Sparks flew! Masamune leapt backwards! An enormous spinosaurus lunged forward! Massive blade in its sharp toothed Maw! It swiped from left then to the right! Masamune brought his singular sword, Jaeger, up to to block the the blade! A Massive reverberation of clanging metal against metal sounded out!
"A Black blade like that has no use in your hands…" Hannibal spoke. Arms crossed. He was like a breeder or a catcher. Fostering his own eventual hunt to release into the wild. Masamune hadn't even asked. There was an unspoken agreement that he would train him. His ferocity was deserving of that.
It had been 4 days since the paper of Leroy's plan had gotten to him. Much like Zeke, Hannibal explained the basics of Haki to Masamune. But in a far more dumbed down and Swordsmanship focused lens.
'What is a Swordsman?' was what Hannibal had asked. To his surprised. Masamune responded with 'A man who understands and lives by the blade through out his life.'
'Poetic.' The Apex had complimented. 'But no. A True swordsman. Yes. But in this world. That is merely a tactic to becoming the strongest. Not what defines it. A swordsman is any person who relies upon their blade. If you carry a sword but rely on Fruit Powers or Haki. No you are not. But if you wield a blade, you unsheath it to show that you are ready for battle. Rather you have skill, strength, or tact. You are a swordsman. This is why my title is one that not many have the capacity to achieve.'
'It means coming to terms with the fact that Swordsmen ship is not something sacred taht everyone abides by if they wield a blade. It is a weapon like any other. And to be able to over come the plebians, the amateurs, the heavy handed monsters. You'll need to understand that in a sword fight. There are no rules. Two men draw blades on each other. Someone is bound bleed. And so it should be.'
'Only a true swordsmen, who knows tact. Strength. Skill. Utilities. Their abilities and the like. Can properly become the strongest. Black hair is perhaps the second strongest Swordsmen in the world. But he does not have skill like I do. And that was why I won. Roger was a swordsmen who was known for his brute approach to swordplay. Wielding his blade as if it were a blunt weapon. But it still allowed him to become the strongest man of his era and one of the strongest in history.'
'Until I came around.' He said with no ounce of Ego. No sense of sarcasm. Just superiority.
"A Black blade is the pinnacle of a swordsman's craft!" He paced back and forth "For you to use another masters Blackblade, is almost a disgrace. But it gives you the advantage you need. It bolsters your strength. Its heft allows for you to swing with more force. And that ability allows for you to utilize flames. But in the hands of Beowulf. It as an extension of him. It as second nature. His intentions. His wants. His goals. All funneled through that blade that only he could utilize." He held his arms crossed. Watching the fight continue.
'Forced to use his non-dominant hand with a sword usually in the other. It'll make him confront how he wields that blade. He's certainly mastered the Breath.' The Breath, or more exactly, The Breath of Steel. The ability to decide what to cut and what not to cut through the precision, finesse, follow through and strength of a swordsman's body. Allowing him to cut Diamond or barely Scratch paper by understanding the movement of his blade. And switching between them to best utilize ones energy.
The Spinosaurus reeled back in pain as Masamune delivered a harsh slash of brute force into the leg of the Reptile. 'Using the concentrated force of the blades edge with his pure strength allows him to deal a lot of damage.'
Then the Swordsmen leapt up! Gripped the sword with both hands and swung with mighty force! A blade of wind razor sharp zipped through the air with meteoric speed and sliced through the reptiles flesh and its blade in one clean strike! 'Finese. Allowing him to cause total focused energy, propel air even with out Firmament or Conduit to bolster it. Truly cutting it'
"Hah…Hah…Hah…" Around them were dozens of Terror Lizard corpses known as Dinoblades. This Island was constantly attacked by people wishing to take Hannibals head. Overtime, these reptiles that had been brought by 'The Lizard King' learned from their targets. They were the epitome of brute force swordsmanship. Raw primal force concentrated into the thousands of blades left behind by their previous owners at the end of their lives.
Kale pulled his bandana from his head. Revealing that now, in only a few weeks since Desamare. He already had a permanent scar right a cross the bridge of his nose.
"You have exceptional endurance. Your swordsmen ship is truly something to be hold." Wolfheart began. His white hair slicked back, head lacking his standard adornments. But his face was still covered.
"But?" Masamune began "I hear a caveat in there."
"You lack power. Your body is strong. You may have been beat those Beasts. Combat against CPA. But those are beast. Stagnant. Instincts and strength. No thought. No strategy they wouldn't already use without a blade. And yet here you are. Left bloodied after only a few."
"They're strong." The Ronin argued.
"Or you are simply weak. You've yet to even bring out a fraction of your Haki. Your repressed. The points of flow are sealed tight. Unlike your captain who had his unlocked by immense strength. Yours are still far to tight. That Gontoryu? An impressive and instinctual usage of hardening you aura after shaping it with basic fundamentals and skills of Haki. Gives four arms and replicates a sharp edge for you to use. But only momentarily."
