Chapter Sixty-Six: Duel of the Black Blades (Please vote for recommendations, please vote for monthly tickets)

In that instant, Brook and Baggio moved simultaneously. A skeleton and a zombie unleashed their strongest sword techniques to meet the approaching slash. Just as Brook was about to be obliterated by the blow, Buffon darted forward and pulled the skeleton back to safety.

When Baggio’s Dragon-Slaying Slash collided with the incoming attack, a massive shockwave erupted in the air, spreading across the surface of the sea. If not for the three giants stabilizing the Juventus, the waves would surely have capsized the ship.

“Yo-ho-ho-ho! Thank you for saving my life again, Brother Buffon!” Brook’s words, as always, were irreverent and cheerful.

Buffon waved his hand in silence, turning to face the direction from which the slash had come. As the sea calmed once more, they saw, on the horizon, a black coffin lid with a sail attached, slowly gliding toward the Juventus.

Atop the coffin sat a man, knees drawn to his chest, wearing a black top hat adorned with white fur. His red-patterned shirt was open at the chest, revealing a cross pendant. His yellow eyes, sharp as an eagle’s, glimmered with a piercing gaze. He sported a short beard, and a massive sword shaped like a cross was strapped to his back. On either side of him, two candles burned with eerie green flames.

Any pirate unaware of the circumstances would surely think Death himself had come to collect their debts.

But Buffon knew that, in truth, the man approaching was little different from the reaper.

“Hawkeye Mihawk, why is he here?” Reiju’s voice lost its usual lightness, and she gripped a pink canister marked with the number zero, ready to transform at a moment’s notice.

Buffon’s voice sounded: “No need.”

To Buffon’s mind, if Mihawk truly intended to fight, even Reiju’s father couldn’t help them, let alone Reiju herself.

Buffon stepped to the rail, calmly watching the coffin boat drifting ever closer to the Juventus, his fighting spirit surging. If Hawkeye was willing to seriously duel him, it would be the strongest opponent he had yet faced in this world.

As the coffin boat drew near, Mihawk leaped lightly onto the deck. He glanced coldly at Baggio, who had intercepted his attack, then turned to Buffon and asked, “Are you the one who obtained Shanks’s left arm?”

Buffon nodded, neither denying nor confirming.

This had become a semi-public rumor among the navy, and with Mihawk’s status as one of the Seven Warlords and his connection to Shanks, it was hardly difficult for him to know. Yet how Mihawk found him here was a mystery to Buffon.

Dracule Mihawk, known as Hawkeye Mihawk, was hailed as “the world’s greatest swordsman.” The acknowledged strongest among the Seven Warlords, he was the lifelong target of Roronoa Zoro.

Mihawk’s yellow eyes, sharp as an eagle’s, struck fear into even the strongest warriors, earning him the moniker Hawkeye. During the Summit War, he observed Luffy, remarking, “It’s not ability or technique that allows him to gather everyone present as his comrades.” This “Eagle Eye” insight was Mihawk’s gift in swordsmanship, enabling him to perceive the essence of things and granting him the power to confront any foe.

“Very well. Let me see how much of Shanks’s strength this zombie possesses.” Mihawk drew the cross-shaped sword from his chest, pointing it at Baggio.

Though zombies do not fear sunlight, Buffon had nonetheless woven a cloak and mask for Baggio, as his identity as Rosinante was best kept secret.

Baggio, beneath the cloak, was angered by Hawkeye’s disregard. He gripped the hilt of Autumn Water at his waist and spoke seriously: “After transformation, use that blade!”

Mihawk replied calmly, “That depends on whether you have the skill.”

Buffon did not intervene; he wished to use Baggio, his most familiar sparring partner, to gauge Mihawk’s strength.

As for whether Mihawk would aid Shanks in reclaiming his arm, Buffon had no concern. Shanks, as one of the Four Emperors, possessed his own pride; if he wanted it back, he would come himself. Mihawk’s character would not allow such interference; his presence here was surely out of curiosity.

Baggio did not use his Dragon-Slaying Slash. Instead, he drew Autumn Water, spun the blade in a flourish, and attacked Mihawk.

As Autumn Water left its sheath, it shimmered with a faint purple glow. The blade’s deep violet-black body and red serrated floral pattern instantly caught Mihawk’s attention.

“Reverse T-pattern with random blade edges—wonder which of the twenty-one Great Grade swords this one is?”

Mihawk’s black blade, Yoru, was one of the world’s twelve Supreme Grade swords, its blade bearing a random T-shaped floral pattern, renowned as the world’s strongest black sword.

Hawkeye asked, but Baggio gave no reply, pressing his attack. Mihawk drew the small cross-shaped sword at his chest to meet him.

Baggio’s technique differed from his usual pursuit of ultimate power and speed. His pace was undiminished, but the frequency of his strikes multiplied, each blow landing unpredictably, confounding the observer.

Yet Mihawk’s small cross sword easily deflected every attack, always in place at the crucial moment.

Others might not see clearly, but Buffon’s keen eyes could discern that Mihawk’s movements, though appearing casual, were anything but simple.

Baggio’s strikes were exceptionally swift; without preemptive prediction, it would be impossible to counter so effortlessly.

To Buffon’s eyes, Mihawk’s blade was always just ahead of Baggio’s trajectory, anticipating each attack.

After Baggio had unleashed a total of 357 strikes, Hawkeye leaped back to stand beside his black blade, Yoru. He grasped its hilt with one hand, his yellow eyes gleaming with intimidating light.

“Use your left hand. I’ll use the black blade.”

Baggio nodded, switching the sword to his left hand, his face showing a hint of excitement.

Baggio charged swiftly, swinging his blade from left to right across Mihawk’s chest, blocked by Mihawk’s sword.

The second strike, again from left to right, targeted Mihawk’s right biceps.

For an ordinary swordsman, this would be difficult to defend, but Hawkeye was the world’s greatest swordsman; it posed no challenge.

He gripped the black blade in his right hand, twisting his wrist so the blade ran parallel to his arm.

Clang—the two blades met, producing a metallic screech that sent chills down their spines.

“Yo-ho-ho-ho! Brother Buffon, what is this technique Baggio’s using?” Brook asked with curiosity.

“Eight-Slash Execution,” Buffon replied calmly.

Baggio withdrew his blade and struck again, the third slash sweeping at Mihawk’s thigh. Mihawk did not block this time, but retreated half a step to evade.

It was the first time Mihawk had retreated in their duel.

Baggio’s hands did not pause; the fourth and fifth slashes came swiftly, cutting across Mihawk’s forearm and elbow.

Mihawk retreated another half step, dodging both.

The sixth and seventh slashes swept at Mihawk’s shin and knee.

Three times was enough—this time Mihawk met the attack, the black blade shimmering with green light as it clashed with Autumn Water.

Clang, clang—two shockwaves rippled from the collision, cracking the wooden railings of the Juventus.

Buffon frowned, sighing inwardly, “Fight if you must, but don’t wreck my Juventus.”

At that moment, Baggio unleashed the eighth slash, aiming straight for Mihawk’s neck.

As he struck, Baggio murmured, “Eight-Slash Execution: Decapitation!”

Mihawk leaned back to dodge, then countered with a powerful swing, a surge of green light slashing toward Baggio’s waist.