least not in the current climate.
However, Atlas disliked ambitious schemers like Doflamingo and Crocodile. People like them usually became Warlords for their own purposes, which was never a good thing for the common people.
But not even Sengoku could influence such matters.
So, what if he filled all the Warlord spots before Doflamingo and the others could claim them? Or perhaps... eliminate them beforehand?
A homebody like Mihawk was perfect. He had no use for the right of legal plunder; he spent his days either seeking out duels or staying at home.
"I accept." Mihawk didn't refuse. Becoming a Warlord was already within his consideration. Agreeing to Atlas's offer now was no big deal.
"Great! It's settled then. You just need to hunt down a few famous pirates and turn them over to the Marines. I'll smooth things over on the Marine side," Atlas said, unable to hide his delight, even though he had expected this outcome.
He would just have to call Sengoku later to mention it. Of course, he couldn't do this all by himself; using the power of the Marines was the correct approach.
Heh. You have your tricks, but I have my own! The World Government... a mere trifle.
"Hey, are you sure you don't want us to give you a lift?" Atlas asked warmly as he watched Mihawk coolly step onto his coffin boat.
"No need." The reply was concise.
Mihawk sat on the chair leaning against the cross-shaped mast and closed his eyes to rest, but he didn't take out 'Black Blade Yoru' to paddle.
"Hm?" Suddenly, Mihawk opened his sharp eyes and looked quizzically at a curious Atlas.
"Nothing, just looking," Atlas said, waving his hand while sneakily hiding the Camera Den Den Mushi he had just told Smoker to fetch behind his back.
"By the way, how come you're not paddling?"
Mihawk ignored him and closed his eyes again. The boat drifted along with the current until it was out of the warship's sight.
"Did that guy notice..." Atlas muttered in confusion. He had been hoping to get some blackmail material on Mihawk.
Perhaps when he became the World's Strongest Swordsman, he could sell it to the World Economy News Paper for a hefty sum.
Beside him, Smoker seemed to overhear Atlas's whisper, and the corner of his mouth twitched imperceptibly. Atlas is still the same as ever...
East Blue, Loguetown Marine Base.
It had been nearly five years since Atlas had left. It wasn't a long time, but it wasn't short either.
After all, the now 22-year-old Atlas had spent half of his life in this new world in this very town.
Loguetown hadn't changed much. The same crowds came and went, and the architecture remained the same.
However, a small portion of the Marines at the base were unfamiliar faces. Marines were always on the front lines fighting pirates, and in war... There are always casualties.
Base Captain's Office.
The master of this office was still Captain Randel. Though only in his fifties, his temples were already gray, but his face remained as resolute and iron-willed as ever.
At this moment, Captain Randel was puffing away on a cigar behind his desk. On the wall of the smoke-filled office was a slightly yellowed newspaper.
Through the haze, one could faintly make out the publisher: the World Economy News Paper.
Captain Randel was feeling quite leisurely—in fact, he had been for the past few years.
This was mainly because, for some unknown reason, Vice Admiral Garp had been visiting the East Blue frequently.
Of course, the specific reason was not something a mere branch captain could inquire about.
Ever since Zephyr's family was assassinated by pirates, the family information of high-ranking Marine officers was kept strictly confidential, with some families even being moved to Marineford for protection.
However, Randel didn't mind this leisurely pace. So what if the East Blue was called the weakest sea? Wasn't it better to have fewer Marine sacrifices?
Purupurupuru~ Purupurupuru~
Suddenly, the Den Den Mushi on his desk rang, interrupting Captain Randel's thoughts. He casually picked it up.
"Captain Randel, a warship from Headquarters will be arriving at Loguetown port in the coming days. I trust you will make the necessary preparations."
"Yes, sir!" Randel replied, a cigar clamped in his teeth.
Clack!
"Who could it be?" Randel fell into thought. Could it be Vice Admiral Garp? But hadn't he just visited not long ago?
Suddenly, his gaze accidentally swept across the newspaper on the wall. An idea sprouted in his mind like a weed and grew wildly. Could it be...
The warship had just exited the Calm Belt.
The wide deck was covered with large chunks of meat, which all appeared to be cut from the same creature.
"Do you think I was born unlucky?" Atlas asked, looking at the Sea King limbs strewn across the deck with a wry expression.
"Huh? Why?" Smoker's brain stalled for a moment, not understanding Atlas's out-of-the-blue comment.
"Then explain this to me. I've only crossed the Calm Belt twice in my life, and both times, I got hit by a Sea King. You tell me, am I unlucky or not?"
"Say, is the concentration of Seastone on our ship's hull impure or something?" Atlas asked helplessly, holding up two fingers.
"...I don't think so. Dr. Vegapunk from the Marine Science Unit is very reliable," Smoker was momentarily at a loss for words. It did seem... a bit unlucky.
But he had been present both times, so who was the real unlucky one? Smoker fell into deep thought...
"Also, Vergo, good job! You'll get a promotion and a raise when we get back," Atlas said, turning to praise Vergo with an appreciative look.
Vergo had been the one to hunt this Sea King. As a superior, it was important to properly reward a subordinate, even if it was just with words.
Vergo appeared calm on the surface, but inwardly, he was ecstatic. One step closer to gaining the trust of the Marine high command...
At the port of Loguetown, the base's highest-ranking officer, Captain Randel, led a group of Marines in waiting. They all stood solemn and dignified.
Despite his suspicions, Randel didn't dare to be negligent. What if he was wrong? This was a Vice Admiral from Headquarters, a top-ranking officer!
In the watchtower, a soldier seemed to see something astonishing. He quickly readjusted his telescope, trying to confirm it.
"Hm?" Atlas, from a distance, suddenly felt a gaze on him and looked in its direction.
"A... A... At..." The lookout was excited. There was no way he could mistake that face.
He had once gone out to sea with Atlas to fight pirates, a story he had bragged about at the base for a long time. I have to report to Captain Randel quickly!
Thump, thump, thump!
The lookout hurried down from the tower, his face flushed as he shouted at Randel, "Captain, sir, it's Atlas!"
"Who did you say it was?" Randel asked repeatedly, as if afraid he had misheard.
"It's Atlas! The person from Headquarters is Atlas!"
"What?" The jaws of the Marines nearly hit the floor. Most of them had dealt with Atlas before, or at the very least, had heard legends of this Marine monster.
They never expected the Vice Admiral they were here to welcome would be him. How old was he? Probably only in his early twenties.
How could someone be so heaven-defyingly prodigious! How were ordinary people like them supposed to live?
But then, their chests swelled with pride. After all, a Marine Vice Admiral this young had come from their very own Loguetown Marine base.
The pirates of the East Blue might be the weakest, but their Marines were not!
"Address him as Vice Admiral!" Randel scolded with a laugh, his face full of pride and joy as he looked at the slowly approaching warship...
(T/N: Please give me some power stone, I hope it can at least reach the top 100)
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