STEP.
STEP.
From the very center of the Warlord formation, standing amidst the chaos like a solitary, immovable mountain, a man who had remained entirely still since the war began slowly stepped forward.
They said he had eyes like a Hawk's.
He was the World's Strongest Swordsman.
Dracule Mihawk, the World's Strongest Swordsman, possessed an aura that commanded absolute, unquestioning respect from the heavens themselves. He wore an elegant, dark, gothic longcoat, his wide-brimmed feathered hat casting a sharp, intimidating shadow over his piercing, hawk-like golden eyes.
Mihawk was profoundly bored. He had swung his blade once at Whitebeard, only to have the flying slash intercepted by Diamond Jozu. Since then, he had merely observed the messy, unrefined brawling of inferior men with total apathy.
But as his golden eyes tracked slowly across the frozen bay, they locked onto the three rookies sprinting toward the scaffold.
Mihawk looked at the blond cook. He looked at the boy in the straw hat. And then, his piercing gaze settled on the green-haired swordsman wielding three blades.
Mihawk remembered Roronoa Zoro from the Baratie. He remembered the fierce, unbroken spirit of a man who would rather die facing his opponent than take a wound to his back. For a brief, fleeting microsecond, Mihawk considered stepping into their path. He considered drawing his blade to see how much the boy had grown.
Mihawk's hand hovered over his hilt, but then he slowly lowered it.
'...No', Mihawk thought, his golden eyes narrowing slightly.
'Too soon.'
Dismissing the Straw Hats, Mihawk shifted his gaze further across the bloody ice. His eyes locked onto the man in the pristine black coat.
'Light Yagami.'
That's right.
The False Deity.
Mihawk wasn't particularly interested in this so-called False Deity until now, but...
Mihawk watched as Light casually severed a pirate in half, then instantly shattered a Marine's rapier to crush his chest. Mihawk's mind immediately recognized the absolute, flawless efficiency of the movements.
'A saber', Mihawk noted internally, watching the curve of the black blade.
'Not a sword but...' Mihawk casually touched the small, cross-shaped dagger hanging around his own neck.
'A blade is a blade. '
The intent behind the cut is what defines the swordsman.
And the intent radiating from Light Yagami was unrelenting and utterly uncompromising. Whether it was conviction or arrogance, he couldn't tell.
Mihawk felt a rare, undeniable spark of interest ignite in his chest.
He wanted to test this False Deity.
He could see this man's swordsmanship was formidable.
But... how far was he from the top?
Could he have found another seed like Roronoa?
GRIP.
Mihawk slowly reached over his shoulder. He gripped the massive, ornate cross-shaped hilt of Yoru, the Black Blade, one of the twelve Supreme Grade swords in the world.
He didn't take a fighting stance. He didn't tense his muscles. He simply drew the colossal blade, planted his feet firmly on the ice, and swung Yoru in a smooth, effortless, vertical arc aimed directly at Light Yagami, who was over three hundred yards away.
SLASHHHHHH!
There was no Haki infused in this strike. There was no Devil Fruit power.
It was an expression of pure, unadulterated swordsmanship. It was the absolute pinnacle of physical cutting power.
The sheer, overwhelming volume of air displaced by the swing was apocalyptic.
A colossal, terrifyingly massive crescent of pure, compressed kinetic force erupted from the edge of the Black Blade. The vertical shockwave screamed across the frozen bay, effortlessly cleaving the solid ice entirely in half. It parted the frozen sea like a god dividing the earth, creating a massive, bottomless canyon that violently swallowed dozens of fighting men in its path.
CRRRRRRRRR!
The sound of the screaming ice was deafening.
Monkey D. Luffy, Roronoa Zoro, and Sanji abruptly stopped their sprint as the massive tremor shook the ground beneath them.
Zoro turned his head, his eyes widening to the size of a saucer.
The wind pressure generated by the passing vertical slash violently whipped Zoro's green hair. He felt the sheer, raw intensity of the cut.
He recognized it instantly. It was the exact same feeling that had nearly cleaved his chest in two back in the East Blue, but magnified to a scale that completely defied logic.
Zoro's breath hitched in his throat. His hands, gripping Wado Ichimonji and Sandai Kitetsu, actually began to tremble. It wasn't out of fear. It was out of a profound, overwhelming awe.
'That's... that's the pinnacle'
Zoro thought, his heart hammering against his ribs as he watched the colossal vertical slash tear across the battlefield.
SQUELCH.
A hundred yards away, Light Yagami was in the process of pulling his black saber from the chest of a orrupt Marine Commander.
"Ha...."
He didn't even look up as the screaming, apocalyptic vertical slash approached. His Level 5 Observation Haki had already calculated its trajectory, speed, and mass.
"Now what in the hell."
He had already sensed the gothic vampire cosplayer swinging at him for no reason.
It wasn't until the towering wall of kinetic force had crossed more than half the distance, threatening to completely engulf him, that Light finally turned his head.
His dark eyes narrowed in intense irritation.
His genius had already figured out this World's Strongest Swordsman's intentions.
He was busy executing sinners, and this Warlord had the audacity to throw an oversized wind-blade at him like a challenge in a sparring dojo.
Testing his swordsmanship?
Did he think he was here to be jolly with some swordsman?
"Annoying." Light muttered, thoroughly irritated.
.
.
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A/N: *coughs * Well, this war should go on for a pretty couple of chapters.
{read 30+ advanced chapters at patreon(dot)com/Glivaria}