Clang.
A sharp, metallic ring echoed through the air.
It was a faint sound, nearly lost under the heavy drumming of the rain hitting the pavement.
It was the sound of a cold blade sliding back into its scabbard.
Kane had not even fully drawn the Zangetsu. He had simply allowed that deep, bottomless blackness to catch a fleeting glimpse of the world before sealing it away again.
What exactly had he done?
No one in the square could say for sure.
Even the future powerhouses standing below the execution platform, men who relied on their incredible reflexes and dynamic vision, saw nothing but a sudden blur.
Then, it happened.
Pfft!
A line of bright red blood sprayed across Mihawk's chest without any warning.
It was a massive slash wound. The cut tore diagonally from his left shoulder down to his right hip. It was deep enough to expose the white of his bones, a strike that looked as if it would split his body in two.
"Ugh..."
Mihawk did not have the breath to scream. The force of the blow sent him flying backward like a man hit head-on by a speeding Sea Train!
Bang! Bang! Bang!
His body crashed through three separate layers of the execution platform's wooden railings. Chips of wood exploded into the air as he tumbled, finally slamming hard onto the wet stone floor in the middle of the square.
The entire area fell into a heavy silence.
The only sounds remaining were the steady rhythm of raindrops and the wet, uncontrollable hacking of Mihawk as he coughed up mouthfuls of blood.
The strange, mocking grin on Doflamingo's face died instantly. A bead of cold sweat rolled down his temple, soaking into the frame of his flashy sunglasses.
He couldn't see it.
He couldn't see the movement at all!
Facing that strike, his own innate Conqueror's Haki only felt a cold shiver rising from the deepest parts of his soul.
If that attack had been meant for him...
No, it wouldn't have mattered. He wouldn't have fared any better.
Nearby, the cigar in Crocodile's mouth snapped. It fell into a puddle, quickly turning into a soggy, brown mess in the rain.
He stared at Kane with a fixed gaze. For the first time in his life, a clear emotion called fear took root in the depths of his dark eyes.
"Is this the power that rules the seas in this chaotic age?"
...
"Tsk. Kids these days... their bodies are just too weak."
Up on the execution platform, Kane lazily picked at his ear. He shook his head, looking down at the fallen swordsman with a face full of disappointment.
"I used less than 10 percent of my strength, and he is already finished?"
The Marine officers standing nearby felt their faces twitching. They kept their heads bowed, not daring to say a single word in response.
Sir, you call a slash that can literally split the clouds "less than 10 percent strength"? Are you trying to level the entirety of Loguetown?
In the center of the square.
Mihawk lay in a growing pool of his own blood. The cold rain poured down, washing over the burning sensation of his massive wound.
Pain.
It was a heart-wrenching, physical agony.
But the pain in his body was nothing compared to the total collapse of his spirit.
He had lost.
He had been utterly defeated.
From the moment he drew his sword to the moment he fell, not even five minutes had passed.
The swordsmanship he had gambled his entire life on, the skill he took so much pride in, felt as fragile as a child's drawing compared to the power of the man above him.
The peak of the world was so much further away than he had ever imagined.
Just as the crowd thought this arrogant young man would finally pass out.
A trembling hand reached out. It was a hand covered in thick calluses, a hand that refused to let go of the sword even at the edge of death. He gripped the hilt of the Black Blade Yoru, which was stuck in the ground nearby.
Crack... crack...
The crowd gasped as Mihawk used the giant blade as a crutch. Covered in blood and shaking violently, he forced himself to stand up again.
He swayed on his feet like a candle flickering in a storm, looking as if he might collapse at any second.
But he stood.
He lifted his head. His golden eyes, usually as sharp as a hawk's, were blurry and unfocused, yet they stayed locked onto the man on the platform.
"It is not... over yet..."
His voice was a hoarse whisper, choked with the blood in his throat.
"As long as I am breathing... one day... I will surpass you!"
The crowd around the square began to murmur in shock.
"Is this kid out of his mind?"
"He's half-dead and he's still talking like that?"
"He really wants to die today!"
However, Kane looked down from the platform and felt amused.
He blew a slow ring of smoke into the air, watching the unyielding figure below. The gears in his mind began to turn quickly.
A man like this—a single-minded sword fanatic.
A monster with top-tier talent who thought of nothing but getting stronger.
He was the perfect material for a tool.
If he didn't squeeze every bit of value out of this boy, Kane felt he would be failing the Justice coat he wore on his shoulders.
"Surpass me?"
Kane shifted his weight, finding a more comfortable way to sit. He slowly lit a fresh cigar, his voice becoming smooth and persuasive.
"You felt it yourself, didn't you? That gap between us is like despair."
