After annihilating the Krieg Pirates, Mihawk had planned to take a quiet detour — perhaps enjoy a drink, tease that troublesome monkey back home, and move on.
But if Ron insisted on courting death…
Then Dracule Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman, had no objection to sending him on his way.
The Black Sword — Yoru left its sheath.
And the air itself seemed to tremble.
The duel was about to begin.
Mihawk's eyes sharpened like twin blades — calm, decisive, but laced with a faint trace of mockery for Ron's audacity.
"Ron dares to challenge the world's greatest swordsman?"
"Is he insane?"
Nami's heart clenched as she heard Mihawk's cold voice.
She knew Ron's power was monstrous — but Mihawk was a legend among legends, a man whose name alone could silence oceans.
The gap between them felt… infinite.
What truly frightened her, though, was Mihawk's tone — there was no jest in it. No mercy.
Only killing intent.
"This fool is playing with fire," muttered Zeff, the Red-Legged Chef, shaking his head.
His years on the Grand Line had given him a keen eye.
He could tell instantly that Mihawk had lost all patience.
When Mihawk unsheathed his blade with that look — someone was going to die.
Before anyone could stop it, the duel began.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Mihawk swung Yoru in a flurry of motion — each strike swift and merciless, each swing carrying a sharpness that tore the very air.
It was a storm of blades, nothing like his calm, effortless duel with Zoro earlier.
"So that's why he chose Zoro as a future disciple…" Ron thought, lips twitching faintly.
The contrast was clear.
Against Zoro, Mihawk had fought leisurely — patient, even amused.
But against him?
He was serious.
Ruthless.
Deadly.
And Ron — who had invited this storm — didn't flinch.
He raised his blade, channeling the power of his newly awakened skill — the Iron-Cutting Force.
His breathing slowed. His focus sharpened.
The sword became an extension of his will.
CLAAAANG!
The Black Sword Yoru clashed against Ron's blade, a thunderous explosion ringing through the deck.
Sparks scattered like lightning.
The shockwave split the nearby sea in two, waves roaring outward in violent spirals.
Mihawk's eyes widened slightly — he felt pressure pushing back.
The force in Ron's swing was so immense that he was forced a step backward!
"What…?" Mihawk muttered. "This strength…!"
The Black Swordsman of the Grand Line — pushed back for the first time in years.
Everyone watching froze.
Even Zeff, who had seen decades of battle, looked stunned.
The unthinkable had happened.
The strongest swordsman in the world had been forced to retreat — even if only for a moment.
Johnny and Yosaku's mouths fell open.
They'd thought Ron was crazy — that he was going to die like a fool.
But now?
Now, the man they'd doubted was standing toe-to-toe with Mihawk himself!
"This can't be real," Johnny whispered.
Zoro stared in awe.
"How… how can his sword still be intact?"
He knew Ron's physical power firsthand — enough to crush steel into powder.
And yet, when their blades clashed, Ron's weapon hadn't shattered like his own had.
That shouldn't have been possible.
He squinted — and then noticed it.
A faint notch, less than a centimeter wide, carved into the blade.
Small. Subtle.
But enough to make him understand.
This battle wasn't about luck — it was about will and precision.
Then, Mihawk's calm voice broke the silence.
"So that's it… not just brute strength. You've mastered the Iron-Cutting Force as well."
His tone carried genuine intrigue now.
Mihawk had fought countless swordsmen — but this was the first time he'd faced someone who combined such raw power with refined technique.
"Interesting…" he said softly, almost to himself.
Ron didn't reply. His focus was absolute.
But nearby, Zoro's eyes widened in sudden realization.
"Iron-Cutting Force…"
He remembered what his master, Koushirou, once told him:
"When you truly become one with the sword, you will sense the breath of all things.
You will decide what to cut and what to spare.
If you wish not to cut, even paper will remain whole.
But if your heart wills it… even steel and stone will yield before you."
Zoro clenched his fists.
"So that's it," he whispered. "He's already reached that level…"
The mixture of admiration and frustration burned in his chest.
Meanwhile, Mihawk vanished in a blur.
His movements were faster than lightning — his blade traced a brilliant arc through the air.
"Magnificent," Ron murmured.
He braced himself.
Even with his Iron-Cutting skill, he knew Yoru was no ordinary weapon.
If he tried to block too long, his blade would break.
So this time, he made a different choice.
He wouldn't dodge.
He wouldn't parry.
He would test the limits of his body — the legendary "Natural Destroyer" physique.
As Yoru came slicing down, Ron met it head-on — bare flesh against black steel.
A mad choice.
But a calculated one.
Mihawk frowned mid-swing.
He's… not dodging?
"Is he insane?"
The blade struck —
—but instead of slicing through flesh and bone, it hit something dense and unyielding.
The shock vibrated up Mihawk's arm.
It felt like striking a wall of tempered iron wrapped in muscle.
He recoiled instantly, pulling back as Ron's counterattack sliced through the air in a deadly arc.
The two separated, both still standing.
A rare flicker of disbelief crossed Mihawk's face.
"Blades can't cut him?" he thought.
He studied Ron more carefully now — the smooth skin, unmarked by his attack.
Then it hit him.
"An indestructible body… monstrous strength…"
His pupils contracted.
"Could it be—?"
He muttered, half in shock, half in awe.
"Natural Destroyer…?"
He took a sharp breath.
"You… what is your connection to Charlotte Linlin?"
Gasps erupted around the deck.
Charlotte Linlin — Big Mom — one of the Four Emperors.
To hear her name invoked here was beyond belief.
Mihawk, the man who feared no one, now looked at Ron with a spark of unease.
He had seen that kind of body before — a flesh impervious to blades, bullets, and cannons.
There was no mistaking it.
"You possess the same monstrous constitution…" he said slowly, "as the Emperor of the Seas herself."
Ron smirked, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve.
"Charlotte Linlin?" he said lightly. "Never heard of her."
Mihawk's brows drew together.
Ron's grin widened.
"If she's anything like me, though…" he said, voice laced with mockery,
"…she must've been born invincible too."
He paused, then added with a lazy shrug,
"Though if she's the wrinkled, lovesick old lady people talk about — count me out."
The corner of Mihawk's mouth twitched.
For the first time in years, the greatest swordsman in the world was genuinely… amused.
And just a little intrigued.