"Throw your full strength into this sponge. Let's see just how powerful you really are."
Ritter did as instructed. He clenched his fist, muscles coiling like drawn steel cables, and swung with everything he had.
Boom!
The sponge block split clean through, collapsing into torn fragments as if it had been nothing more than paper.
The one-armed old blacksmith didn't even blink. As if he had been expecting this outcome all along, he simply grunted, reached into a corner, and dragged out an even larger block.
"Try this one."
Ritter obliged again, slamming his fist forward. Another deafening bang! and another sponge shattered in pieces.
He scratched his head, embarrassed. "Ah, sorry about that. Guess I don't really know my own strength…"
Before he could say more, the old man suddenly bellowed, waving his massive hammer as though he were chasing off flies. "Out! Out, all of you! You're wasting my time in here!"
Ritter stumbled backward, nearly tripping over the threshold as the old man herded them toward the door like unruly children. With one hand he scooped up Ritter's sword, glaring with feverish eyes full of obsession for weapon-crafting.
"Hey! That's my sword!" Ritter protested.
"Now it's mine!" the blacksmith barked, slamming the heavy iron door shut. They heard the metallic clunk of locks sliding into place. "Come back in three days!"
On the doorstep, the entire Blood Dawn crew exchanged bewildered looks.
Enel's temple throbbed with anger. Sparks of lightning snapped across his skin. "That old fool dares insult me? One thunderbolt from this god and "
"Whoa, calm down!" Ritter quickly blocked him, raising both hands. He was already used to this sort of treatment; it wasn't the first time some eccentric craftsman had thrown him out. And anyway, it wasn't like Tom the shipwright hadn't done the same when working on the Oro Jackson.
"Relax." Perona drifted lazily in the air, a lollipop dangling from her lips as she spoke. "Didn't you see the way that geezer looked at Ritter's sword? Same eyes Tom had when he first saw Adam wood. Pure obsession."
Sure enough, the old man's apprentices soon appeared, sweating as they pushed carts loaded with seastone bricks into the forge. One cart after another disappeared inside.
Ritter stiffened. He turned to Tesoro with a dry laugh. "…We brought enough money, right?"
For once, Tesoro didn't answer immediately. His golden eyes flickered uneasily. Even he wasn't sure. To see a blacksmith stockpile so much seastone materials so rare they were practically priceless meant this island was no ordinary place. "I'll have more funds brought in, just in case."
Time dragged. Three days passed like molasses, each minute gnawing at Ritter's impatience. He could only imagine what his beloved sword was becoming inside that furnace.
At last, the iron doors burst open.
"Finished!"
The one-armed blacksmith stood there, sweat dripping down his face, yet his posture radiated pride. He cradled a sword in his arms like it was his own child, tilting his head toward the sky at a dramatic forty-five degrees. His eyes shone so brightly they practically screamed ask me, ask me what I made!
Ritter swallowed, then asked cautiously. "So… Master, how's my sword?"
The old man didn't answer with words. Instead, he held the weapon aloft. The transformation left Ritter and his crew breathless.
The once modest Black Tide Greatsword had become something otherworldly. Its blade gleamed a deep, coagulated crimson, as if forged from solid blood. Veins of seastone inlaid across its length had formed jagged dragon-scale patterns that seemed alive with menace.
It was brutal. Beautiful. Terrifying.
"Here," the old man said gruffly, tossing the blade to Ritter. "Try it."
Ritter caught it and nearly dropped it. The sheer weight dragged at his arm like a mountain chain. His boots sank into the ground, cracking the stone beneath him. His entire right arm bulged with strain.
"What the ?! How heavy is this thing?"
"Base weight, eight tons," the blacksmith replied smugly. "But that's only the beginning. Feed your haki into it."
Ritter's eyes widened. He willed his Armament Haki into the sword.
"Crack… crack… crack…"
The dragon-scale patterns lit up one by one, glowing with an ominous red light. The blade grew denser, heavier, more dangerous by the second. Fifteen tons… twenty…
"Stop! Stop, you fool!" the old man shouted, panic replacing his pride. "You'll bring the whole forge down around us!"
Ritter eased off, panting in awe. His fingers traced along the hilt lovingly. "Old man… this isn't just the Black Tide anymore, is it?"
"Of course not." A mysterious smile creased the blacksmith's scarred face. "From this day forth, its name is Black Tide: Blood Dragon Calamity."
The name alone sent shivers down the crew's spines. Ritter's eyes sparkled like a child unwrapping his first Christmas present. The last time he had felt such excitement was when Tom had unveiled the Blumarine Jackson.
"Tesoro! Quick, pay the man!"
Tesoro sighed, waving his hand. At the docks, a merchant ship bearing the Blood Dawn's flag had already been prepared. Its holds bulged with treasure.
"This should suffice," Tesoro said coolly. "If not, I'll bring two more ships."
The blacksmith blinked. He had only expected a modest payment, maybe enough to keep his forge burning. To be offered a ship full of gold left him speechless. He didn't argue; he accepted the entire vessel and shooed them away with little ceremony, too giddy over his creation to linger on details.
Back aboard the Nirvana, Ritter leaned against the rail, gazing at the shrinking outline of Forging Island. He chuckled and scratched his head. "Well, looks like I owe another big favor. Not every day you walk away with a blade like this."
He knew full well how rare seastone was. Even Kaido had risen to power partly through trafficking it, building his empire from the resource's scarcity. The blacksmith had provided all the materials himself saving Ritter endless time and risk.
Now, the greatsword rested in Ritter's grip. Eight tons of weight felt as natural as breathing to him. He caressed its hilt again and again, unable to resist.
"Heh heh heh… mine, mine, all mine. The heft, the bite, the aura…"
"Captain," Tesoro muttered, exasperated, "you've been grinning at that sword for half an hour."
"You don't get it!" Ritter spun on him, eyes blazing. "This feel, this weight, this killing intent what a waste to keep it sheathed! I'm suffocating here."
It was like shattering a basketball hoop with a dunk, only for no one to be watching and worse, the school doesn't even punish you for it. The energy built with nowhere to go.
Enel drifted closer with a smug look. "This god could spar with you."
"You?" Ritter snorted. "You'd fold after two swings. Not satisfying at all."
Lina whispered, "What about Kaido?"
"Captain won't be satisfied," Tesoro shot back instantly. "Even Kaido, strong as he is, still falls short of you."
Ritter paced furiously. He needed a worthy opponent, someone who could push him to unleash everything. Whitebeard was always nowhere to be found, Sengoku the strategist would never indulge him, and Garp… well, Garp was practically cheating, a monster that broke the rules of the world.
Suddenly, Ritter froze. His eyes gleamed. "Wait. Of course!"
The crew leaned in. "Who?"
"Rayleigh!" Ritter shouted, slamming his palm against the railing. "That old bastard's probably lounging around the Sabaody Archipelago right now!"
Tesoro buried his face in his hands. "You can't be serious…"
"Crew!" Ritter bellowed, raising the Blood Dragon Calamity high as blood-mist swirled around him. "Change course! We're heading to Sabaody to pay a visit to our dear vice-captain!"
Because honestly who told Rayleigh to always be hanging around like an NPC, waiting to get challenged?
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