"Do you really think that by wandering the sea like a lost fly, fighting third-rate pirates, you will ever catch up to me?"
"Will it take 10 years? 20 years? Or maybe an entire lifetime?"
Mihawk went silent.
Even though it hurt his pride, he knew the man was right.
The difference in their power was a massive chasm. It wasn't something he could bridge just by working hard and having a strong will.
"Now, even though I am a very busy Admiral, I have always been kind to talented young people."
Kane flicked the ash from his cigar, a friendly but calculated smile appearing on his face.
"Do you want to see the highest peak of swordsmanship every single day?"
Mihawk nodded without thinking.
"Do you want the chance to challenge me whenever you want, or study my movements at any time?"
Mihawk's eyes lit up with a flicker of desire, and he nodded again.
"Then it's settled." Kane slapped his knee. "Join the Marines."
"..."
"What?"
The same word seemed to pop out of the heads of Mihawk and every single person in the square at the same time.
Become a Marine?
You just sliced the guy open and now you're offering him a job?
Isn't this a little bit too strange?
Kane completely ignored the confused looks from the crowd. He started talking nonsense with a perfectly serious face.
"Think about it. What kind of place is Marineford? It is a camp filled with the biggest monsters on the sea!"
"If you join, I am at the G-5 Branch every day. You can come find me to get be— I mean, to spar whenever you have a free moment."
"And if you get bored of fighting me, there is a man named Garp at the headquarters with fists as hard as iron. There is a teacher named Zephyr whose martial arts are legendary."
"There is also a tall, lazy man made of light. Even though his sword skills are 100,000 miles behind mine, he is still a decent sparring partner for someone like you."
At this point, Kane leaned forward. He lowered his voice, delivering the final blow to Mihawk's resolve.
"Most importantly, to defeat a monster, you have to understand the monster. You have to live among them. Only by standing right next to me can you ever hope to see the path my blade takes, right?"
"Besides, the job comes with a bed, good food, a steady salary, and full insurance. Plus, the Marines will cover for you if you end up cutting someone you shouldn't. Where else are you going to find a deal like that?"
Mihawk's mind completely stalled.
The sudden flood of information was too much for him to process.
Becoming a Marine...
Did that mean he could challenge this man every day?
And fight other powerful warriors?
Such a thing was possible?
The way a swordsman thinks is often very simple and pure.
To Mihawk, money, fame, and power meant nothing compared to a sharp blade and a strong opponent.
And now, an opportunity to reach the top at maximum speed was being handed to him on a silver platter.
As for Marine rules? Discipline? Bureaucracy?
Who cared about those? Could they help him become the strongest?
"I..." Mihawk's throat felt dry as he struggled to speak. "...Can I really?"
"Of course!" Kane snapped his fingers. "The Loguetown Marine Base is right there. Just turn right out of the square. See that building with the Seagull flag? Go in and tell them that Kane sent you. they will take care of the paperwork."
"Oh, and one more thing," Kane added. "Go to the medical room and get those wounds wrapped up. I don't want you dying before your first shift."
As soon as he finished, Kane stopped talking.
Without saying another word, Mihawk hoisted the massive Black Blade Yoru onto his back. He turned around.
Dragging his broken, bleeding body, he began to stagger toward the Marine Base, leaving a trail of red footprints behind him.
His limping silhouette actually looked full of determination, like a man who wouldn't regret his choice even if he died a dozen times.
He had been... completely tricked into joining.
The entire square of Loguetown was silent.
Everyone was stunned.
Was he really just recruited like that?
A swordsman with that much potential, a man destined for greatness, was talked into the Marine furnace with just a few clever words?
[Ding! Extremely malicious behavior detected from the Host!]
[Through physical force and psychological manipulation (PUA), you have successfully changed the fate of the key figure Dracule Mihawk, tricking him into the Marine camp!]
[This act severely disrupts the future balance of power on the sea and is a major violation of discipline!]
[Calculation of chaos: Extremely High!]
[Reward: 150,000 discipline points!]
Hearing the system notification in his mind, Kane let out a long, satisfied breath of smoke.
He watched Mihawk disappear around a corner and then looked up at the sky.
The dark clouds he had cut through earlier were starting to close back up. The sky was turning even darker than before.
"Alright. The warm-up is over."
Kane's voice suddenly turned freezing cold. All the laziness and the jokes from a moment ago vanished instantly.
In their place was the absolute, terrifying authority of a Marine Admiral.
He turned to look at the executioners who were waiting for his command.
"Time is up."
"Bring out the Pirate King, Gol D. Roger."
"This grand funeral the whole world has been waiting for..."
"It is time to start the show."
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