One month later.
Upon an uncharted island somewhere in the New World, a massive roast of meat on the bone sizzled over a roaring bonfire.
The cut of meat was colossal, rivaling the proportions of a Giant.
Around the flames, Kenshin and the rest of the crew were each occupied with their own leisure.
Warm, radiant smiles curved across their faces.
Never before had they lived so untethered and free, and the unscripted journey along the way had drawn them into an intoxicating state of pure wonder.
Adventure truly was something easily addictive.
At that moment, Kenshin was thoroughly engrossed in a fresh issue of the newspaper. "Incredible! The Pirate King's right-hand man—the World's Greatest Swordsman!"
Printed prominently across the front page was the dispatch of a duel fought in a distant corner of the New World: Roronoa Zoro of the Straw Hat Pirates versus Hawkeye Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman.
According to reports, the clash had featured none of the protracted, grueling warfare the public had envisioned. It hadn't dragged on across days and nights. There was only a single strike!
With mere crossing of blades, the victor had been decided!
The victor... Roronoa Zoro of the Straw Hat Pirates!
From that moment forward, Zoro stood crowned as the World's Greatest Swordsman.
The moment the dispatch broke, it sent shockwaves reverberating through the entire world. The tempest ignited by Luffy's ascension to Pirate King had barely begun to settle, and now news broke of his crew member seizing the title of the world's apex swordsman, leaving the masses struck dumb in disbelief.
The papers also noted that the pirates branded as the Worst Generation's Supernovas were scouring the seas for news of the Straw Hat crew, clearly harboring lingering discontent over Luffy claiming the crown of Pirate King.
"If Drake heard this news, he'd definitely be blown away. As expected of the Straw Hat Pirates!" A sharp glint flared in Kenshin's eyes, a faint smile gracing his lips. "The World's Greatest Swordsman..."
"I'd love to test my steel against him!"
Hearing this, Bell leaned in, genuine awe flickering across his features.
The World's Greatest Swordsman was the ultimate opponent every blade master yearned to confront.
Back during the war, they had harbored the desire to cross swords with Zoro, but circumstances had never afforded them the opportunity.
"When we cross paths down the line, we definitely have to have ourselves a proper duel," Bell chuckled.
"You said it!" Kenshin and Bell exchanged fond, competitive grins.
"By the way, why isn't Drake back yet? He's taking forever. I can't wait to share the news with him."
"Drake went back to the Demon Warder to fetch the liquor," Ain remarked as she approached the roasting spit, leaning in for a gentle sniff before turning her eyes toward the swordsmen.
With a flick of her wrist, a slender dagger manifested in her hand and sank cleanly into the massive cut of meat with a soft shhk.
Carving open a sliver to inspect the interior, Ain smiled and called toward Bell, "Bell, it's roughly eighty percent done. I'll leave the rest to you."
"On it!" Bell acknowledged, turning to glance at Kenshin. "I'll go finish seasoning the feast. By the time Big Brother Drake returns, we should be ready to dig in."
Aboard the Demon Warder, Drake stood completely transfixed, his mind unable to settle for a long time as he stared at the rewards newly distributed by the System.
Not long ago, the missions had officially resolved.
First, the reward for the faction-building quest left Drake thoroughly stunned.
The reward was actually a colossal military fortress!
Spanning the breadth of an entire island!
The internal installations laid out within left Drake utterly speechless. He had originally intended to complain about how long this particular quest had dragged on, dragging its feet and stalling his plans.
Now, he promptly shut his mouth tight.
The facilities embedded throughout the complex were practically an ultimate training camp!
Even if an ordinary mortal stepped inside, by the time they walked out, they would likely emerge as a formidable powerhouse of notable renown.
Didn't that mean he could mass-produce top-tier combatants in endless legions?
When the time came, anyone walking out of those gates would command combat parameters comparable to Cipher Pol No. 9 at the bare minimum. Those with even a shred of natural genius could easily reach the tier of an Emperor crew's supreme commanders.
