Above Punk Hazard.
Kane dispersed the airflow gathered beneath his feet, hovering above the clouds as he looked down upon his territory.
Then, he paused slightly.
Was this still the same Punk Hazard he had left behind?
The stern, rigid military fortress from his memory now displayed a... peculiar prosperity.
Within the hundred-meter-high Sea-Prism Stone Alloy Walls, crowds of people moved about like swarms of ants.
At the docks, over fifty warships of various types occupied every berth, their waterlines pressed extremely low, their decks piled high with mountains of supply crates.
Giant cranes operated tirelessly, the shouts of dockworkers and Navy soldiers mingling together, still clearly audible even from a thousand meters above.
On the main roads inside the walls, Navy personnel in white uniforms flowed in an endless stream.
Along both sides of the roads, several rows of densely packed temporary prefabricated houses had even sprung up out of nowhere—these were newly established residential areas for military families.
Children chased and played in the shadows of the prefab houses.
A few officers' family members gathered around clotheslines, loudly chatting about daily life and gossip.
Kane fell silent.
How long had he been gone?
How had this place transformed from a War Fortress into a burgeoning town?
As the storm dissipated, Kane landed on the stone slabs of the central square in the fortress.
The moment he landed, the first to notice him were two sentries standing guard at the edge of the square.
"The... the Calamity Admiral has returned!!!"
With that shout, the entire square erupted into chaos.
First, dozens of people nearby stopped what they were doing and turned their heads in unison. Then the news spread in all directions—within less than three minutes, a dense crowd surged out from the main roads, all heading toward the square.
"The Admiral is back!"
"Long live Lord Kane!"
"G-5 is number one!"
Cheers rose wave after wave.
Kane's gaze swept over the crowd, and he mentally calculated: the number of military personnel in this area alone had already exceeded ten thousand.
And that didn't include those who couldn't leave their posts, those in underground research facilities, or those on patrol missions out at sea.
Fifty thousand?
More than that!
If family members were included, the total population of this island likely approached seventy thousand.
"Admiral Kane!"
A middle-aged officer squeezed through the crowd, jogged up to him, and saluted crisply.
Two stars on his epaulettes—a Rear Admiral.
Kane recognized this face.
"...Aren't you Komil from Headquarters Operations Staff? What are you doing here?"
Komil wore an expression of honor. "Reporting, Admiral! I officially applied for a transfer to G-5 two months ago! Fleet Admiral Kong approved it!"
Kane raised an eyebrow.
Komil was a capable staff officer who had been doing well at Headquarters. Why would he come to this godforsaken frontline in the New World?
"I submitted the transfer request the day you were promoted to Admiral," Komil said, scratching the back of his head with an embarrassed chuckle. "And it's not just me. Over the past period, more than three hundred officers have applied to transfer to G-5 from Headquarters and the four major sea branches! The number of enlisted soldiers is countless!"
"Fleet Admiral Kong initially refused to approve it, but eventually couldn't hold out any longer."
Kane quickly calculated in his mind.
Fifty thousand Navy personnel—that was no small number.
At Marine Headquarters, just sustaining this force would burn through billions of Berry annually in military expenses, equipment, and supplies.
But G-5 didn't rely on Headquarters' budget.
The Pleasure Quarter industries he controlled and the Wano Country arms smuggling lines could still cover the costs for now. However, population growth was exponential, and expenses would only become increasingly staggering.
He needed to find a few more scapegoats.
"Komil, compile a detailed financial report for the base over this period and place it on my desk tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir!"
Just as Kane was about to head to the command center, a white figure tore through the crowd, charging toward his chest with a fierce, unyielding speed.
Shave.
And a remarkably skilled Shave at that.
Kane halted his half-completed sidestep, recognizing a familiar scent.
"Big Brother Kane!!!"
Gion latched onto him.
Her arms tightly wrapped around his neck, her astonishingly long legs firmly entwined around his waist, and her face buried deep in his solid chest, greedily inhaling his scent.
Thousands of eyes in the square focused on them.
Someone whistled loudly.
Others shamelessly egged them on.
Most erupted into good-natured laughter—G-5's style had never been one for rigid military discipline, and the relationship between the base commander and Rear Admiral Gion was an open secret across the entire island.
"You've lost weight," Gion said, lifting her head, her eyes rimmed red but stubbornly holding back tears.
