Five minutes earlier.
The Baratie had just begun to churn the sea, its silhouette shrinking against the horizon.
On the wreckage of the galleon, the atmosphere was anything but calm.
The very air had grown thick and heavy, charged with an invisible, crackling energy.
It was the palpable clash of two master swordsmen's wills, a silent war waged before the first blow was even struck.
This immense pressure radiated outwards, pressing down on the sea itself and terrifying the scattered survivors of the Krieg Pirates.
Panicked shouts and desperate splashing filled the air as they swam for their lives.
Among them was Gin, the Man-Demon, now burdened with the dead weight of his unconscious captain, Don Krieg, slung over his back.
As Gin kicked furiously through the churning water, he cast a stunned, horrified gaze back at the battlefield.
Under the sheer force of the clashing auras, the remnants of their massive flagship were groaning and splintering further.
The colossal wreck was being torn apart not by cannonballs or blades, but by sheer spiritual pressure.
The surging sword energy even seemed to leave shimmering, temporary scars upon the surface of the ocean.
A deep, hearty laugh, utterly devoid of malice and filled with pure, unadulterated joy, boomed from Hawkeye.
"It has been too long," he declared, his golden eyes alight with a fire that had long lain dormant.
"Far, far too long since I have faced an opponent who could meet my spirit with such force."
In that invisible clash, Ray had already sensed the exhilaration building within the World's Greatest Swordsman.
A faint, knowing smile touched his own lips.
"Then let us enjoy ourselves to the fullest," he replied, his voice calm amidst the growing tempest.
"Come!" Hawkeye roared.
The word was a command that shattered the tension.
In an instant that defied perception, the two figures vanished from their positions.
A deafening shriek of tortured steel split the air as Ray's ethereal Tōkijin met Hawkeye's Yoru.
Sparks flew like a shower of dying stars.
They became blurs of silver and black, weaving a deadly dance upon the floating debris.
They dodged, parried, and struck, each collision of their blades sending violent tremors through the air and shuddering waves across the sea.
From Gin's perspective, it was impossible to follow.
He could only catch fleeting glimpses of their forms, their speed so phenomenal that they seemed to be in multiple places at once.
His mind, accustomed to the brutal but comprehensible combat of the East Blue, struggled to process what he was seeing.
"My God…" he whispered, his voice trembling with awe and terror.
"Captain Krieg… he actually dared to provoke monsters like these…"
As Gin watched the godlike battle unfold, he felt a certain shackle in his heart, his blind loyalty to a man who was nothing more than a big fish in a tiny pond, begin to crack and break apart.
…
"Sword Pressure!"
Following a particularly violent exchange that sent them both recoiling, Ray was the first to press the attack.
He leaped high into the air, his silver hair trailing behind him like a comet's tail, and swung Tōkijin downward with immense force.
This was no ordinary slash.
Unlike the controlled strikes he had used against Zoro in Shells Town, this attack was imbued with the unique, malevolent power of his demonic blade.
A visible wave of chilling, invisible force radiated from the sword, extending far beyond the physical blade.
Had he unleashed this level of power against Zoro, the aspiring swordsman would have been shredded to pieces on the spot.
Ray knew this with certainty.
The power he was channeling was a pale imitation of its true source, Sesshōmaru, who with this very technique had nearly killed the fully demonized Inuyasha—a being whose raw physical prowess far surpassed anything Zoro could currently endure.
…
The descending Tōkijin carried with it a massive wave of sword energy, supercharged by the resentful Demonic Power humming within the steel.
Facing this attack, Hawkeye's expression of joyous battle turned utterly grave.
He could clearly sense the terrifying, otherworldly power contained within the strike—it was not just a physical force, but an assault on the spirit itself.
Gripping Yoru's hilt with both hands, a brilliant, emerald-green glow surged along the length of the black blade.
He twisted his body, planting his feet firmly on the groaning deck, and unleashed a powerful sideways slash to meet Ray's assault.
Another violent collision erupted.
The impact was so powerful, so catastrophic, that it instantly obliterated the wreckage of the ship beneath their feet.
The massive section of the galleon simply ceased to exist, vaporized into a cloud of wood splinters and sea spray.
