"Is this duel still not over?"
Aboard the ships belonging to the various factions scattered across the sea, everyone who heard Rowan's shout wore expressions of utter disbelief.
After the previous exchange, it was clear to everyone that Hawkeye Mihawk was being completely suppressed by Rowan. The ghastly sword wound across Mihawk's chest was undeniable proof of that fact.
"According to Hawkeye's own words, Rowan hasn't even used his full strength yet?"
"Defeating Hawkeye Mihawk without going all out?! Just how terrifying is this Marine Godfather Rowan?!"
"Are they actually going to show their full power now?"
As they watched the two men facing each other on the island, everyone held their breath. They were so focused on Dachik Island that they didn't even notice several more ships arriving in the surrounding waters.
When Hawkeye Mihawk had turned around earlier to reveal his injury, most had assumed the duel was over, ending in a crushing defeat for the World's Greatest Swordsman. Some news agencies were already preparing to report back to their headquarters that the title of "World's Greatest" was about to change hands.
But now, it seemed the battle was far from finished.
On the island.
Hearing Rowan's shout, a trace of a smile appeared on Mihawk's face. The smile gradually widened until his hearty, sonorous laughter echoed across the entire battlefield. Suddenly, the laughter stopped. Mihawk's expression turned solemn, and he spoke clearly.
"Next, I certainly shall not disappoint you, Senior!"
"Yoru · Zenith!"
With a thunderous roar, Mihawk swung the Black Blade with everything he had. At that moment, with Mihawk as the center, the entire space within a half-kilometer radius suddenly turned pitch black! It was as if a massive shroud of black clouds had blotted out the sun, and as seconds passed, the light continued to fade until it vanished.
"What is that?!" "The entire space... it turned black..."
The spectators were filled with horror. Even Red-Haired Shanks and Dark King Rayleigh showed looks of profound shock.
"He actually trained his swordsmanship to this level?!" Shanks muttered to himself. As a Yonko who had traveled the world and a top-tier swordsman himself, he knew the reason behind this phenomenon.
Mihawk's mastery of the sword had reached the point where he could alter the very properties of a space! To change an environment through individual power was a feat usually reserved for Logia-type Devil Fruit users who had reached the absolute peak of their development, or certain specialized Paramecia types.
But Mihawk was different. He wasn't a Devil Fruit user. He was just an ordinary human! A pure swordsman! And yet, he had forced the world to change through swordsmanship alone.
Rayleigh understood this as well. He let out a loud laugh, downed a swig of wine, and whispered, "The younger generation is truly to be feared... truly to be feared..."
Within that half-kilometer radius, everything belonged to Mihawk. If he willed it, his slashes could manifest anywhere within that darkened zone. This was the ultimate sword technique Mihawk had comprehended during his recent month of bitter cultivation: Yoru · Zenith.
This move was perfectly attuned to his Supreme Grade blade, the Black Blade Yoru. With this technique, Mihawk was confident that, at full power, he could take down even a Yonko-level powerhouse. This was the strongest strike of his life.
Tsh!
A black streak of sword ki abruptly appeared at Rowan's side, slicing a hole in his shirt. Then, another appeared, cutting three hairs from his beard. A moment later, a slit appeared in his trousers. As the space grew darker and darker, these lethal streaks of sword ki multiplied.
But Rowan didn't move. He was waiting. He was waiting for the darkness to become absolute, for the point where one couldn't even see their own hand in front of their face. That would be the moment the space was saturated with sword ki—the moment Mihawk would consolidate it all into his final, ultimate strike.
Rowan wanted to see exactly how powerful that strike would be.
Tsh! Tsh!
Time passed. The darkness deepened. More and more cuts appeared on Rowan's clothes. However, under the protection of his max-level Armament Haki, the sword ki was unable to break his skin.
"Now."
When the space was completely engulfed—appearing to outsiders as a massive black sphere—Rowan snapped his eyes open, a brilliant light flashing within them. He could feel it. Directly in front of him, an attack of staggering intensity was rushing toward him. It felt as if, under this black slash, anything and everything could be severed.
Including space. Including light.
"Is this your strongest strike?! World's Greatest Swordsman Hawkeye Mihawk... in the Way of the Sword, I, Rowan... acknowledge you!"
Rowan laughed boisterously. To have carved the path of swordsmanship this far through sheer individual effort—Mihawk deserved this praise! Anyone else, any other swordsman in the world, would have found this strike impossible to block.
But he was different. He was Rowan! His mastery of the sword had already reached the absolute limit of what was possible in this world.
Rowan gripped his hilt tight. Every ounce of his sword aura and intent flooded into the blade. Then, he delivered a single, unadorned slash. The peak of swordsmanship is nothing more than simplifying the complex. No named technique was the strongest technique of all!
The spectators only saw the darkness reach its peak before a sudden flash of sword-light erupted from within, sweeping across the field with irresistible power! In an instant, not a single shred of darkness remained between heaven and earth.
ZING!
The two sword kais collided. Mihawk's pitch-black slash collapsed instantly, unable to put up any resistance. Then, a spray of blood erupted from Mihawk's chest, and he was sent flying.
BAM!
Mihawk smashed into a thick tree and slumped to the ground. His aura was withered; there was not a trace of sword intent left in him. The wound on his right chest had nearly carved through his entire torso, exposing bone. Because of internal injuries, blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his face was deathly pale.
Despite the severity of his injuries, Mihawk refused to stay down. He forced himself into a half-kneeling position, stubbornly using the Black Blade to prop up his body. He looked up at Rowan, his voice filled with confusion. "Senior... why did you do that...?"
Rowan's strike had been too strong—far beyond his imagination. By all rights, he should have died under that blade. He would have been content; he had seen the absolute pinnacle of the sword. He had witnessed a height he was still far from reaching. To him, he could have died without regrets.
To hear the Way in the morning, and die in the evening—one can die content!
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