On the splintered deck of what remained of Don Krieg's galleon, Zoro slowly, deliberately, sheathed Wado Ichimonji.
The pure white scabbard felt heavy in his hands, a stark contrast to the shattered hilts of the two swords he had lost, their blades now resting at the bottom of the sea.
The act was one of finality, a ritual of acceptance. His dream, for now, was as broken as his steel.
With his weapons secured, he turned, not in retreat, but in defiance.
He spread his arms wide, his chest bared and vulnerable, presenting an open target to the man who had so effortlessly dismantled him.
His voice, though strained, rang with unwavering conviction.
"Come at me!"
Dracule Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman, stood impassively, his golden, predatory eyes narrowing slightly.
"What is the meaning of this?" he inquired, his tone a flat, curious monotone.
A faint, almost serene smile touched Zoro's lips, an expression of profound and painful acceptance.
"A swordsman," he declared, each word a testament to his creed, "should never bear scars on his back! It is a swordsman's greatest shame."
To turn and flee, to allow a blade to strike him from behind, would be a betrayal of his path, his promise to a childhood friend, and the very dream that had driven him across the sea.
To die facing his conqueror was the only honorable end.
For a long moment, the only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull.
Hawkeye remained silent, his gaze fixed on the young, green-haired man.
Then, a faint, almost imperceptible glint of admiration sparked in his piercing eyes.
This was not the arrogance of a fool, but the unyielding spirit of a true warrior.
"Magnificent," Hawkeye breathed, the word carrying a weight of genuine respect.
"A noble resolution. Very well. I shall grant you the dignity you seek."
He took a single, measured step forward, closing the distance to a mere three meters.
He raised his colossal black blade, Yoru, its polished surface reflecting the terrified faces of the onlookers.
The crucifix-shaped hilt glinted in the sunlight as he positioned the sword for a final, decisive strike.
The hearts of everyone watching seized in their chests.
On the deck of the floating restaurant Baratie, Luffy's entire body tensed, his muscles coiling like compressed springs, ready to launch himself into the fray to save his crewmate.
The air grew thick with dread.
In the next moment, Hawkeye's slash descended like a silent, deadly arc of black energy that promised to cleave Zoro in two.
Just as Luffy propelled himself forward, a second sound sliced through the air—a whisper-thin hiss, faster and sharper than Hawkeye's own attack.
A silver streak of light shot past Luffy's side, so swift it seemed to bend the very air around it.
Luffy jolted in mid-motion, his eyes wide with disbelief as he recognized the source.
"Ray? You—"
The two slashes—one a torrent of obsidian power, the other a flash of silver precision—collided directly in front of Zoro's chest.
The resulting impact was not a clang of steel, but a deafening detonation of pure energy.
A violent shockwave erupted from the point of impact, blasting Zoro backward, tumbling him across the deck like a ragdoll, saving him from certain death but leaving him battered and bruised.
Before he could even process what had happened, a figure materialized beside him in a blur of motion. It was Ray.
Seeing Zoro out of immediate danger, Luffy's coiled tension finally released.
He stumbled back a step, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
"Good thing Ray was here," he muttered, a bead of sweat tracing a path down his temple.
"Or else Zoro would've been done for."
Nearby, Johnny and Yosaku, Zoro's loyal companions, collapsed to their knees, tears of relief streaming down their faces as they thanked the heavens that their "big brother" had been spared.
The suffocating atmosphere that had gripped the onlookers finally began to dissipate.
Only Sanji wore a deeply troubled expression.
He calmly lit a cigarette, the flare of the match illuminating his furrowed brow.
Taking a long drag, he addressed the group.
"Hey, are swordsmen's duels allowed to be interrupted by outsiders?" His personal code, deeply ingrained from his time with Zeff, screamed that this was a violation.
A duel, especially one of honor, was a sacred pact between two combatants.
Usopp clutched his forehead in concentration.
