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Chapter 1029: Admirals Have Their Hands Full
Chapter 1029: Admirals Have Their Hands Full
That Killing Intent Blade, while Kuro eventually resorted to a clever trick in the end, relied on combat awareness that already existed. After all, no one fights like a mindless beast.
Kuro’s Killing Intent Blade was a trait of the Yokai Blade, much like how Dracule Mihawk’s Black Blade could be both rigid and flexible simultaneously. This duality of softness and hardness was an inherent characteristic of swords wielded by true swordsmen.
Under equal conditions, Kuro forced his opponent to retreat beyond the arena—that was his strength. He simply won.
He was supremely proud, but when facing someone at his level—or even stronger—Kuro treated them as equals. After all, even if both released their full combat power, the result would remain unchanged. In a match where strength was restrained, the outcome stayed the same.
Dracule Mihawk understood this perfectly, which was why he acknowledged defeat with remarkable clarity and decisiveness.
As for Kuro…
“???”
First, three question marks appeared above Kuro’s head. He stood frozen for half a moment before suddenly snapping back to reality.
Oh right!
Damn.
He’d agreed to Dracule Mihawk’s challenge, gambling the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman.
“Wait, wait.” Kuro rubbed the bridge of his nose, sounding exasperated. “Let’s just call it off. Look, you didn’t use your true strength, and neither did I. We can’t really fight like this. You keep the title. Honestly, I don’t care about it.”
Dracule Mihawk’s eyes narrowed. He suddenly swung his Black Blade, battle intent erupting. “So you’re saying you want an unbridled, all-out fight? I’d be delighted!”
Kuro nearly slapped himself, hastily denying it. “No, no, no! Forget I said anything. I’ll just take the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman right now!”
Dracule Mihawk smirked. “You keep the seat for now. I’ll come for it again.”
His long-cherished wish had been fulfilled. Dracule Mihawk was the undefeated swordsman of the world, yet he craved someone to surpass him. Only then would he have the motivation to keep advancing.
So from the start, even as World’s Greatest Swordsman, he welcomed every challenger without refusal, madly seeking those with true potential.
Until he met Kuro—the man who had come closest to his throne, finally overtaking him and taking that seat.
Which meant Dracule Mihawk now had a new goal.
“Such a rare, long-forgotten passion,” Dracule Mihawk said with a faint smile.
“Wait, wait, wait.”
Seeing Dracule Mihawk’s relentless expression, Kuro sighed. “Don’t forget—I won. You agreed to grant me a few conditions, right?”
“Only one,” Dracule Mihawk corrected.
“Fine, just one.”
Kuro agreed readily. “My condition is simple: you must announce to all swordsmen that before challenging me, they must first defeat you. Only by winning against you will they qualify to challenge me.”
Unlike Dracule Mihawk, who actively sought challengers, Kuro found such matters extremely tedious. The perfect solution was to find a shield.
Dracule Mihawk was the ideal candidate. Even though he now held the title, his strength was undeniable. At the very least, he would be the “World’s Second Greatest Swordsman.” Let him deal with the challengers, and Kuro could remain carefree, unbothered by those chasing the title of World’s Greatest Swordsman.
As for whether anyone could defeat Dracule Mihawk? Among pure swordsmen, it was practically impossible.
And if such a person ever emerged, Kuro wouldn’t mind stepping down. If they were that strong, the title was theirs to take.
Besides, while he and Dracule Mihawk fought purely through swordsmanship, that didn’t mean swordsmen with abilities weren’t true swordsmen. A pure swordsman was still a swordsman, and a swordsman with abilities was still a swordsman—take Daz·Bonney, for instance, someone Dracule Mihawk remembered.
Once abilities came into play, no one could truly rival Kuro.
Dracule Mihawk nodded thoughtfully at the demand. “Ah, I see. As expected of a proud man. You don’t want weaklings polluting your name?”
Kuro sighed. “Interpret it however you like.”
Frankly, he’d grown increasingly indifferent to such matters recently.
The more problems he faced, the less they troubled him. He had far more pressing matters—his reputation alone had already spread across the Grand Line.
In terms of authority, he held the power to oversee and select the Seven Warlords of the Sea, commanded the Navy’s intelligence spy agency “Sword,” and served as a Navy Vice Admiral and Admiral candidate—Lucius Kro’s direct subordinate.
In terms of fame, he was known as the Old Era’s Nemesis, undefeated against the Four Emperors, having defeated Blackbeard, and now added the World’s Greatest Swordsman to his list.
In the past, his moderate fame had drawn attention, but now that his reputation had grown, fewer people dared meddle with him.
Most importantly, he wasn’t even an Admiral yet. Until then, when facing dangerous threats like the Four Emperors, he wouldn’t be the first in line. Gramps could hold the line for twenty years. With the world’s chaotic surge, the global balance of power would shift in two decades.
If things continued this way, what difference would it make holding the title of Admiral?
As long as his core plans proceeded without incident, his current status was more than sufficient.
Whether he liked it or not, he’d reached this point. Obsessing over potential demotions was pointless.
With a flick of his hand, golden powder rained down from the sky, rewrapping his Yokai Blade. Another gesture summoned Autumn Water, which he sheathed at his waist. With a flicker, he soared to the port.
Spotting Shanks, Kuro called out, “Hey, what’re you still doing here? Waiting for me to invite you for dinner?”
“Oh? Are you inviting me to eat?” Shanks laughed heartily.
“I’ll serve you seared meat with my sword. Want some?” Kuro growled.
“Is it tasty?” Red-Haired Shanks grinned.
Ben Beckman cut in, “He means he wants to hit you with a sword.”
Red-Haired Shanks scratched his head, laughing. “Ha! Then I’ll pass. My men, let’s go.”
With a wave, the Red Hair Pirates’ officers followed him away.
“Hey, Dracule Mihawk, want a drink?” Red-Haired Shanks suddenly paused, turning to Dracule Mihawk still on the island.
“He doesn’t take your invitations,” Kuro said coldly. “If I didn’t see it, I wouldn’t mind, but I won’t allow the Seven Warlords of the Sea to fraternize with pirates.”
“Haha, fair enough. I won’t force him. We’ll have a drink next time, Dracule Mihawk.”
Red-Haired Shanks shrugged, waved at Dracule Mihawk, and walked off alone.
As they traveled, Ben Beckman asked, “Red-Haired Shanks, is this really okay? We’ve been used.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I already know who used us. The Navy wanted this reputation—they want Golden Lion to become an Admiral. Coincidentally, I want that too. Once he holds the title, his focus won’t be fixed on one place anymore.”
Red-Haired Shanks smiled. “Admirals… are very busy, after all.”
(End of Chapter)
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