The banquet finally wound down, though the galleon kept sailing on. Bardock pitched in, diligently helping the crew clean up the mess on deck. By now, he had gathered enough intel to know exactly who Shanks was rushing to meet: "Hawkeye" Dracule Mihawk, one of the sea's premier master swordsmen. While it seemed Mihawk hadn't officially claimed the title of the World's Greatest Swordsman yet, just the thought of witnessing a clash between these two titans made Bardock's blood boil with excitement.
"Yo, Bardock! Hurry up, I'll show you where you're sleeping," Lucky Roux called out with a wide grin, waving him over.
At the entrance to the cabins below deck, Roux tossed him a bundle. "Here, figured you needed this."
Bardock caught it and unrolled the fabric. It was a brand-new set of clothes, and judging by the eye test, it was actually his size. He had no idea where the massive pirate had scrounged it up.
"Thanks a lot, Roux. I finally don't have to walk around looking like a caveman."
Roux laughed heartily. "Get some rest, kid! We'll have to swap barbecue secrets when you've got the time!"
"For sure! Honestly, roasting meat is the only thing I really know how to do. I'm hoping to learn a few tricks from you."
Two days flashed by. In that short time, Bardock managed to familiarize himself with the crew—and one literal monkey. Aside from the heavy hitters he recognized from the manga, he met a few unfamiliar faces. The biggest surprise, however, was running into Shanks' adopted daughter, the future global pop idol: Uta.
Despite being just a little girl, Uta was already the official musician of the Red Hair Pirates. She constantly wore her signature headphones, and from the sound of her voice, it was obvious she had already eaten the Sing-Sing Fruit. Her singing was genuinely magical, effortlessly drawing anyone who listened into a trance.
One afternoon, completely mesmerized by her voice, a popular internet meme from his past life slipped out before he could stop himself. "Uta! Have my monkeys!"
Wait, no, it's just a joke! he wanted to scream. But Shanks didn't care about internet slang.
"You little brat! Uta is absolutely not having your monkeys!" The fiercely protective father instantly channeled his inner Nami, dropping his fist onto Bardock's head. Bam! Bam! Bam! Three massive, comical bumps sprouted from the boy's skull.
Uta tilted her head innocently. "Shanks, what does it mean to have monkeys?"
Her genuine question was like pouring gasoline on a fire.
Bam! Bam! Bam! Shanks hammered three more fresh bumps onto Bardock's head for good measure.
The rest of the crew howled with laughter, clutching their stomachs as they pointed at the bruised boy.
Rubbing his sore scalp, Bardock couldn't help but marvel at Shanks' absurd speed. He hadn't even registered the man moving before the blows landed.
"Hey, Shanks," Bardock asked, turning serious. "Where exactly do I rank in terms of strength out on the sea?" He genuinely needed a baseline to plan his next moves.
"Strength isn't just about throwing numbers around, kid," Shanks replied, holding up an open palm. "Here. Hit my hand with everything you've got."
Bardock didn't hold back. He immediately shifted into his full Monkey King Beast Form, maximizing his physical power, defense, and attack output. He stepped into the strike, throwing a devastating haymaker backed by his full weight. The punch cut through the air with a vicious howl—but the impact was completely underwhelming. Shanks' palm didn't budge a single millimeter.
Bardock wasn't surprised; he already knew he was still incredibly green.
Shanks hummed thoughtfully, lowering his hand. "Your raw attack power is on par with a pirate captain I fought a while back... guy had a thirty-five million Berry bounty. Your defense is way tougher than his, though. Bounties are just a reference point, but still, for your age? That's seriously impressive."
'Thirty-five million?' Bardock thought, his eyes lighting up. 'I wonder if that means I'm around the same level as Luffy when he first set sail? Plus, I can still use Size Manipulation to boost my combat power further.' He clenched his furry fist. 'Still, I desperately need actual combat experience. I haven't fought a single real opponent yet.'
Around noon the next day, the Red Hair Pirates finally rendezvoused with Dracule Mihawk. They met on a deserted island about a half-day's voyage from the Sabaody Archipelago. It was a barren, rocky speck of land barely the size of a football field. It made perfect sense why they chose this spot for a duel—nobody was going to cry if it got completely obliterated.