"From what I've read in books… no, you definitely can't interrupt," he confirmed, his voice laced with newfound anxiety.
Nami, standing beside them, wrung her hands.
"What happens if someone does interrupt?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
Usopp could only shrug helplessly.
"Who knows? The epic tales and fairy stories never cover that part."
His nonsense-answer earned him a gentle but firm smack on the arm from Nami.
Sanji frowned, clicking his tongue in annoyance before exhaling a perfect ring of smoke.
"If I had to guess," he mused, "an interruption of that magnitude might cause both duelists to turn their anger on the intruder."
The implication of his words hung heavy in the air.
Nami's panicked breathing gradually calmed as she considered it.
"Then it should be fine," she reasoned with a sigh of relief.
"Zoro would never turn on Ray."
But Usopp's face remained a mask of worry. "Yeah, but what about Hawkeye?"
A collective gasp swept through the group.
The relief they had felt just moments before evaporated, replaced by a fresh wave of terror.
"Oh no," Usopp whispered. "If Hawkeye gets angry, will Ray be able to handle him?"
Even the normally carefree Luffy found his brow creased with deep concern.
The power they had just witnessed was on a scale he had never imagined.
…
Back on the ravaged deck, Zoro painfully pushed himself to a sitting position.
He glared at his savior, his eyes blazing not with gratitude, but with a profound sense of resentment.
"Ray," he growled, his voice raw with emotion, "what you just did… you trample on my dignity as a swordsman!"
Ray let out a weary sigh.
In a flicker, he was beside Zoro again.
Before Zoro could utter another word of protest, he felt a slender, pale hand reach out behind him.
He didn't have time to react.
A sharp, stinging pain exploded at the back of his head, as if he'd been struck by a cannonball.
"I—"
His protest was cut short as his vision swam and the world dissolved into blackness.
Zoro slumped forward, unconscious.
A flicker of genuine anger crossed Ray's usually placid features.
He grabbed the back of Zoro's belt and unceremoniously hurled his limp body toward Luffy and the others.
"Someone who so carelessly throws their life away doesn't deserve to talk about dignity—at least not with that kind of foolish behavior!" he called out, his voice sharp and cold.
In Ray's eyes, Zoro's decision to challenge Hawkeye, despite the chasm in their strength, was a testament to his unbreakable conviction.
It was a quality Ray deeply admired.
But what followed—the act of spreading his arms and welcoming death—was not a display of dignity.
It was a flight from a shattered belief, an act of surrender that was utterly worthless and meaningless.
True dignity, Ray believed, belonged to those who clawed and fought to live another day, to carry their ambitions forward no matter the humiliation.
Throwing your life away at the first sign of absolute defeat?
What kind of swordsman's dignity was that?
If Ray had been in that situation, he would have resisted with every fiber of his being, even if it meant groveling in the dirt, just to survive and grasp a future where he could grow stronger.
How could a dead man fulfill his promise to a fallen friend?
How could a corpse achieve his ambition to stand at the pinnacle of the world?
Ray had knocked Zoro out to force him to cool his head and confront this harsh reality.
…
"Zeff, take the ship farther away!" Ray's voice carried clearly across the water to the Baratie.
The old chef didn't hesitate. "Patty! Carne! Get this restaurant moving! Full steam away!"
It was only then that Luffy and the others understood the true meaning behind Ray's earlier, seemingly casual warning.
"If you don't move the ship away, you'll get caught in the crossfire."
From the very beginning, Ray had anticipated this outcome.
He had known Zoro would lose, and he had planned to step in and face the world's strongest swordsman himself.
Even as the Baratie churned through the water, putting distance between them and the confrontation, not a single person took their eyes off the two figures standing on the wreck.
…
On the deck, Ray's demeanor shifted.
His gaze, once calm, suddenly sharpened into a pair of lethal blades, locking onto Hawkeye.
The casual air vanished, replaced by an aura of immense power.
