Konoha, Year 54
"Stop! You seriously need to stop!"
"I won’t stop... NO, I CAN’T STOP NOW!"
A breathless voice rang from behind the tightly shut doors.
"Haa... haa..."
A steady pounding echoed through the house, accompanied by the sharp creak of wood, suppressed groans, and the faint patter of sweat striking the floor.
The rhythm only grew faster.
"Ahhh!"
"Yoshi!"
"I have to surpass my limits! No matter how much it hurts, I’ll keep thrusting until the very end!"
"But it hurts so much!"
"Bear with it! Just think about that tingling sensation waiting for you—the one that’ll make your entire body tremble!"
A while later...
"Ahh... yes... kimochi ii... I’m almost there. Just a little more..."
Inside the dojo of the Nerona residence, the rhythmic whistle of a bamboo sword cutting through the air continued without pause.
"Nine hundred fifty-seven... nine hundred fifty-eight... nine hundred fifty-nine..."
The voice belonged to a boy who looked no older than six.
"Nine hundred ninety-seven... nine hundred ninety-eight... nine hundred ninety-nine..."
His slender arms trembled as he forced the shinai upward one final time.
"One thousand!"
A cold, mechanical sound immediately echoed inside his mind.
[Ding! Daily Mission completed: Perform 1,000 sword swings.]
[Reward: Template Progress increased by 0.02%.]
[Your inherited template—"Hawkeye," Dracule Mihawk—has reached an unlock rate of 0.7%.]
"Haa..."
By then, dusk had already settled over Konoha.
Nerona Mihawk lowered the shinai in his hands and exhaled heavily. After several hours of continuous training, his young arms had become so weak that he could barely keep his fingers wrapped around the handle.
"Seven-tenths of one percent," he muttered.
"Wonderful. At this rate, I’ll become the world’s strongest swordsman sometime after retirement."
He planted the bamboo sword against the floor and dropped to one knee, resting an arm across his raised leg as he caught his breath.
Sweat ran down his forehead and soaked his eyelids. As he slowly closed his eyes, the world around him began to distort.
The dojo disappeared.
In its place appeared a vast spiritual world.
There, a golden-eyed child with an exceptionally sharp gaze stood alone, repeatedly practising the foundations of swordsmanship.
Spring passed into autumn.
The summer heat gave way to the cold of winter.
Day after day, year after year, the child continued swinging his sword.
His efforts were not wasted. While he was still young, he had already defeated more than a dozen children of the same age.
And yet, everything he had witnessed was only a tiny fragment—just 0.7 percent of the journey that had forged those golden eyes into the World’s Strongest Swordsman.
After witnessing Mihawk defeat another child, Nerona nodded approvingly.
"Excellent."
Then the defeated child’s friends stepped forward.
Nerona’s smile disappeared.
"Oh, come on. Why does every childhood fight turn into a group project?"
A seemingly endless period passed inside the spiritual world, but in reality, only a brief instant went by.
The final image froze upon the golden-eyed child defeating yet another opponent his own age.
Nerona’s consciousness returned to the dojo.
The instant his eyes opened, a sharp gleam flashed through his crimson pupils.
The exhaustion clouding his mind vanished as if it had never been there, replaced by countless insights into the sword.
For a moment, Nerona could almost feel it all—the warmth of spring, the blazing heat of summer, the chill of autumn, and the merciless cold of winter.
Every season the golden-eyed child had endured now felt like a memory of his own.
"So this is the experience of the world’s greatest swordsman..."
Nerona looked down at his hands.
"Even with only 0.7 percent unlocked, the amount I’ve gained is incredible."
He suddenly rose to his feet, picked up the shinai, and began performing the basic forms once more.
His movements were light and fluid.
Every step, swing, and adjustment of his posture flowed naturally into the next. His technique was precise and orderly, resembling that of someone who had received guidance from a renowned swordsman and undergone years of disciplined training.
However, only Nerona knew the truth.
He had first touched a sword merely thirty-five days ago.
He had never received instruction from anyone.
Everything he possessed had come from the system that had awakened within him.
Nerona Mihawk was a reincarnator.
The original owner of this body had been the son of a Konoha shinobi. His father, a special jōnin, had died during the Nine-Tails’ attack on the village.
When the boy was five years old, his mother passed away as well. She had never recovered from the grief and constant anguish caused by her husband’s death.
After losing both of his parents, the once-cheerful boy shut himself away from the world. He stopped speaking to others, refused to leave the house, and slowly wasted away until there was nothing left to save.
It was then that the memories of his previous life awakened within him—the memories of a young boy from another world.