With their footing gone, the two warriors continued their relentless exchange of slashes in mid-air, defying gravity for a few heart-stopping moments before landing on separate, smaller fragments of the wreck.
As they fought, both Hawkeye and Ray grew increasingly serious.
From Ray's perspective, Hawkeye's rhythm was a portrait of perfection.
His offense and defense were seamless, a flawless cycle of attack and counter.
A single misstep, a moment's hesitation, and Ray knew he would suffer a severe, if not fatal, injury.
Were it not for his mastery of Future Sight through Observation Haki, which allowed him to perceive his opponent's moves a fraction of a second before they happened, Ray would have already been wounded multiple times over.
From Hawkeye's perspective, it had been an eternity since he'd experienced such tense, exhilarating combat.
Every one of Ray's attacks was a complex puzzle.
They carried not just the pure, cutting power of a master's slash, but also the terrifying Sword Pressure that blanketed a two-meter radius around the blade.
Each time Hawkeye blocked, he had to simultaneously deflect the physical strike and dissipate the swarm of razor-sharp energy that followed—all while contending with an unpredictable, insidious third force.
Tōkijin's innate Demonic Power, born from the fang of a demon who held a grudge against its previous master, carried an intense resentment and killing intent.
It was a psychic poison.
The slightest lapse in concentration would allow it to invade an opponent's consciousness, disrupting their focus and drastically reducing their combat ability.
Hawkeye's immense willpower was the only thing keeping the demonic influence at bay.
Likewise, Ray knew that were he not so strong-willed himself, even he could be consumed by the very weapon he wielded.
Even now, with his synchronization with Sesshōmaru at a mere 45%, he was keenly aware that he could not yet unleash Tōkijin's true, terrifying potential.
Completely immersed in the life-or-death struggle, five minutes passed in what felt like an instant.
The wreckage of the massive ship had been systematically reduced by their clashing blows to just two broken fragments of deck, floating roughly fifty meters apart.
Ray and Hawkeye now stood on these separate wooden platforms, their chests heaving slightly, their expressions growing ever more solemn.
…
The remnants of the Krieg Pirates had spent those five minutes swimming with a desperation born of pure terror.
Even so, the aftershocks of the battle had claimed many of the wounded and slower swimmers, their lives snuffed out by stray waves of energy.
Now, the survivors bobbed in the water roughly 250 meters away—a distance that offered no sense of safety whatsoever.
"The waves… they've calmed down," one pirate gasped. "Did they stop fighting?"
His words caused the others to pause their frantic escape.
"Look! The two of them are standing opposite each other! They're not fighting anymore!"
A collective, shuddering sigh of relief went through the group.
They stopped to tread water, trying to catch their breath. Even Gin, whose formidable strength was taxed from carrying the massive weight of Don Krieg, had only just managed to reach this spot.
Gazing at the two distant figures, his eyes held not just shock, but a glimmer of something new: anticipation.
A yearning.
"Are all the people on the Grand Line… monsters like this?" he wondered aloud.
At that moment, a new, terrifying image was reflected in his pupils.
From Ray, a brilliant serpentine form of pure azure energy coalesced—an Azure Dragon Strike.
From Hawkeye, an unbelievable aura of green light erupted, forming a towering sword projection that seemed to pierce the very heavens.
The two ultimate attacks were launched.
A terrifying explosion followed immediately as the dragon and the sword aura collided, forming a visible sphere of blinding light no less than fifty meters in diameter.
Simultaneously, dozens of smaller, scythe-like sword slashes, each nearly three meters long, scattered in all directions from the epicenter.
Many of them shot straight towards the exhausted Krieg Pirates.
Gin's eyes went wide with horror.
"Stop staring!" he roared at the others. "DIVE NOW!"
Gripped by a deer-in-the-headlights fear, most of the pirates only began to evade at the last second, swimming frantically on the surface.
Only a handful heeded Gin's advice and submerged deep beneath the waves.
A moment later, the sea around them was sliced to ribbons.
The number of survivors in Don Krieg's once-mighty pirate crew dwindled once more.
…
The collision between Ray's Azure Dragon Strike and Hawkeye's ultimate slash affected everything within a 300-meter radius.