Mihawk looked remarkably similar to the man Bardock recognized from the manga timelines over a decade in the future, save for one major difference: he lacked his signature facial hair. It was a bizarre, clean-shaven "youth" version of the legendary swordsman.
"Mihawk! Long time no see!" Shanks grinned, always looking for any excuse to throw a party. "Wanna have a banquet?"
"The banquet can wait, Shanks," Mihawk replied evenly, though a dangerous excitement simmered beneath his calm demeanor. There were painfully few people on these seas who could push his blade to the limit. "Draw your sword. It's been too long since I've been able to go all out."
With a smooth, practiced motion, Mihawk reached over his shoulder and drew the massive, crucifix-shaped Supreme Grade Sword, Yoru. The instant the blade was freed, an overwhelmingly sharp aura erupted from him.
Bardock noted that Yoru's blade hadn't been permanently forged black yet. It all but confirmed his theory that Mihawk hadn't quite reached the absolute pinnacle of the world just yet.
Shanks dropped his carefree smile. His expression hardened into serious focus as he drew Gryphon, falling into a battle-ready stance.
Back on the galleon, the crew didn't need any orders. They seamlessly steered the ship—towing Mihawk's small coffin boat behind it—to a safe distance. Judging by their practiced efficiency, this definitely wasn't the first time they'd had to evacuate the blast zone.
Bardock immediately shifted into his Monkey King form and flared his Fiery Golden Eyes to their absolute limit. He refused to miss a single frame of this duel. From now on, whenever he practiced swordsmanship, these two monsters would be his ultimate blueprints.
Transmigrating into this body had essentially given him a photographic memory. By pushing his enhanced vision to the max, he could actually track their blindingly fast movements. If he didn't secretly steal their techniques right now, it would be a total insult to whatever god had dropped him in this world.
Mihawk and Shanks moved simultaneously. With a violent swing, they both launched colossal flying slashes. The two arcs of devastating energy collided dead center, grinding against each other with a screeching roar before shattering into a violent shockwave.
Just as Emperor-class fighters greeted each other by splitting the sky with Conqueror's Haki, master swordsmen apparently initiated their duels with massive flying slashes.
The moment the shockwave cleared, the two men blurred, closing the distance for close-quarters combat.
Mihawk's swordsmanship was heavy and oppressive. His strikes were deceptively simple but carried catastrophic weight, forcing his opponent into absolute defense. Shanks' style was the polar opposite. Wielding Gryphon in his left hand, his attacks were lightning-fast, striking from bizarre, unpredictable angles without sacrificing an ounce of lethal power. They were perfectly matched—an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
As the duel dragged on, the shockwaves radiating from their clashes grew increasingly violent. Stray flying slashes sporadically tore across the ocean surface, cleaving the water in half as they shot off toward the horizon.
Suddenly, Bardock gasped. One of those massive slashes had deflected directly toward the galleon!
Before he could even shout a warning, a figure launched into the air and shattered the incoming wave of energy with a single, brutal strike. As the man landed casually back on the deck, Bardock realized it was the Red Hair Pirates' first mate, Benn Beckman.
"Those two are way too reckless," Beckman muttered, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Take the ship further back."
"Aye!" the crew chorused in unison. There was zero panic, no scrambling or fear. As expected of a future Yonko crew, they handled near-death experiences with absolute composure.
The duel raged non-stop from noon until the sun dipped low on the horizon, bathing the shattered island in a deep, bloody orange glow.
Breathing heavily, Mihawk and Shanks finally separated, standing at opposite ends of the cratered earth. Neither rushed to attack.
"It's getting dark, Mihawk," Shanks panted, a wild grin stretching across his face. "Let's end this with one final strike! I haven't quite mastered this next move yet, so you better watch yourself!"
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Mihawk replied, his grip tightening on Yoru.
Shanks lowered his stance, black lightning violently erupting from his blade. "Kamusari—Divine Departure!"
An ear-splitting boom ruptured the very fabric of the sky. From the safety of the ship, Bardock watched in utter awe. Through his microscopic vision, he saw it clearly: their blades weren't even touching. The sheer pressure violently warping and tearing the air between their swords was what caused the deafening roar.
It was the absolute pinnacle of power in this world—the devastating combination of Advanced Armament Emission and the exceedingly rare Conqueror's Haki Coating.