Gern Reginald Sigmar left Zephyr's office.
When he reached the exit of the administrative building and was just about to step outside, a deep, magnetic voice suddenly came from the shadows beside the wall.
"Gern."
Gern paused mid-step and glanced sideways.
There, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, stood Dracule Mihawk.
The man's iconic black hat was pulled low, partially concealing his face, yet it did nothing to hide the pair of sharp, golden eyes gleaming in the shadows—eyes as piercing as a hawk's.
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling directly upon Gern.
"Do you intend to challenge this world?"
Mihawk's voice was calm.
But the question he asked was one that could make anyone's heart stop.
Gern did not answer immediately.
Instead, he slowly looked Mihawk up and down—his flawless posture, his cold yet strikingly handsome face.
Then he clicked his tongue and spoke with completely inappropriate admiration.
"I've got to say… you really are ridiculously handsome, Mihawk."
"Whether it's your aura or your looks—you're basically the gold standard for men."
"A matter of temperament."
At the sudden compliment, Mihawk's lips twitched almost imperceptibly. A faint, self-assured smile flickered across his face before disappearing just as quickly.
He refocused, his golden eyes locking onto Gern again.
"You still haven't answered my question."
Seeing Mihawk take it so seriously, the lightness on Gern's face faded. He gave a quiet chuckle and responded with a question of his own.
"Do I really need to answer that?"
"As long as I keep moving forward… as long as I take that next step…"
"…then a direct conflict with the World Government will become inevitable."
"Because they will never allow a 'Navy' to exist that stands outside their control—"
"—especially one that could threaten the very foundation of their rule."
As he spoke, Gern remembered Whitebeard's final warning before his death.
"Especially after what Whitebeard said to me before he died."
"Taking that step requires absolute certainty. One hundred percent preparation. Not even the slightest room for luck."
His tone grew heavier.
For a brief moment, an unease surfaced—something even Gern himself didn't want to examine too closely.
"Because I'm worried that… if I lose…"
"There may be no one left who can stop me."
"If I'm pushed into a corner, I might resort to absolutely anything."
"So…"
"I'll stop you."
Before Gern could finish his sentence, Mihawk suddenly interrupted.
His voice remained calm and steady.
Yet Gern froze for a moment.
"And me as well."
Another voice suddenly sounded from the left.
From behind the shadow of a pillar, a tall figure stepped forward with a grin.
It was Douglas Bullet.
He rolled his neck with a loud crack, his face carrying a wild and pure smile.
"After all, from the very beginning I've only had one goal."
"To defeat you, Gern."
Flames of undisguised anticipation burned in Bullet's eyes—the longing for the ultimate clash at the summit of strength.
"So if that day really comes… and someone needs to end you…"
"…killing you would be no burden for me."
Gern looked at the two men standing before him.
One pursued the ultimate path of swordsmanship, calm and cold like ice—the world's greatest swordsman.
The other worshiped absolute strength, blazing with fervor like fire—a demon of battle.
In their own ways, they had both given the same heavy promise.
Gern remained silent for a moment, his gaze moving between Mihawk and Bullet.
Then, at last, a complicated yet relieved smile appeared on his face.
"If," Gern said softly, his voice still perfectly clear to both men, "that day truly comes…"
"Then… I'll leave it to you."
It wasn't pessimism.
It was clarity.
From Gern's current height and perspective—though not an omniscient one—he knew one thing for certain:
Even Rocks D. Xebec, whose strength had once rivaled or perhaps even surpassed his own, had ultimately fallen at God Valley.
And what Gern intended to challenge…
…was a colossal machine that had ruled the world for eight hundred years.
The depth of its hidden power and resources was unfathomable.
That was why he had to prepare for everything.
And also why he had to prepare…
…for the possibility of his own failure.
Mihawk and Bullet's promises were less threats than they were responses to his clarity.
A heavy form of trust—an unspoken bond between powerful men.
The suffocating atmosphere did not last long.
Gern suddenly took a deep breath and pushed those worries aside.
His usual crooked grin returned to his face.
Waving his hand casually, he broke the silence with exaggerated cheer.
"Come on now! Don't talk like it's already decided!"
His tone became deliberately dramatic as his gaze shifted between Mihawk and Bullet.
"With just the two of you? There's a good chance you still wouldn't be able to beat me."
"Do you even know what it means to get crushed with one hand?"
He even mimicked the motion of gripping something in one hand.
The pose was outrageously arrogant.
"You—"
Mihawk frowned at Gern's sudden shift in attitude and his infuriating tone. Just as he was about to say something—
Gern cut him off again.
"Wait, wait, don't start yet!"
Gern raised a finger, his expression becoming slightly more serious—though the teasing in his eyes remained as he looked at Mihawk.
"I've already lined up an opponent for you."
"When the time comes, one of those five old fossils will be carrying the Shodai Kitetsu."
"From the looks of it, he's a great swordsman too."
"So I'll leave that one to you, our beloved World's Greatest Swordsman."
Gern deliberately dropped the name Shodai Kitetsu into the conversation with obvious provocation.
Sure enough—
The moment Mihawk heard the name, his expression shifted.
It was the unmistakable reaction of a top-tier swordsman hearing about a legendary blade and a worthy opponent.
The spark of battle ignited instantly.
"Shodai Kitetsu… the most infamous cursed blade in legend…"
Mihawk's fingers unconsciously brushed the hilt of the black blade Yoru.
A proud smile curled at the corner of his lips.
"Hmph. I only hope its wielder can provide me with a satisfying fight."
Watching Mihawk's fighting spirit ignite so easily, Gern smiled with satisfaction.
Meanwhile—
As Gern and Mihawk continued their banter and the atmosphere gradually lightened again—
Bullet, who stood slightly behind them, did not join the conversation.
He simply stared silently at Gern's back.
Deep in his eyes, a faint trace of complicated emotion flickered.
His mind replayed the words he had spoken earlier.
"Killing you would be no burden for me."
He had said it plainly.
But…
That part was a lie.
His desire to face Gern in a true, exhilarating battle—to determine who stood at the peak—was completely genuine.
But the possibility of killing Gern…
Deep in his heart, it had never truly existed.
"Gern…"
"A man like you…"
"…will never lose."
"Because that was your promise to me back then."
"You said I would never beat you in this lifetime."
"And you…"
"…will never be defeated."