On the other side of the garden, not far from the stone table where Gern and Hawk-Eye were talking—
Beneath a newly erected canopy, four figures were either sitting or standing. Though their postures differed, their gazes kept drifting, almost unconsciously, toward the two men seated across from each other in the distance.
A gentle, warm green glow radiated from Lipo's hands as she pressed them against Enel's bruised, purpling chest.The power of the Heal-Heal Fruit flowed steadily, mending the internal injuries he had suffered from Hawk-Eye's slash and the violent shock of Haki.
"Damn it… that bastard really didn't hold back," Enel hissed through clenched teeth, sucking in cold air as pain flared. Even so, his mouth refused to behave. He curled his lips and muttered bitterly,"Why is it that every single time I try to look cool, I run into monsters that are just on a completely different level?"
After a pause, he clicked his tongue again.
"Still… I didn't expect that hawk-eyed freak to be that strong."
The arrogance was still there—but the earlier contempt had faded. In its place lingered a sullen frustration, the kind that came from being thoroughly beaten and having no choice but to admit it.
Hearing Enel's grumbling, Snake Princess gracefully lifted a cup of freshly brewed coffee. She blew gently across the surface, took a small sip, and looked toward the distant man dressed in a simple white shirt—yet carrying an unmistakable, cold aristocratic presence.
A trace of understanding flickered through her eyes as she smiled.
"Dracule Mihawk… he's not really a pirate," she said calmly. "He's more like a lone challenger—someone who pursues the ultimate form of swordsmanship."
She lowered the cup, her tone carrying a quiet certainty.
"His strength wasn't given to him. He carved it out for himself, step by step, blade by blade."
Setting the coffee down, she continued as though recounting treasured memories.
"His rise to fame began with a single battle. Alone, with nothing but his sword, he annihilated the entire pirate armada under 'Ganglord' Marlon—the great black-fleet syndicate that once dominated the West Blue."
"They say that battle turned the sea itself into a blood-soaked hell… and that was when the name 'Hawk-Eye' first echoed across the world."
Her voice flowed on, admiration evident but restrained.
"After that, he traveled the seas, challenging renowned great swordsmen one after another. Rumors say he crossed blades with Kozuki Oden—the samurai who once sailed with Roger and earned the title of 'peerless under heaven.'"
"And that he fought Silvers Rayleigh, the so-called 'Dark King,' on some remote island for several days straight. Some even claim…"She paused, lowering her voice slightly."…that he once challenged the mysterious and terrifying commander of the World Government's Holy Knights."
Snake Princess smiled faintly, her appreciation for the path of a true warrior shining through.
"So yes—if we're speaking purely of swordsmanship, the number of top-tier swordsmen who've fallen to him is beyond counting. Calling him the 'World's Greatest Swordsman' is no exaggeration at all."
Then, suddenly, her expression shifted.
A glimmer of curiosity—and even a hint of infatuated intrigue—surfaced on her breathtaking face as her gaze burned toward the man calmly conversing with Mihawk in the distance.
"But still… I truly didn't expect this," she murmured."That Gern would be connected to him at all. And judging by the way they're talking… it seems they've known each other for a very long time."
At that moment, Lipo—who had been focusing intently on her healing—blinked her large eyes and looked up at Snake Princess with innocent curiosity.
"Big Sister Snake Princess," she asked sweetly, "you're a great swordswoman too, right? Since Hawk-Eye is so strong… did he ever challenge you as well?"
Faced with Lipo's pure, straightforward question, Snake Princess smiled gently. She crouched down slightly, hugged Lipo from behind, and reached out to ruffle her soft hair.
"Of course he did," she admitted openly.
"That was a long time ago. He came to Kuja Island alone to challenge me."
"So we chose an island near the Calm Belt… and fought there."
She shrugged lightly, her tone relaxed, carrying not the slightest hint of bitterness.
"And I lost~ His swordsmanship really is outrageously strong."
"…A powerful swordsman," Barrett said at last. Arms crossed, he had been silently watching the distant figures the entire time."A great swordsman, at that. Not someone easy to deal with."
The assessment was brief, but it cut straight to the heart of the matter.
From his brief clash with Hawk-Eye, Barrett had felt it keenly—that ability to compress all power into a single point was merely the foundation of Mihawk's swordplay. Combined with Haki, it created a pressure that rivaled his own raw strength.
It was the kind of opponent a pure power-type fighter like him had to treat with extreme caution.
...
Meanwhile, at the stone table.
"So," Gern said, his tone unmistakably teasing as he slowly, deliberately repeated a line from the distant past,"the man who declared, 'I'll never lose again'…"
"…has finally crossed the seas to come find me."
At those words, Hawk-Eye's face—usually as cold and immovable as an iceberg—visibly stiffened.
A flash of rare embarrassment and awkwardness passed through his hawk-like eyes. His tightly pressed lips twitched almost imperceptibly.
There was no helping it.
Back then, after losing to Gern in the West Blue, he had exhausted his last ounce of strength screaming out that oath—an oath that now sounded unbearably cringeworthy and painfully juvenile.
Honestly… it was even more humiliating than being mocked by Enel for using the Black Blade as a paddle.
How could anyone ever say something that embarrassing?
Put another way—Dracule Mihawk himself could no longer empathize with the man he had been back then.
Seeing that rare expression, the smile on Gern's face deepened slightly. Still, he knew when to stop, and did not continue teasing the great swordsman who now stood at the very peak of the world.
Gern casually sat down on a stone stool and gestured toward the seat across from him.
Mihawk followed suit, sitting with his back straight and posture immaculate, exuding a natural, noble elegance.
He was nothing like the sharp-edged youth from ten years ago who had roamed the West Blue searching for challengers.
Gern studied him for a moment, then smiled.
"Time really flies."
Mihawk was silent for a beat before speaking, his voice low.
"Ten years…""…is enough to change many things."
He glanced at the admiral's epaulettes on Gern's shoulders, then at the black blade Bāhuāng that Gern still carried at his side.
"You too," he said."Marine Admiral. 'Heaven-Shaking' Gern Reginald Sigmar… your name carries even more weight than it did back then."
A brief silence settled over the garden. Only the soft sound of the breeze brushing against newly planted flowers filled the air.
Gern reached for the teapot prepared in advance on the stone table, poured two cups of clear tea, and gently slid one toward Mihawk.
Mihawk's gaze flicked to the cup, but he didn't touch it. Instead, he raised his sharp, falcon-like yellow eyes and looked straight at Gern, shattering the calm.
His voice was firm, direct, without the slightest detour.
"Gern."
"I came here this time for one simple reason."
He paused, as if reaffirming his resolve—or emphasizing the weight of what he was about to say.
"To fulfill the promise we made ten years ago in the West Blue."
"To challenge you."
As the words fell, the air in the garden seemed to tighten, turning sharp and still, as though invisible sword intent had begun to spread.
"I may not be a great swordsman by title, but that promise—"
"It's a hurdle in my heart," Mihawk cut in. His eyes burned with focus, locked onto Gern. There was no distraction left in them—only pure battle intent and a yearning for the ultimate clash.
Ten years of tempering.Ten years of waiting.
All of it seemed to exist for this very moment.
"I must honor that promise," he said quietly but resolutely,"and complete the duel that has been delayed for five long years."