Hawkeye, in turn, felt a thrill of excitement course through him.
His lips curved into a predatory smile.
"You interrupt a duel without permission," he noted, his voice laced with dangerous amusement, "and now, instead of waiting for me to come after you, you are challenging me?"
Ray scoffed, a cold, dismissive sound. "No one is worth me taking the initiative to challenge. Consider this… me simply venting my anger."
With that declaration, the battle intent Ray had kept coiled within him erupted skyward like a geyser.
The sheer force of his will was so potent that his waist-length, silver-white hair began to flutter and writhe as if caught in a gale, despite the stillness of the air.
Hawkeye felt the crushing pressure of this aura and his excitement bloomed into full-blown battle lust.
"So, it seems you are the boy's teacher," he mused, his hawk-like eyes gleaming.
"The East Blue truly never ceases to yield unexpected surprises."
Ray shook his head. "I merely provided some temporary guidance."
"Whether you did or not is irrelevant now," Hawkeye said, his smile widening. "Allow me to confirm one last time—do you truly intend to fight me? Given the power you've just displayed, I will not hold back. Nor, I suspect, can I afford to."
It was a clear and final warning.
"No matter," Ray replied, his voice flat. "Let us begin."
In one fluid, seamless motion, he lifted his blade, Tōkijin, its ethereal blade pointing directly at Hawkeye.
"Good! Come at me, young warrior," Hawkeye boomed, all pretense of boredom gone.
He gripped the hilt of his black blade, Yoru, with both hands, his entire being focused on the man before him.
Before a single physical blow was struck, the sword intent radiating from the two masters clashed in the space between them.
The air itself seemed to crackle and groan under the immense spiritual pressure.
Without any physical contact, deep fissures began to snake across the deck of the ship.
Some of Krieg's surviving pirates, too slow to escape, were caught in the invisible crossfire.
They collapsed, unconscious, unintended casualties of a battle that had not yet truly begun.
…
Five minutes later, the Baratie had sailed to what seemed like a safe distance.
They were now a full kilometer away, a small speck on the horizon from where Ray and Hawkeye stood.
"Old man, stop the ship," Sanji said, his voice quiet but firm.
The silence was broken.
Having witnessed these titanic displays of will and power, his mind was in turmoil.
He couldn't comprehend why these Straw Hat pirates would go to such lengths, risking life and limb for abstract concepts like dreams and camaraderie.
His own heart was a battlefield of conflicting emotions.
He simply had to see—he had to witness the conclusion of this impossible fight.
Luffy, his face grim and his brows knitted together, echoed the request.
"Stop the ship old man."
"Very well," Zeff conceded, his own curiosity and awe overriding his caution.
And so, aboard the Baratie, every soul—from hardened cooks to aspiring pirates—fixed their gaze across the vast expanse of the sea.
At that moment, every pair of eyes reflected the same, unbelievable scene.
Two colossal beams of energy, one of pitch black and the other of brilliant silver, erupted from the distant figures and collided with an earth-shattering force.
A silent, blinding flash of light bleached the sky white.
Seconds later, the soundwave hit them—a deafening roar that shook the Baratie to its foundations.
The resulting shockwave tore the ocean itself asunder, sending towering waves, monstrous and unnatural, rushing toward them.
Sanji's eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated shock.
The cigarette that had been dangling from his lips fell, unnoticed, to the deck.
"This… Is this something humans are even capable of?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
Even Zeff, a man who had survived a year on the treacherous Grand Line and witnessed countless powerful fighters, was visibly shaken to his core.
His one good leg trembled.
"Is this… the power of the legendary Shichibukai?"
Nami, clutching the ship's railing to stay upright, couldn't hide her astonishment.
"Ray… he seems even stronger than when he fought Buggy."
Luffy's expression remained grave, his small fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white.
His eyes were fixed on the distant cataclysm, his voice a low, intense plea.
"Ray… you better come out of this unharmed."