The last remnants of the massive ship vanished completely.
The surface of the sea was riddled with deep, clean cuts, as if carved by a giant's razor.
But before the ocean could even begin to heal its wounds, an even more terrifying explosion erupted from the point of impact.
Enormous, world-ending waves surged outward, racing across the sea.
It was these very waves that the Baratie, now a kilometer distant, was bracing for.
…
One minute later, the sea, as it always does, returned to a state of relative calm.
To the ocean, no matter how severe the damage, time would eventually restore its placid surface.
On the deck of the Baratie, however, the storm of emotions was still raging.
Everyone was reeling from the cataclysmic battle they had just witnessed.
Sanji, his hands trembling slightly, lit another cigarette, his mind lost in thought.
'If I had power like that—power that could shake the very sea—could I find the All Blue?'
Luffy, Nami, and Usopp stared solemnly at the now-empty, placid patch of ocean where the fight had taken place.
"Where's Ray? Where's Hawkeye?" Usopp stammered. "Why have they disappeared?"
The three grew increasingly agitated, their fear for Ray's safety mounting.
Nami, in particular, was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling in a dramatic rhythm of anxiety—a sight that unintentionally drew the gaze of every male on deck.
Sanji's grave, philosophical expression instantly morphed into that of a slack-jawed lecher, and a thin trickle of red liquid dripped unconsciously from his nose.
But Nami's worry ran deeper than just concern for a friend.
Their next destination was her hometown—a tragic village crushed under the heel of the tyrannical fish-man, Arlong.
'Ray,' she thought, her heart aching, 'you promised. You promised you would help me defeat Arlong…'
…
The calm sea indeed showed no sign of anyone.
This was because Ray and Hawkeye had already relocated to a spot beneath a massive, arching rock formation, a full kilometer away from the epicenter of their final, devastating explosion.
Ray had simply flown there, while Hawkeye had propelled himself through the air by creating footholds with precise, powerful slashes of his black blade, Yoru.
Hawkeye sheathed the colossal sword on his back with a single, fluid motion.
A faint, satisfied smile curled his lips as he looked at Ray, his eyes alight with respect and anticipation.
"Here, it seems we will not be able to determine a true victor," he stated.
Ray calmly responded, "Strictly speaking, I lost."
In terms of pure swordsmanship and raw power, Hawkeye was indeed considerably stronger than Ray was at this stage.
Ray knew that throughout the entire duel, he had been fighting at his absolute limit.
Maintaining his Future Sight with Observation Haki, while simultaneously wielding Tōkijin's Demonic Power and Sword Pressure, had placed an enormous strain on his body and spirit.
A prolonged battle under such conditions was impossible.
Hawkeye, on the other hand, had been fighting with a measured pace, conserving as much energy as possible.
Had their battle taken place on solid ground, Ray's stamina would have quickly depleted, inevitably leading to his defeat.
Upon hearing Ray's candid admission, Hawkeye shook his head slightly.
"If you hadn't limited yourself to the techniques of a swordsman alone," he countered. "I would have surely died in these seas today."
Hawkeye's judgment was flawless.
Ray could have easily destroyed all potential landing points and exploited his absolute advantage of flight to slowly exhaust the swordsman to death.
After all, Hawkeye's method of aerial movement was taxing and inefficient.
In Ray's eyes, it left far too many openings.
He could think of a dozen ways to kill him that didn't involve a direct clash of blades.
But now, the mindsets of both men had shifted.
The outcome of their battle had become unimportant.
It had evolved from a confrontation into a spar, a violent method of establishing mutual respect.
In a duel between masters, one can sense the character and spirit of their opponent through their blade.
After the fight, Ray and Hawkeye had acknowledged each other.
They smiled, almost simultaneously, though Ray's was a fleeting, wry grin.
"Ray," Hawkeye declared, his voice carrying a new warmth.
"I will be waiting for you on the Grand Line!"
"I'm not Zoro," Ray replied with a shrug. "I don't have any burning desire to defeat you for a title."
"Hahaha," Hawkeye laughed. "Then let me rephrase it. In the future, I will definitely come and find you for another duel."
Ray let out a soft huff, turning his gaze towards the horizon.
"Hmph. Suit yourself."