The name Nerona Mihawk had not come from anything extraordinary.
By sheer coincidence, his father’s family name was Nerona. When he was born, his parents had been struck by his unusually sharp red eyes, each marked by strange concentric rings. They reminded them of a hawk’s piercing gaze, so they named him Mihawk.
When he first learned his full name after reincarnating, Nerona had nearly lost his mind from excitement.
For one brief, glorious moment, he genuinely thought he might be that Nerona Mihawk.
Unfortunately, the truth was far less dramatic.
It was nothing more than an absurd coincidence.
Thankfully, the awakening of the Template system later proved that his expectations had not been entirely misplaced.
Before that... having the memories of another life suddenly awaken inside him was overwhelming enough.
Realizing that this world was filled with shinobi, wars, and monsters far beyond human limits left him lost for nearly an entire year.
What troubled him most was that he was the same age as the Main Character of this era.
Unfortunately, he had been born ordinary.
No mysterious kekkei genkai waiting to awaken during an emotional crisis.
His father had been talented, but not secretly descended from the Sage of Six Paths.
As far as Nerona could tell, the most impressive ability in his family tree was responsible financial planning.
That would not be especially useful against Madara.
An ordinary shinobi on the battlefield of the Fourth Shinobi World War was not an underdog waiting for his heroic moment.
He was a name no one would remember.
Assuming he received a name at all.
The realization had nearly driven him to despair.
Although the current era appeared peaceful, the Fourth Shinobi World War would begin eleven years from now. By that time, countless monsters who treated ordinary shinobi as little more than insects would emerge one after another.
In a war of that scale, what difference was there between an ordinary shinobi without a kekkei genkai and disposable cannon fodder?
There was also no guarantee that he would even survive long enough to reach the Fourth Shinobi World War.
Before then, Konoha would experience both the Konoha Crush and Pain’s assault on the village.
Afterward came Obito Uchiha, Madara Uchiha, the Ten-Tails, Kaguya Ōtsutsuki, and several days of increasingly aggressive nonsense.
The power scale of the world would go from throwing knives and breathing fire to dropping meteors and creating moons.
Mihawk had no interest in being present for that transition without adequate preparation.
He might die during one of those disasters before ever receiving the chance to become cannon fodder on the battlefield.
At first, for months, Mihawk had expected something extraordinary to happen.
After all, people who reincarnated into fictional worlds were supposed to receive special advantages.
A system.
A bloodline.
A mysterious mentor.
An overpowered eye.
At the very least, a convenient storage space.
An entire year went by without so much as a greeting from whatever force had sent him here.
Nerona gradually accepted that his reincarnation package might have been the economy version.
Only when he had fallen into complete despair did the first ray of light finally appear.
During an accidental fight with another child, Nerona had been beaten until his body was covered in bruises.
That incident awakened the system that had remained dormant inside him for an entire year.
Nerona lay sprawled across the ground, bruised and aching, when a mechanical voice suddenly echoed inside his head.
[Ding! Template System successfully activated.]
For several long seconds, he said nothing.
Then his face slowly twisted in disbelief.
"...That’s what activated you?"
The system did not respond.
Nerona’s eyebrow began to twitch.
"My parents died. I spent an entire year terrified of this world, constantly worrying about whether I’d even survive long enough to grow up—and you stayed completely silent."
He raised one trembling finger and pointed toward the child who had just punched him.
"But this little bastard hits me twice, and suddenly you decide to wake up?"
Still, there was no answer.
"I’m not complaining. Seriously, I’m grateful. I’m just trying to understand what this means."
His eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"Wait... don’t tell me you’re trying to send me down the path of revenge just because some brat punched me?"
After taking several deep breaths and accepting that his system was apparently the silent, emotionally unavailable type, Nerona finally calmed down.
He pushed himself upright and began carefully examining its functions.
The system allowed him to randomly obtain the Template of an overwhelmingly powerful individual. By gradually unlocking the template, he could eventually acquire all the strength and abilities possessed by that person.
There was only one method of increasing the unlock rate.
He had to complete the daily missions issued by the system.
Each completed mission increased the Template progress by 0.02 percent.
After more than a month of experimentation, Nerona had come to understand what the so-called Template experience truly represented.
It contained Dracule Mihawk’s experiences in practising swordsmanship, as well as the experience he had accumulated through countless battles against powerful opponents.
Hawkeye was worthy of his title as the world’s greatest swordsman.
He had begun walking the path of swordsmanship from childhood, refining his abilities step by step until reaching the summit.
Every time Nerona completed a daily mission, his consciousness entered the spiritual world.