She wore the Navy's white short-sleeved shirt, the Great Grade Blade Twenty-One Works, Kumbhira, sheathed at her waist, her hair tied high in a ponytail, radiating a heroic aura.
But at this moment, her boneless, clinging posture against Kane had nothing to do with "heroism"—it was pure dependence and obsession.
"I haven't lost weight; I'm actually three pounds heavier than before I left," Kane said, one hand supporting her waist, the other ruffling her hair. "Alright, get down. Everyone's watching."
"No."
Gion buried her face back into his chest, her voice muffled. "You didn't even call once on the Den Den Mushi all this time."
Kane sighed.
He hadn't called because he couldn't.
Which of the sordid events in Wano Country could he possibly tell her?
Whether it was using Kotoamatsukami to turn Kozuki Oden into a naked, dancing fool, terrifying Kaido into mining in Udon, or the "profound salvation" of the married woman Tianyue Shi...
"I was busy with official duties. Didn't I bring you a gift when I returned?"
Kane pulled a small box from his chest.
A jade hairpin crafted by a master artisan of Wano Country, its tip carved into an exquisite cherry blossom from the finest jade.
Gion's eyes lit up. She took the box, jumped down, and examined it from every angle.
Just as the atmosphere was warm and cheerful, an incredibly sharp aura swept in from the right.
Clang—!
A black blade sliced through the air, whistling as it aimed straight for Kane.
"Mihawk."
Kane didn't even bother to turn around.
The young Hawk-Eye stood three steps away, gripping his sword with both hands, his golden pupils burning with intense fighting spirit.
Compared to their encounter in Loguetown, the changes in this guy were visible to the naked eye—the scar running from his left shoulder to his right abdomen had completely healed, leaving behind a fierce, jagged mark.
His physique had grown more robust than before, the muscle lines on his arms extremely defined.
Most importantly, his aura.
The young swordsman who had been defeated in a single move two months ago was now beginning to show the makings of a "true powerhouse."
"Admiral." Mihawk's voice was flat, but his fingers gripping the sword were bloodless, "Please grant me another lesson."
During his time at G-5, Mihawk had endured hellish days.
In name, he was a specially recruited new soldier with Five Insurances and One Fund, food, and lodging provided.
In reality, he was the round-the-clock personal punching bag for the three monsters—Kuzan, Sakazuki, and Borsalino.
One day, his eyebrows would be scorched off by magma; the next, he'd be frozen into an ice sculpture by frigid air; and the day after, he'd question his very existence under the baptism of a Lightspeed Kick.
Yet it was precisely this high-pressure environment, pushing him to the brink of death, that triggered an explosive surge in Mihawk's swordsmanship.
He felt ready again.
At the very least, he could force the man before him to draw that blade.
Kane glanced at Mihawk with the look one might give a seriously ill patient.
"You've improved greatly."
"But it's still not enough."
Kane extended his index finger and lightly flicked the broad back of the Black Blade: Yoru.
Ding!
A crisp metallic clang rang out.
"Challenging me at your current level will make no fundamental difference from the last time."
Mihawk's brow twitched almost imperceptibly.
He knew Kane spoke the truth.
His swordsmanship was indeed growing rapidly, but the gap between him and the man before him hadn't narrowed by even a millimeter.
Logically, he knew he couldn't win, but the instinct of a swordsman forbade him from backing down in front of an opponent.
Mihawk raised his blade.
"Even if the gap hasn't narrowed, I—"
Before he could finish his sentence, a white figure interposed itself between the two.
Clang!!!
The Great Grade Blade Twenty-One Works—Kumbhira—clashed head-on with the Black Blade: Yoru.
Sparks flew.
Gion, using only one hand, firmly blocked Mihawk's full-force downward strike.
The plaza fell silent.
Mihawk frowned. "Step aside."
"Brother Kane just returned and needs rest." Gion carefully tucked the jade hairpin box into her bosom, then gripped the hilt with both hands, sinking slightly and lowering her center of gravity. "If you want to fight, I'll keep you company."
In that instant, all traces of coyness and fragility vanished from her face.
Replacing them was a chilling, bone-piercing killing intent.
This clueless fool dared to spoil the mood right after Brother Kane returned to the base.
Unforgivable.
"You're no match for me." Mihawk stated what he believed to be a fact.
In his eyes, Gion was merely the woman by Kane's side, her swordsmanship at best that of a mid-to-high-ranking officer.
