Shanks' attacks grew even faster, his blade flowing in an unbroken chain of strikes, that sharp, crushing pressure never once letting up.
He could tell Bullet was observing something, so his sword aura only became fiercer.
Facing the increasingly dense barrage, Bullet stopped simply dodging.
He caught a brief opening, coated his left fist in a layer of Armament, and drove it hard toward the flat of Shanks' blade.
Clang.
Fist met steel with a dull impact.
Shanks' sword momentum hit a hitch for an instant.
Now.
In that moment when their auras tangled together, Bullet pushed the analytical power of his devouring talent to its limit.
He directly caught and copied the rhythm of that "blade aura" traveling through the sword into his fist.
Shanks felt something strange.
It was as if a small piece of the feeling he had when swinging his sword had been stolen by the person in front of him.
Shock flickered through his heart, but his body did not slow. His sword changed course again, sweeping up from below in a rising slash.
And just then, Bullet moved.
His body tilted slightly. His right hand straightened, fingers pressed together like a sword. With that motion, a trace of sharp intent he had just "borrowed" from Shanks surged along his fingertips, darting toward the side of the rising blade.
That strike had no form or structure to speak of. It could not be called swordsmanship at all.
But the "sharpness" gathered at his fingertip was a six or seven tenths match for Shanks' own aura.
"What...?"
Shanks' pupils shrank instantly. His rising slash faltered, thrown off by how stunned he was.
Shhk.
Bullet's fingertip skimmed just past the blade, failing to make clean contact.
Yet that mimicked sharp intent still made the hairs on Shanks' arm stand on end.
His offense halted.
Shanks stepped back with his sword in hand, his face filled with utter disbelief.
He stared fixedly at Bullet's slowly withdrawing fingers.
"You... just now, that was..."
The onlooking crew started whispering among themselves. They did not understand what had happened.
But they could tell that for that brief moment, Bullet's strike had suddenly felt... a little like Shanks.
At some point, Rayleigh had straightened from his relaxed lean. His eyes behind the lenses had gone razor sharp.
He glanced from Bullet to Shanks, then back again, brows drawing together in thought.
He had seen it more clearly than anyone else.
That move from Bullet had not been the product of years of sword training. It had felt more like an instinctive imitation.
And it was not the "technique" he copied, but Shanks' unique intent and aura when wielding his sword.
How was that possible?
Just from watching and crossing blades a few times?
Bullet slowly lowered his hand, his heart anything but calm.
It had worked.
His devouring talent really could analyze and simulate the combat traits of others.
The imitation was crude, far from enough to steal the hard earned skill and muscle memory Shanks had built over years of practice.
But it was enough to point out a path.
Through battle and contact, he could devour the essence of an opponent's fighting style, enrich his own arsenal, and in a crucial moment, catch them off guard.
"It was not swordsmanship."
Bullet explained to the stunned Shanks, his tone as calm as ever.
"I just felt your aura... and tried to imitate it."
Shanks stared at him for several seconds.
Then the shock on his face slowly faded, replaced by an even brighter light. It was the excitement one only showed when facing a true rival.
"Imitate the aura, huh?"
"Haha... Mister Bullet, you really are a complete and utter monster."
He laughed aloud and raised his sword once more.
"But that makes this sparring way more fun."
"Again!"
The fight resumed, but this time there was less casual playfulness in Shanks' blade and more earnest exploration.
Bullet, meanwhile, no longer only dodged. He actively tried to use the stolen sharp intent to meet Shanks' strikes, forcing the red haired swordsman to become even more cautious.
Rayleigh watched the two clash again in the center of the ring, focusing especially on that alien edge in Bullet's movements.
The guess he had about Bullet's learning speed seemed to have gained a measure of proof.
The power sleeping inside this kid was not just giving him a strong body and dragon breath.
It seemed to be changing something more fundamental... the very way Bullet acquired strength.
"Simulation, is it..."
Rayleigh murmured under his breath, too softly for anyone else to hear.
The look in his eyes as he watched Bullet only grew deeper.