In their fight to gauge his strength yet again. Masamune had utilized Gontoryu. But it was not enough. Hannibal spoke on how a technique such as that will only ever boost strength. But never allow you to reach your pinnacle. Even if he refined it. It would only be a step towards his full power. It reminded him of Leroy's Gear 3. Momentary. But only a step toward his peak.
And that peak was nothing without Haki.
Masamune sighed in anger and bowed in thanks. Slowly sheathing Jager. 'I need more abilities. Something that can truly carry me to his peak' He said as his eyes watched as Wolfheart walked away.
Masamune's goal was a simple one. Get stronger. Get stronger so that he can protect his crew. Noir, Leroy and Kirk can handle the Strategy, the Politics and the Ideas. Sure, he was smart. But his position and his role was that of strength. Offense against opponents that can't be handled by others, stronger or weaker. He was a battering ram busting through obstacles that got in the way of the crew. Simple as.
Alice, Hannibal and Masamune sat at a long table.
Hannibal.
Was unmasked.
It was such a casual sight. His face was lean. With strong cheekbones and a thin jaw. Golden layered eyes that were almost red the closer in they got. His hair was clean and stark white. Slicked back. But most distinctly of all for a man that was said to have never had his face shown on Bounty posters or nearly any opponent. Was a massive scar that was like a crater of marks and curves of tissue.
A Mensur. Or a Fencing Scar. A wound gotten either accidentally or on purpose shortly into a Swordsman's career. It was forced to be worse and scar horribly as a badge of honor and courage by packing horse hair into it, and allowing it to worsen before extracting and allowing it to harden and stiffen into a scar.
Wolfheart ate in near total juxtaposition to his strength and ferver. He was slow. Methodical. Slicing the rare steak in front of him with freshly stoned cutlery and sipping on aged wine, liquor, a cocktail and water. A tour of taste for a palette as refined as his skill and strength.
Masamune on the other hand…Was becoming quite fond of drink. It allowed him to relax. And feel loose and limber even after the most intense of training. Hannibal had said that if he wanted to drink. He should. A swordsman should deny himself of things for the sake of efficiency when those very things could inspire him. A true swordsmen not only lives their life by the blade. But also their down time. And the absence of it as a defining aspect.
"You uhh…Have been doin pretty good Kaley!" Alice said. Looking between the two stoics. "You think you'll achieve Haki anytime soon?" She continued to speak. But Masamune did not answer. He was deep in thought.
"Maybe even get some new swords!" She was cut off by the deep voice of Hannibal "Zombie Girl. If the man doesn't want to speak then it's best to not push."
"Oh! Right yeah yeah…" She recoiled and shrunk back. She hadn't been sober like this for years. She was still getting used to having people to talk to instead of just Nekomia, Miura and Koru.
"Oi. Goth." Masamune said blunty. Causing alice to give a silly look as she pointed to herself. "Me?"
"Yeah. You. You think you'll be able to ever bring those big ass lizard back?" He smirked a toothy grin.
"Oh…I see." Hannibal commented
"Yeah! It should be possible. But I don't have Koru here to Corrupt them and make them stronger…But I should be able to get their functions to focus only on explosive strength…" She said pouting as she thought.
"Good enough for me…I'm going back out. Still not sore." He said. Hannibal wanted to reprimand that man. But if his prey starved itself on accident. Then he can't interject. He'll either learn or fail.
A week later. A zombie of a man that had once came to Hannibals Island sparred with Masamune. He utilized a curved Falchon. And brought it down with expert skill! Masamune crossed his blades and, the Kikumori and Jager in his hands as the VI was in his teeth.
"Masamune! Have you learned about Remedies?" Hannibal asked. Alice crossing her legs in a pair of short shorts, lace garter belt, and a corset continued to 'Revive' or Fuel the Zombie.
"Those…Strategies to remember no matter the opponent?" He asked. Mouth muffled by the orange hilt of his sword.
"Percisely. Demonstrate them for me will you. Explain the basics so that even Alice can understand." He sighed and kept his eyes unblinking on Masamune "Hey!" Alice swatted the pant leg of the Strongest Swordsmen to whom didn't bat an eye.
"Ugh…Fine." He muffled out. "Theres Guard." He leapt back and landed with a gently thud. He crossed his swords flat, put his knee forward as his rear one was extended. The blades laid across his knee.
"Good. Next" Hannibal commanded
"The Lie…" When your opponent feints, telegraphs or attacks offensively. The zombie dashed forward! Grabbing the top of the blade to use it as two handed wide upward slash!
"The Remedy!" He slides his blades off his knee, still crossed and forced the blade into the ground! Stopping the Falchon from moving! "And then- The Strike of Time!"
Offensive retaliation! With his expert and supernatural properoception, environmental position and awareness and extraordinary muscles, Masamune whipped his head to the side! Slicing the the head of the Zombie off and causing it to fly through the air and into Alice's lap!
"Grah…" It said.
"EECK! FUCK!" She screamed and tossed it away "Ew Ew Ew!!!"
"You make the zombies and yet you are disgusted by them." Hannibal questions.
