The moment Rhett stepped onto the cobblestone path of the town, he hadn't even taken two steps before the scene before him left him utterly stunned—
*"BOOM!"*
The blacksmith shops lining both sides of the street suddenly flung their doors open in unison. Dozens of swordsmiths charged out like starving wolves, their eyes gleaming green, brandishing hammers, tongs, and half-forged sword blanks as they swarmed toward Rhett in a frenzy!
*"Lord Rhett of the Blood Mist! Let me forge a sword for you!"*
*"Pick me! Pick me! My forging skills rank in the top three on this island!"*
*"Bullshit! Your shoddy craftsmanship can't even make a decent firewood chopper! Lord Rhett, my ancestors once forged blades for Ryuma!"*
Rhett slowly backed away.
*"Oi oi oi, you bastards, back off! If you keep tugging at my pants, I'm gonna have to throw hands!"*
The swordsmiths' eyes sparkled with fervor.
Being surrounded by a group of sweaty, burly men, all grinning like the sun and staring at him with blazing intensity—even someone as strong as Rhett felt a chill crawl up his spine.
Tyrannosaurus's eye twitched. This... isn't quite the 'aloof swordsmiths' we were promised, huh?
Enel took a step back. What the hell are these things?
Lina hid behind Enel, whispering timidly, They're... really enthusiastic...
An elderly swordsmith with a grizzled beard—Rhett's first impression of him was dwarven craftsman—walked over with a solemn expression.
Finally, a normal one.
Then the old man *leapt at him, wrapping his arms around Rhett's leg, tears streaming down his face. "Lord Rhett! The sword intent in your 'Divine Departure' was flawless! Let me forge a blade for you! I swear on my beard, I'll craft a peerless sword worthy of you!"*
*"Old man, let go first..."*
*"No! Not unless you promise to let me forge it!"*
The scene descended into chaos as the swordsmiths jostled and argued, nearly coming to blows over who would get the honor of forging Rhett's sword.
Rhett had displayed power far surpassing that of a Great Swordsman. These men weren't recluses; they knew exactly how famous the Crimson Dawn Pirates were.
A swordsman who would never let his blade be forgotten? A sword he wielded would inevitably etch its name into history. In their eyes, Rhett was the *perfect* customer.
*"My forge burns the hottest!"*
*"My quenching technique is unmatched!"*
*"I... I'm the handsomest!"*
Rhett rubbed his temples. What the hell is this? Did something weird just slip in there...?
The one-armed old man who had been guarding the gate let out a thunderous snort. *"SHUT IT, ALL OF YOU!"*
Instantly, the swordsmiths fell silent.
The elder stepped forward. *"These fools have disturbed you. However..."*
He paused, then suddenly pulled out an exquisitely crafted forging blueprint from his robes. *"What do you think of this design? I've spent twenty years refining it, waiting for a Great Swordsman like you to bring it to life!"*
Rhett bellowed, *"ENOUGH! I'm not here for a new sword—I just want to upgrade my current one!"* With that, he drew the Black Tide Greatsword from the blood mist.
He yanked the Black Tide Greatsword from the swirling blood mist and *slammed* it into the ground—
*"BOOM!"*
The cobblestones cracked like a spiderweb as a surge of violent blood mist erupted, blasting the surrounding swordsmiths back several meters.
*"Listen up!" Rhett's face darkened. "I'm not here to commission a new sword!" He patted the flat of the Black Tide Greatsword. "This old partner's been with me for over forty years. Today, I'm here to upgrade it. If anyone dares to lunge at me again—"*
The blood mist coalesced into a ghastly, snarling demonic face. *"I'll toss every last one of you into the sea for fish food!"*
Rhett had *never considered replacing his sword. This was a promise between men.*
But reforging was necessary for an upgrade. Rhett had absolute faith in his old companion—adding new materials to the original foundation to push it to even greater heights.
The entire street fell dead silent.
Three seconds later—
*"AAAAH! Even his threats are so cool!"*
Far from being intimidated, the swordsmiths grew even *more* fanatical, their eyes glowing green as they stared at the Black Tide Greatsword like wolves eyeing a fat sheep.
Tyrannosaurus facepalmed. These people are beyond saving...
Enel had already retreated ten meters away. This god refuses to associate with these lunatics.
The one-armed elder suddenly stepped forward, scrutinizing the Black Tide Greatsword with a grave expression. *"The blood patterns in the blade are naturally formed... the Armament Haki tempering is perfectly balanced..." His head snapped up. "This is that old bastard Hammer's work? I thought he retired from forging?!"*
Rhett had always known his Black Tide Greatsword was extraordinary, and he'd suspected the old man who forged it was no ordinary smith.
But he hadn't expected him to be from *this* island.
The one-armed elder's expression turned grim, and Rhett immediately sensed something was wrong.
Did something happen to that old man?
Memories surfaced—
"Kid, a great sword needs no edge; the greatest skill appears clumsy."
Rhett locked eyes with the elder. *"Who did it?!"* His Conqueror's Haki involuntarily flared.
The one-armed elder gnashed his teeth. *"That damn geezer showed up just a few days ago, bragging about how amazing his greatsword was—"*
He turned to one side, mimicking a smug voice. *"Ohhh One-Arm, how did you know my Black Tide Greatsword is so famous? It's wielded by a Great Swordsman, you know~?"*
Then he spun to the other side, snapping back. *"Did you just come here to gloat, you old bastard?!"*
He twisted again, his tone dripping with sarcasm. *"Ooooh oooh oooh Did you come here just to FLEX? You—OLD—FART!"*
Overcome with emotion, the elder even spat twice to the side, as if disgusted by the memory.
Then, abruptly, the one-armed elder stopped his theatrics. His gaze sharpened as he ran his calloused fingers along the Black Tide Greatsword's blade, tracing the blood patterns as though reading its history.
*"The rest is still durable, but this weight... it doesn't suit you anymore, does it?" The elder grinned. "But since you're here, we can make it heavier—so heavy even you'll feel its weight."*
Rhett's eyes lit up. *"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go! Damn, this is what I call professionalism—I didn't even have to ask!"*
But the one-armed elder suddenly raised his hammer, pointing it at Rhett. *"That dead old man bragged about your monstrous stamina. If that's true, then 'Molten Core Steel' is perfect for a freak like you."*
*"Molten Core Steel?"*
*"It's a special material. It absorbs the user's stamina to increase its weight. But since it only gets heavier without gaining hardness, it needs a massive amount of seastone as reinforcement." The elder jerked his chin toward the volcanic crater at the island's center. "Normally, this stuff is useless. But that old fart claimed your physique is abnormal, so I figured it might work."*
Rhett nodded. *"Then I'll go gather seastone."*
The one-armed elder picked his nose. *"Nah, don't bother. I've got enough seastone here. You just need to prepare the cash."*
Rhett bared his shark-like teeth. *"Then why the hell did you emphasize needing 'a lot' of seastone?!"*
The elder let Rhett shake him without resistance. *"I was just proving I'm better than that old coot. He probably skipped the seastone in case the wielder was a Devil Fruit user. But I can add an outer insulating layer—that's the difference in skill!!"*
Rhett's face went completely blank. These two old men are something else.
*"Let's get started then, Master. I leave the Black Tide Greatsword in your hands."*