"We'll see after trying."
Before her words fully faded, Kumbhira transformed into a streak of light, sweeping horizontally.
The blade was coated in a thin but exceptionally refined layer of Armament Haki.
Mihawk instinctively raised his sword to block.
—So heavy!
The Black Blade was knocked half an inch off course.
Mihawk's pupils contracted as he retreated half a step to steady his stance. The force and quality of Haki in this strike far exceeded his expectations.
Gion gave him no time to react. Her figure surged forward as Kumbhira unleashed three consecutive strikes.
The first slash swept horizontally, forcing Mihawk back.
The second lifted upward, knocking the Black Blade aside.
The third transformed from a chop into a thrust, the tip of the blade aimed straight for his throat!
At the moment the blade tip shot forward, the Armament Haki covering the sword suddenly surged, more than doubling in intensity!
This wasn't mere brute force stacking.
This is the most precise compression and release of Haki energy—maintaining coverage with minimal consumption normally, then instantly unleashing all power in a decisive strike.
It was a technique Kane personally taught her.
Mihawk had no choice but to get serious.
The Black Blade arced in a defensive circle, then reversed into a diagonal slash.
The duel between swordsmen entered a phase of rapid exchanges, the clashing of metal ringing out continuously.
The watching Navy soldiers were so excited they slapped their thighs.
The plaza had become an impromptu arena.
Mihawk's swordsmanship was indeed evolving rapidly.
The trajectories of the Black Blade grew faster and more unpredictable, each slash carrying the sharpness unique to Hawkeye.
But Gion was faster than him.
Not in the speed of her techniques, but in her judgment.
What Kane had imparted to her was never just sword techniques, but the essence of combat—prediction.
Her application of Observation Haki gave Gion near-overwhelming insight when facing a swordsman opponent of similar skill.
On the tenth exchange, a fierce slash from Mihawk was deflected as Kumbhira slid along the blade's surface, allowing Gion to circle to his side.
On the twelfth exchange, Gion seized an opening, striking the back of his wrist with the flat of her blade, numbing his hand.
On the fifteenth exchange.
Gion stepped forward, sweeping the flat of Kumbhira sideways to strike Mihawk's elbow joint with precision.
Mihawk's right arm went numb, and Black Blade: Yoru flew from his grasp.
The tip of Kumbhira came to a steady halt half an inch from his throat.
The match was decided.
Deafening cheers erupted across the plaza.
Mihawk stared at the blade poised before his throat, his eyes showing neither anger nor resentment.
Only pure... contemplation.
He was replaying every move from the fight in his mind.
"Your sword..." Mihawk looked up, fixing his gaze on Gion, and asked a question entirely unrelated to the outcome. "Who taught you?"
Gion sheathed her sword, a proud curve lifting the corner of her mouth.
"My man."
Those three words landed with weight in the plaza, and the surrounding cheers nearly shook the heavens.
Mihawk remained silent for a full two seconds before bending to pick up the Black Blade from the ground.
He glanced at Kane, who was leaning against a wall in the distance, smoking a cigar and watching the show, then looked back at the woman who had just defeated him in fifteen exchanges.
"...I'll be back."
With that, he turned and left, his back straight, without a trace of dejection.
Kane blew a smoke ring toward his retreating figure.
After some time apart, this brash youth's resolve had been tempered into something increasingly resilient. He was starting to resemble the future Hawkeye.
Gion jogged back, clinging to Kane's arm once more.
"So? Have I gotten stronger?"
"Mhm, not bad." Kane patted her head.
"Where are Sakazuki and the others?"
"Sakazuki is in the underground training grounds. Kuzan is probably fishing on the roof of the dock warehouse. As for Borsalino..."
Gion tilted her head, thinking.
"At this time, he's most likely sunbathing on a lounge chair on the dormitory rooftop."
The corner of Kane's mouth twitched slightly.
Of course.
That guy Borsalino had truly mastered the "art of slacking" that Kane himself had instilled in him, reaching a state of effortless perfection.
I Am the Crown Prince in France
I Have an Omniscient Mirror
Pirate: No One Understands Devil Fruit Better Than Me
Array Inquiry of Immortality
If I Can't Pilot a Gundam, Why Should I Join the Military?
The Frail Scholar of the Ancient Apocalypse
Cornflower Witch