As for those blessed with pinnacle talent... there was no need to speak—the sky was the limit!
He could already envision just how terrifying the Dark Clan would become with the backing of such a stronghold.
Their regular infantry would fight at the caliber of elite Cipher Pol operatives; in battle, the outcome wouldn't even harbor the slightest suspense.
How could defeat ever exist as an option?
Naturally, the mission package included a vast assortment of miscellaneous supplies and armaments, but in Drake's eyes, those secondary items were of little consequence.
What followed, however, was the ultimate headline event: what exactly would the reward be for concluding the primary storyline quest?
[Demon Warder Infinite Energy Card!]
[Huimu Stone!]
The rewards for the final quest consisted solely of these two items.
Drake's eye twitched violently. What does this mean?
He could easily accept the Infinite Energy Card; after all, that was something he desperately required.
Yet could this truly be the extent of the final quest's payout? Compared to that colossal fortress, this felt multiple tiers lower in scale.
Furthermore, what on earth was this "Huimu Stone"?
Why had he never heard of such an artifact in his life?
Drake was thoroughly bewildered; the drop in expectations was simply too jarring to digest.
Had he not witnessed the lavish scale of the base reward, his expectations wouldn't have been set so astronomically high. Any rational man would assume the final quest of the entire narrative would carry the richest treasures.
How had it turned out looking so meager?
Drake finally fixed his gaze onto the stone labeled as the Huimu Stone.
Aside from a faint azure-green luminescence shimmering across its surface, the rock appeared entirely devoid of extraordinary features.
What's more... it was barely the size of a human skull.
What was this thing used for?
When he pulled up its item description, all that greeted his eyes was a massive question mark!
[?]
What kind of cryptic joke is this?
Just as Drake prepared to drag the System out for an interrogation, Kenshin's voice drifted through the hull from outside.
"Drake, couldn't find the rum? The meat is roasted to perfection! Everyone's waiting for you!"
Drake pulled his consciousness out of the mindscape in a flash, only now remembering that he had returned to the ship specifically to gather alcohol.
With a spatial warp, he materialized within the Demon Warder's storehouse. Sweeping his arm wide, he transferred the entire reserve of vintage liquor accumulated over their voyages into his dimensional storage.
Stepping off the Demon Warder, Drake strode toward Kenshin with broad, sweeping strides.
"Let's go! I've got the liquor secured—we drink until we drop today!" Seeing that the banquet was served, Drake cast the mystery of the stone to the back of his mind, quickening his pace toward their campsite.
That was prime Sea King meat he had been anticipating for days!
Today was a day for feast and unrestrained drink.
Drake harbored no lingering fears about drinking himself into a stupor now; after all, no mortal peril loomed over their heads anymore.
The moment he arrived at the clearing, Drake cast all restraint aside and tore into the food. Once he had satisfied his initial hunger, he began throwing back mug after mug of ale.
He sank straight into a state of blissful, self-absorbed indulgence.
Kenshin and the others had long grown accustomed to the sight; their captain might compromise on other matters, but when it came to a feast, he would never surrender an inch!
Gradually, however, the crew's expressions shifted from amusement into outright horror. Their eyes widened by degrees until their jaws hung slack in sheer stupefaction.
Drake was tossing down cup after cup in relentless succession. Within the span of a few breaths, a small mountain of empty liquor jugs had piled up beside his boots.
As if drinking from cups failed to satisfy the itch, he bypassed the mugs entirely, hoisting entire jugs and chugging them straight down his throat.
In a single unbroken draught, an entire jar of liquor vanished into his belly.
Letting out a long, steaming breath, Drake slammed the empty vessel heavily against the earth, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
He actually burst into laughter!
Kenshin and the others clearly saw a faint crimson flush blossoming across both of Drake's cheeks.
He was unmistakably... hammered!
And yet... what left them utterly flabbergasted was: since when did Drake possess this kind of monstrous alcohol tolerance?
How had he not collapsed flat on his face yet?!