"I like dead things and macabre things not rotting things! Koru's Zombies were always so much cuter than these gak-" She gags…
"Hah…" Wolfheart sighs.
"Masamune. Its still standing. Demonstrate be an Offense, Defensive and Opportune Remedy." He pointed to the still standing corpse whos blade was held out in a read position.
"Remedy for Thrust!" He mimics the motion as if the zombie thrust! And making a circular motion with the tip of Jager. Don't meet the attack head on, instead use the momentum to push it out of the way with a circular motion. Masamune finished by stopping short of a slash to the head that was no longer there.
"High Attack." He crouches. Crosses his blades above his head. And then uses it for an immediate offense by thrusting forward and slashing at the stomach.
"Good. Leaves open during their back pedal." Hannibal said.
"And finally for range." He acts the motion as if the Corpse thrusted grabbed the back of the blade and pulled the corpse close! Where he then flushed himself next to the blade allowing for an opportune slash to the face at close quarters.
Clap.
Hannibal clapped once. His leather gloves giving a crisp snap of hide against hide. "Good. Very good."
"There exist an extension of these techniques that allow and utlize your blade and your Haki. One of which you already know the basic of. A Flying Slash. Or Remedy of Pressure. Explain the structure of how. The war, lie and the like.
"The Ward, is distance. Any amount beyond the reach of your opponents sword of attack. The Lie is that they will attempt to close that distance somehow. Remedy is to utilize your strength to generate a blast of air, concentrated of a blast of air. The offense is using it for a specific target and ceasing action. Offense."
He went through the motions. Leapt backwards. Gripped his sword. And released a Flying Slash that was a curving head on twister! Caused by the precise flick and movement of his hands, wrist and arm.
Another week passed. And Masamune did not yet gain access to even a drop of his Haki. But Hannibal was forcing the swordsmen into more and more extreme scenarios. Forced him to be blindfolded. Got rid of his swords to use his hands and fist with Empty Palm Style.
A style that utilizes grapples and empty palm strikes, and uses muscle to generate wind attacks all in hope to quickly get a blade in hand.
"You have four years, Masamune. But I'm beginning to think that you possibly couldn't achieve it even in 10! Are you truly the man that declared to his captain that-" Before it even happened. He smirked.
In a dash Masamune killed ten dinosaurs around him and shattered their steel and dashed towards Hannibal! Swords ready to thrust! But when they were a foot away from his neck! They ceased all momentum. There…Was nothing! No object between the sharp blade and the Strongest's neck.
"Not even a toothpick is needed in such a feeble display." With a buck of his body! A massive explosion of energy pushed Kale backwards! He looked up! Quickly began to recenter himself, readying for a remedy-
But…
In front of him was a monster-
Neigh.
A Demon.
From Masamune's perspective. Hannibal had shifted into a massive pillar of black flame that took on the shape of a person. Eyes sharp like golden blades, stuck in a permanent scowl. The blade, Orion. That black blade he made famous and it, him as well. Held out to the side, Crackling energy of streaks of lighting and monstrous aura surrounded the blade!
"You've not done well to take care of yourself Masamune" The words echoed in his mind. They did not come from the thing in front of him.
"Slacking. You even allowed one of your blades to dull….And not the one that you can force to be such."
'The Sixth…I haven't stoned it since Desamare….' Masamune was frozen.
"You are going to be destroyed." He felt malice. Hatred…Pure unadulterated violence emanating from that blade! That aura! That monster! All at once! 'Move' his voice screamed internally as he gripped his swords tight and began to move!
But before he could even move a centimeter. The demon that was over 50 meters away. Was in front of him that monstrous form exploding off of him as he came to a stop! The wind from his sudden action exploded around! The tip of Orion was against Masamunes Throat!
The aura. Lightning. And Malice was gone…. "And Reforged." Hannibal finished.
"If I'm to be your teacher. I will reprimand you like one. If you are to me my student you are going to follow my instructions and learn. Not just retain what I say but learn and grow it!" His eyes pierced the man in front of him.
Despite his words that were filled with possibility…
Kale sensed that this man…
Was not Human.
"By the time these four years are over. You will no longer be Masamune Kale. You will have been reborn. With a new outlook. Strength. Philosophy. And name…." He narrowed and leaned closer. Two hand great sword not even moving a millimeter as he did. As if it were locked spatially.
"Are you ready to die, son?" He asked. There was no maybe. Now perhaps. Or later. There was no tomorrow but the one that was going to be accepted or denied by the Swordsmen in front of him.
With a look of conviction in his eyes. He pierced back into his teacher and goal. The Sixth in his mouth fell. All three swords clattering against the dirt and enormous courtyard.
That same will that he had when he declared he'd never loose again. He carried the words from the depths of his very soul.
"Yes."
Hannibal smirked beneath his mask…"Good."
For the Next Four Years, Masamune Kale will die. And in his place a Saint of the Blade will be born again carrying all those failures and victories to a new Horizon for when he meets his crew again….