There, he experienced Mihawk’s life as though he had personally become him.
He began as an ordinary child who had only just encountered swordsmanship. He learned the fundamentals from the beginning, repeatedly trained his body and technique, and soon became capable of defeating every child his age.
Every experience felt completely real.
After reliving those memories again and again, Nerona had gradually transformed from someone who knew nothing about swordsmanship into a genuine beginner on the path of the sword.
His flowing movements finally came to a stop.
Sweat poured from his young body, and his thin training clothes clung tightly to his skin. The heavy scent of perspiration filled the dojo.
Performing one thousand sword swings was an extremely demanding task for a boy his age.
Nerona had required several hours to finish. He had rested many times during the process, and his clothes had repeatedly become soaked, dried, and then soaked again.
It was only natural that they now carried such a strong smell.
Mihawk lifted his arm, sniffed once, and immediately regretted checking.
"Good Lord..."
"I’ve created poison gas."
He looked toward the dojo doors.
"If an enemy breaks in now, don’t fight him. Lock the door and let the smell handle it."
After absorbing and completely digesting the experience he had obtained from Mihawk, Nerona left the dojo and headed to the bathroom to wash himself.
His father had been a special jōnin.
Although he had died during the Nine-Tails’ attack, the family residence had not been damaged. The pension provided after his death, combined with the savings he had left behind, was more than enough for Nerona to live comfortably for several years.
If he managed the money carefully, it could support him for close to a decade.
Because of that, Nerona did not need to worry about food or ordinary living expenses.
He could devote nearly all of his time to completing the system’s daily missions and training.
More precisely, he also spent part of each day learning how to refine chakra.
Although he possessed no kekkei genkai, the original owner of this body had still been born into a shinobi family.
The things left by his father consisted of more than money.
There was also a chakra-refinement method, instructions for the Three Basic Techniques, and two B-rank ninjutsu.
The Shadow Clone Technique and Fire Release: Dragon Flame Bullet.
Both were extremely useful techniques.
The value of the Shadow Clone Technique required little explanation. Since the memories and experiences of a shadow clone returned to the original after it dispersed, it could almost be considered a forbidden shortcut for training.
Fire Release: Dragon Flame Bullet was also an exceptionally powerful Fire Release ninjutsu.
Unfortunately, Nerona was not yet capable of practising either of them.
He had not even mastered the Three Basic Techniques—Transformation, Clone, and Substitution. For now, the only thing he could do was continue refining his chakra.
However, Nerona had already decided to devote himself primarily to swordsmanship.
Aside from the Shadow Clone Technique, he did not care very much about learning other ninjutsu.
The conventional path of a shinobi had obvious limits.
Unless someone mastered the Flying Thunder God Technique, opened the Eight Gates, learned senjutsu, or became a jinchūriki, it was almost impossible for an ordinary shinobi to reach the absolute summit.
Even those powers were not enough to guarantee victory.
The Flying Thunder God Technique offered unparalleled mobility and the ability to escape almost any battlefield.
The Eight Gates Released Formation could grant overwhelming power for a brief period.
Yet against beings on the level of Uchiha Madara, even someone who possessed such abilities could still find themselves powerless.
Furthermore, this was an era of peace.
Where could an ordinary child like Nerona possibly obtain the resources and forbidden knowledge necessary to learn those techniques?
The Template of Dracule Mihawk, however, gave him genuine hope of surpassing the level of an ordinary Kage.
Calling Mihawk’s swordsmanship comparable to an S-rank ninjutsu would have been an insult.
The monsters of the Grand Line operated on an entirely different scale. Aokiji could freeze an enormous stretch of ocean between islands in an instant, creating a vast continent of ice without even looking tired. Don Chinjao and other fighters far beneath the true summit had been capable of splitting apart ice continents harder than ordinary earth.
And Mihawk stood above nearly every swordsman in that world.
Splitting mountains would not represent the height of his strength. Those were casual feats—little more than the result of swinging his blade without any real effort. If the World’s Strongest Swordsman ever attacked with everything he possessed, cutting through an entire country would hardly seem impossible.
His attack power, speed, Haki, instincts, and mastery of the sword were all monstrous enough to place him among the beings of the Six Paths.
Now that Nerona had been given the opportunity to obtain that kind of power, there was no reason for him to abandon it and devote himself entirely to ninjutsu instead.
Until one day, the power of the World’s Strongest Swordsman became entirely his own.
And when the Fourth Shinobi World War finally arrived...
Nerona Mihawk intended to be the reason Madara started taking swordsmen seriously.
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