Usopp buried his face in his hands, trembling with despair. “I can’t watch! They’re definitely going to die!”

Nami stood silent, shivering beside him.

From aboard the Going Merry, they had witnessed almost everything—Zoro and Luffy being defeated in front of their eyes.

It was brutal.

First, the black ship had been sliced in two by a sword wave. Then Zoro had fought on a raft—and was beaten, left in unknown condition. Luffy had been pinned underwater by Davy Jones, motionless and unclear whether alive.

They just couldn’t understand—If these two were that unbeatable, why risk their lives? Why not flee and live another day?

But two even stranger things then happened:

The black ship not only reassembled itself—seamlessly, like it was never cut—but the raft with Zoro and the black‑sword swordsman turned around mid‑wave and shot like an arrow against the current, crashing into the black ship.

What on earth was happening?

Usopp and Nami watched, utterly bewildered.

—

“Who is that man?” Davy Jones intoned, eyeing the raft bearing down.

“Captain, that’s Dracule ‘Hawk‑Eyes’ Mihawk,” Buggy answered with some respect. “He’s the World’s Greatest Swordsman and one of the Shichibukai.”

“‘Shichibukai’?” Davy Jones grasped the first title easily, but this second one left him puzzled. “What does that mean?”

“It’s the title given by the World Government to powerful pirates. They serve the government, and in exchange the government stops hunting them—and even recognizes their territory.”

Davy Jones felt a nasty tightening in his chest.

First, being forced into servitude by a corrupt government reminded him of the worst memories. Second, using “government fan boys” to suppress others—it was exactly the hypocrisy he despised.

Still, he wouldn’t dismiss Mihawk’s strength. Anyone who could split a warship with a sword was beyond him, doubtless.

But he was not ready to leave.

He had sensed a power system reaching out to him—one he needed to understand.

He leaped into midair, made a graceful arc off the shattered ship, and suddenly vanished.

Buggy and the others gasped: after witnessing Mihawk’s power, their captain now chased after that man?

In an instant, Davy Jones teleported to the raft and landed beside Mihawk—his crab claw smashing down at the swordsman’s back.

But Mihawk moved as if he had seen everything coming.

He angled his black blade behind him to block the strike—and then twisted, sending a single slash across Jones’s left arm.

Shlick—

Blood spurted; then the severed arm seemed to yank itself back toward Jones’ torso, the wound closing as though sewn—alive again.

“Your strike tore through the ship but seems ineffective on you,” Mihawk nodded. “You’re a Devil Fruit user? A fish-man who ate a Devil Fruit?”

It sounded impossible—but it explained everything they had seen.

Davy Jones gave no answer. Instead, he asked: “When you struck that ship, you had the intent—the presence—behind it. What power was that?”

“It appears we both have questions.” Mihawk said, drawing another slash as suddenly as lightning. “Let’s settle it with a duel—then speak freely.”

He hadn’t swung the blade yet when Davy Jones fired his pistol.

Bang!

But the bullet missed its mark.

Mihawk sensed danger and leaped from the raft, landing on a single floating plank, perfectly balanced on the churning waves.

“Strange methods.” Mihawk commented. “What are you?”

He was the same enemy Mihawk had encountered on the seventh day—whom he alone had crushed. After eliminating the Krieg Pirates, Mihawk drifted into the East Blue like a hunter trailing prey.

He ignored both news and bounties, even when headlines about Davy Jones began appearing in government papers just days ago. He wouldn’t have recognized the Deep Sea Reaper by bounty name.

Davy Jones did not answer. He instead dove into the sea, disappearing beneath the waves—his true domain.

Mihawk narrowed his eyes.

Unbelievable events kept piling up. This fish-man devil fruit user—unless he wanted to drown himself—was too extraordinary.

Mihawk swung multiple sword waves—each cleaving through water like his earlier strike on the ship. Yet none struck their target.

Meanwhile, Davy Jones used powerful jets of seawater like dragon strikes—attempting to break Mihawk’s footing or pull him deep beneath.

Luckily Mihawk’s reflexes were sharp—he dodged nearly every time.

Underwater, a human’s strength fades—but a fish-man’s only grows.

Mihawk had no desire to fight in those depths.

Victory would come at too great a cost.

He thought of a friend—another swordsman who had lost an arm—and how their skill had suffered gravely afterward.

Losing an arm, just to kill a fish-man or force answers—it wasn’t worth it.

With a light leap, Mihawk returned to the raft, sheathed his blade, and sat down with composure.

He extended peace.

“I think it’s best to talk—and trade what we know. Next time we meet, we’ll decide the victor.”

To Mihawk, preparation mattered more than another fight.

Davy Jones surfaced beneath the raft—within seconds he rose through the wood.

One moment the wood seemed to warp, forming a triangle—then Davy Jones’ skull appeared, stepping fully through the raft without damaging it.

Mihawk calmed his astonishment.

Indeed, this was a most unusual individual.

Now on that raft stood Davy Jones, Mihawk seated, and Zoro lying injured—a cramped tableau.

“If we continue fighting, nothing good will come of it.” Mihawk crossed his legs and folded his arms. “Let’s exchange information—and part ways. Save our final clash for next time.”

Davy Jones settled, placing his triangular hat in position. “I enjoy a fair deal. You speak first: what is this combination of intent and power that you wield?”

“It’s called ‘Conqueror’s Haki’,” Mihawk answered. “A force that can be imbued into your body or even your weapon.”

He withheld much—only mentioning Armament Haki, not the other forms.

“Haki…?” Davy Jones had never heard of the term, but soon would dispatch Alvida, Buggy, and Kuro to investigate.

Then Mihawk asked: “And your power—Devil Fruit or not?”

“My fish-man physiology exceeds humans.” Davy Jones replied. “My body possesses advanced regenerative abilities.”

Of course, he also withheld the full truth. His abilities weren’t fish-man physiology, nor did he regenerate entirely.

Indeed, complicated abilities.

Mihawk nodded, meeting his gaze—and both sensed the other was not revealing everything.

But for now, appearances would do.

He entrusted Zoro to Davy Jones’s care. The duel was over—as far as this encounter.

Mihawk rose from the raft and departed.

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep