“Huh?!” A rare flicker of shock crossed Mihawk’s hawk-like eyes.
For three years, Kael had been relentlessly strict with his training.
And today, he had finally said those words.
You’ve passed.
Which meant— I can finally have that sword!
Mihawk’s heart began pounding.
…
Deep beneath Black Rose Castle lay the Sword Vault, a royal treasury passed down through generations of the Dracule family.
Among all the weapons stored within, one stood above the rest.
A legendary black blade originally forged by a master smith of Wano and later refined by generations of extraordinary craftsmen until it became the ultimate symbol of the royal family.
Its name was— Yoru.
Night.
A blade that embodied solitude, pride, and the lonely path of one who stood above all others.
Only a swordsman with the strength—and the resolve—to reach the very summit was worthy of wielding it.
“This blade is Yoru.” Kael stood before the enormous sword.
Its hilt formed a broad cross, decorated with ornate jewels and intricate patterns befitting a royal treasure.
The immense black blade carried a distinctive irregular hamon, its dark surface giving the weapon an unmistakably imposing presence.
“Only the strongest swordsman deserves the strongest black blade.” Mihawk had never forgotten those words.
His sharp golden eyes remained fixed on Yoru, but for once, their usual coldness was gone.
Only longing.
“Brother…” He stared at the sword in front of him.
“You’re really giving Yoru to me?” Kael nodded.
“You’ve earned it.” He folded his arms.
“Your footwork, posture, reactions, adaptability, strength—everything has reached the standard I set for you.” “Training alone won’t take you much farther.” “From here on, what you need is actual combat.” Kael paused, then asked, “Is there anyone important to you that you want to protect?” “Yes.” Mihawk looked straight at him.
“You.” For a moment, Kael said nothing.
Mihawk’s eyes were perfectly clear.
There was none of the overwhelming sharpness they would possess once he became one of the world’s greatest swordsmen.
Right now, he was simply a fourteen-year-old boy speaking from the heart.
“Oh?” Kael’s lips curled upward despite himself.
After raising the boy for more than a decade, hearing that answer struck deeper than he expected.
He smiled.
“Then climb to the very top.” “Become the strongest.” “And use that strength to protect everything you refuse to lose.” “The strongest…” Mihawk reached for Yoru.
The enormous black blade looked surprisingly natural in the young swordsman’s hands.
Even at fourteen, his bearing already hinted at the man he would one day become.
But after admiring Yoru for a moment, Mihawk suddenly looked back at Kael.
“Brother, there’s still something I don’t understand.” His expression became unusually serious.
“Why didn’t you take Yoru for yourself?” Mihawk frowned.
“Aren’t you the strongest swordsman?” He had never left Kuraigana Island since childhood.
But in Mihawk’s mind, one thing had always been unquestionable.
There couldn’t possibly be a swordsman stronger than his brother.
Kael gave a quiet laugh.
“Maybe I’m not.” “The world is much bigger than this island.
Someday, we’ll leave and see it for ourselves.” “And besides…” He glanced at Yoru.
“I don’t like it.” “It’s too heavy.” “And far too flashy.” “Flashy…?” Mihawk’s gaze shifted toward the sword at Kael’s waist.
Come to think of it, Kael hadn’t even drawn it during their match earlier.
Kael’s blade was called Requiem.
It was a weapon that suited him far better than Yoru ever could.
Long and slightly slender, the blade rested inside a sleek black scabbard traced with fine golden engravings.
There was something regal about its design without being ostentatious.
Once drawn, the sword revealed an almost silver-white edge, impossibly thin and frighteningly sharp.
Under the light, a faint gleam seemed to flow along its surface like cold moonlight.
Kael often carried it alongside a flask of wine.
At first glance, the combination seemed strange—a refined nobleman in a pale shirt, a slender killing blade at his waist, and alcohol always within reach.
Yet somehow, it suited him perfectly.
As though that was simply how Dracule Kael was meant to look.
His tolerance for alcohol was just as absurd as his swordsmanship.
Mihawk had never once seen him truly drunk.
Several times over the past few years, visiting merchants had tried to challenge Kael at the drinking table.
Every single one had ended up unconscious.
And somehow, after waking up, they would discover that they had drunkenly promised Black Rose Castle crates of expensive goods and rare treasures.
Mihawk tightened his grip around Yoru.
“Brother.” His eyes burned with determination.
“Starting today, I’ll carry Yoru with me.” “And I’ll become the strongest swordsman in the world!” The sheer conviction in the boy’s gaze left Kael unexpectedly emotional.
Just a little.
The younger brother he had raised was finally growing up.
There was only one proper response to an occasion like this.
A drink.
Preferably several.
…
That night, Black Rose Castle held a banquet.
Wine flowed freely, music filled the halls, and for once the ancient castle felt truly alive.
The Mihawk of the original timeline would have eventually become an isolated man living alone among the ruins of Kuraigana Island.
This Mihawk’s childhood was very different.
Because Kael was here.
Over the years, Kael had hired trained chefs, maids, gardeners, guards, and other servants to maintain the castle and care for Mihawk whenever Kael was occupied with his own sword training.
So when word spread that Mihawk had finally inherited Yoru, the entire household celebrated.
The servants sang.
The castle’s resident musician—a once-destitute pianist who had found a comfortable new life under Kael’s roof—filled the banquet hall with elegant music.
It was less a formal celebration than a family gathering.
And naturally, the older servants took great pleasure in embarrassing Mihawk.
The senior butler and several maids repeatedly filled his glass until the normally reserved young swordsman’s handsome face turned warm with drink.
Before long, Mihawk was sitting stiffly at the table with unfocused eyes, doing his best to pretend he was still perfectly sober.
Kael, meanwhile, sat comfortably in the lord’s seat.
One leg crossed over the other, cheek resting against one hand, he opened the achievement panel of the Swordsmanship Achievement System.
A series of notifications appeared before his eyes.
[Achievement: Raise a Great Swordsman] [Status: Complete — Perfect Evaluation] [Rewards:] [Strength +30] [Agility +30] [Swordsmanship Rating increased to S] [Skill Acquired: Sword Aura] [Passive Acquired: Swordmaster] [Supreme Swordsmanship Fragments ×50] [Current Fragments: 50/100] Kael’s gaze moved down.
[Sword Aura] [Your slashes have a chance to release massive ranged sword attacks.
Their scale increases according to the stamina invested.] [Swordmaster] [You encounter no learning bottlenecks when studying swordsmanship.] [All sword-based attack power increased by 50%.]
Add to library.
Send some Power Stones.