The Swordplay Tournament had already stretched across three full months, and by all estimates, it would likely spill into a fourth. During this time, the event had drawn the attention of the entire world, indirectly suppressing conflict throughout the New World. Wars had not disappeared, but they had quieted, as if the sea itself were holding its breath.
Yet this calm was nothing more than a fragile pause.
Beneath the surface, forces continued to scheme and maneuver. Once the tournament ended and these powerhouses returned to their territories, all the suppressed tensions would erupt at once. The resulting backlash would be even more violent, dragging the New World into longer and more chaotic wars than before. Without a true Four Emperors system to stabilize the seas, and with the Marines already extending their reach into the New World ahead of schedule, disorder remained the natural state of this era.
After countless battles and relentless rounds, the tournament had finally reached its climax.
No one intended to miss the finals.
Even the World Government had taken extreme precautions. The Celestial Dragons were completely barred from accessing any information about the event. The risk was too great. If those nobles caught sight of these powerful swordsmen, their whims might lead them to demand ownership, and the consequences of such arrogance could shake the very foundation of the World Government itself.
High above, on the open-air eighteenth floor of the Battle Pyramid, the final stage had been prepared.
Just like the opening ceremony, Teach stood alongside the Four Emperors and the three witnesses, overlooking the arena below.
Two figures already faced each other.
Issho, the blind swordsman.
And the masked killer known as "Gentleman."
They had crossed blades once before, and fate had arranged for them to meet again at the very beginning of the finals. The tension between them was palpable, far sharper than that of an ordinary duel.
Beneath his cracked mask, "Gentleman's" expression darkened. Issho was the one opponent he least wanted to face this early. Although he had anticipated a rematch eventually, drawing him as the first opponent could only be described as terrible luck.
He briefly considered whether the Nightfall Pirates had interfered with the match order, but quickly dismissed the idea. His identity was perfectly concealed. There was no reason for them to target him specifically.
At least, that was what he believed.
Across from him, Issho stood calmly, his tall frame wrapped in a simple robe, a purple scarf resting over his shoulders. His eyes, faintly open, revealed blank white orbs that seemed almost unsettling to look at.
Invisible waves of Observation Haki spread outward.
From the man before him, Issho sensed something deeply unsettling. It was not just malice, but a suffocating, unrestrained evil that showed no regard for life. The deliberate slaughter throughout the tournament had already drawn his displeasure.
Issho had seen too much darkness in the world. It was precisely because of that darkness that he had chosen to blind himself.
Even so, he still carried his own sense of justice.
If he could not eliminate evil, then he would at least hinder it.
The two stood in silence, yet the air between them grew heavy.
Even the audience could feel it.
This was no ordinary match.
Without warning, Issho moved.
"Gravity Blade: Fierce Tiger."
His cane sword flashed free, and with a single swing, a massive surge of gravity burst forward. A deep purple wave spread across the arena, combining sword intent with overwhelming force. The ground trembled as rocks tore free and rose into the air, drawn into the attack.
The entire battlefield seemed to collapse beneath the pressure.
The attack surged forward like a tidal wave, swallowing everything in its path. The arena floor cracked and sank, and a storm of debris spiraled within the gravity field, crashing down toward "Gentleman" like a falling mountain.
Gasps erupted from the crowd.
The sheer scale of the attack covered more than half the arena. To the spectators, it looked like a purple ocean swallowing the battlefield whole.
"Gentleman's" expression shifted.
He tried to evade, but the invisible weight pressing down on him made movement difficult. His strength lay in speed, yet Issho's ability directly suppressed it.
Left with no choice, he lunged forward.
Even under the crushing gravity, his figure blurred into afterimages. His slender rapier cut through the air, carving a sharp silver arc as he attempted to split the incoming attack.
Far away in Mariejois, a man known as "Sky," Alabasta, watched with a faint frown.
"Careless," he muttered.
He knew "Gentleman's" strength better than anyone, and it was precisely because of that knowledge that he could see the mistake clearly. Holding back against an opponent like Issho was nothing short of foolish.
As expected, the silver slash failed to break the attack.
It only delayed it for a moment.
The next instant, the gravity wave crashed through, slamming directly into "Gentleman" and blasting him across the arena. His body smashed into the steel wall before being buried beneath a cascade of shattered rock.
The impact sent shockwaves rippling outward.
Even the spectators in the stands felt the pressure, but before it could reach them, darkness surged across the arena.
Teach's power spread silently, absorbing the excess force.
At the same time, an invisible barrier formed around him as his Haki stabilized the surrounding air, effortlessly neutralizing what remained.
Silence fell for a moment.
Then, from the rubble, a figure stirred.
"Cough… cough…"
"Gentleman" rose slowly, fragments of his mask falling away to reveal part of his face. His breathing was steady, but his gaze had changed.
A low, eerie laugh echoed across the arena.
"Hehehehe…"
A crimson aura began to seep from his body. Strange, vein-like patterns spread across his skin, pulsing as if alive. The killing intent surrounding him thickened, becoming almost tangible.
To weaker spectators, it felt as though hell itself had opened before their eyes.
Some among the strong narrowed their gaze.
This aura was familiar.
It carried a resemblance to the terrifying presence once displayed by Douglas Bullet.
Yet there was a crucial difference. Bullet had controlled that power. "Gentleman" did not.
His mind wavered, his composure slipping as the urge to slaughter overtook him.
In the eyes of true powerhouses, that alone made him flawed.
"I must kill you."
His voice sharpened as his figure vanished.
In the blink of an eye, he appeared before Issho, his blade thrusting forward with terrifying speed.
Issho did not move much.
Yet every strike was met, every angle blocked. His Observation Haki mapped the battlefield with perfect clarity, allowing him to respond without sight.
The clash intensified.
Blades flashed again and again, sparks scattering as steel collided at impossible speeds. To the audience, "Gentleman" seemed unstoppable, his attacks relentless and overwhelming.
And yet, Issho endured. His defense was impenetrable.
Time passed.
Minutes turned into hours. Then, without warning, Issho stepped back slightly. "If it continues like this, you will only run," he said quietly.
His blade shifted.
"Gravity Blade: Meteor."
The strike shot upward, disappearing into the sky. For a brief moment, nothing happened. Then, the atmosphere changed. A distant rumble echoed above.A faint red glow appeared in the heavens, growing larger with every passing second.
The crowd fell silent.
"What… is that?"
A meteor.
A blazing mass of fire and stone tore through the sky, dragged down by overwhelming gravity. Its speed far exceeded natural descent, accelerating violently as it fell.
The sky itself turned red.
Even from a distance, the pressure it generated could be felt.
Teach's expression shifted slightly as his Observation Haki confirmed it.
Darkness surged outward once more, blanketing the arena.
The meteor descended.
"Gentleman" tried to retreat, but the gravity field locked him in place. With no escape, he slashed upward, splitting the meteor in two.
It did not matter.
Both halves continued to fall.
One crashed toward him.
The other hovered briefly before being repelled by Issho and sent arcing into the distant sea.
Then, in the very moment "Gentleman" braced for impact, Issho moved again.
"Gravity Blade: Fierce Tiger."
The second strike landed cleanly.
Already pinned by gravity and battered by the meteor's descent, "Gentleman" could not defend in time. The attack struck him head-on, driving him into the shattered remains of the arena.
The battlefield was reduced to ruins.
What followed was not a quick finish, but a brutal grind.
The battle dragged on for three full hours.
By the end, the arena had been completely destroyed, exposing the hardened foundation beneath.
And "Gentleman"…
Collapsed.
His body was broken, his stamina exhausted. Only at the final moment, as his sanity flickered back, did he manage to surrender.
Otherwise, he might have lost consciousness entirely.
The outcome was clear.
Issho stood victorious.