Ian smiled when Koushirou accepted the challenge without hesitation.
No excuses.
No delays.
No unnecessary words.
Exactly what he expected from a true swordsman.
His gaze swept across the training yard before he nodded.
“Right here is fine.”
Morning sunlight bathed the dojo grounds in gold.
Students had already gathered along the edges of the yard, their curiosity impossible to hide.
Whispers spread through the crowd as word of the duel traveled from one corner of the dojo to the other.
Ian glanced around and shrugged.
“It’s just a spar.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“No need to make it sound like we’re deciding the fate of the world.”
Koushirou chuckled.
“Fair enough.”
His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his sword.
The gentle smile remained on his face, but something behind his glasses changed.
His gaze sharpened.
Focused.
Unwavering.
Then he paused.
“There is one problem.”
Ian blinked.
“Hm?”
“You don’t have a sword.”
For a second, Ian simply stared.
Then he laughed.
He had somehow forgotten a rather important detail.
He still didn’t own a permanent blade.
Between traveling, training, and dealing with the system, he’d never found a sword he considered worthy of carrying long-term.
His eyes wandered through the crowd.
Then stopped.
Kuina.
The young swordswoman immediately straightened.
“Kuina.”
Ian smiled.
“Would you mind lending me your sword?”
Her eyes widened slightly.
Instinctively, her hand settled on the white scabbard at her waist.
Wado Ichimonji.
Her most treasured possession.
For a moment, hesitation flickered across her face.
Then she stepped forward.
With both hands, she offered the sword to him.
“Of course.”
A faint blush colored her cheeks.
“Please take good care of it.”
Ian accepted the blade carefully.
The moment his fingers wrapped around the hilt, he felt it.
The balance.
The craftsmanship.
The history sleeping within the steel.
His eyebrows rose.
“Oh…”
Slowly, he drew the blade.
White steel emerged from the scabbard with a clear metallic whisper.
A sword both elegant and understated.
No extravagant decorations.
No flashy appearance.
Yet the moment a swordsman held it, they understood.
This blade was extraordinary.
One of the Twenty-One Great Grade Swords.
A masterpiece.
Ian examined the edge and smiled.
“Now this is a beautiful sword.”
Across from him, Koushirou watched quietly.
“Ready?”
Ian rolled his shoulders.
The sword felt almost weightless.
Natural.
Comfortable.
As if it had always belonged in his hand.
“Ready.”
Nearby, Dragon observed the exchange with growing interest.
Until now, he’d viewed Ian as an unusual traveler with mysterious origins.
Now he was beginning to see something more.
The way Ian held the sword.
The ease in his posture.
The confidence in his movements.
This was not a man who merely knew how to fight.
This was a swordsman.
A genuine one.
Still, Dragon wasn’t particularly concerned for Koushirou.
The master of Isshin Dojo was among the finest swordsmen he had ever encountered.
A faint smile appeared beneath Dragon’s rugged features.
Let’s see what you’ve been hiding, traveler.
Meanwhile, Zoro had already claimed the best seat in the training yard.
Right beside Kuina.
His eyes practically glowed with anticipation.
“Who do you think wins?”
Kuina answered without hesitation.
“My father.”
Zoro frowned.
“That’s not fair.”
“Why?”
“Because Master Ian is really strong.”
“He probably is.”
Kuina nodded.
“But Father is stronger.”
Her certainty never wavered.
For years she had watched challengers arrive full of confidence.
For years she had watched them leave defeated.
In her mind, Koushirou stood near the pinnacle of swordsmanship.
Zoro clicked his tongue.
“We’ll see.”
Around them, the dojo students whispered excitedly.
“It’s been forever since someone challenged Master.”
“That traveler is brave.”
“Or suicidal.”
A few students laughed.
“Master Koushirou’s swordsmanship is incredible.”
“He could probably be a Great Swordsman if he wanted.”
The murmurs spread through the crowd.
Neither combatant paid any attention.
The world had narrowed.
One swordsman.
One opponent.
Nothing else mattered.
Ian lowered his center of gravity.
Across from him, Koushirou stood relaxed.
Almost casual.
Yet beneath that calm exterior lurked unmistakable danger.
Like a tiger resting in tall grass.
“Whenever you’re ready.”
Ian smiled.
“Please.”
Koushirou nodded.
“Then forgive my rudeness.”
The instant the words left his mouth—
He vanished.
Gasps erupted across the yard.
One moment he stood thirty feet away.
The next he was directly in front of Ian.
Fast.
Unbelievably fast.
Every movement had been refined through decades of practice.
No wasted effort.
No unnecessary motion.
Only efficiency.
“Careful.”
His sword thrust forward.
Simple.
Direct.
Lethal.
The strike cut through the air like a streak of silver lightning.
Most of the students never even saw the blade move.
All they saw was the aftermath.
A flash of steel racing toward Ian’s chest.
Koushirou’s eyes shone with razor-sharp focus.
This wasn’t a test.
This wasn’t a greeting.
This was a real swordsman’s opening strike.
Meanwhile—
Ian remained perfectly calm.
His breathing never changed.
His expression never shifted.
The world slowed.
Swordsmanship Level 6.
Observation Haki.
Years of accumulated experience.
Together, they transformed the incoming attack.
Not faster.
Clearer.
He saw the angle.
The timing.
The intention behind the strike.
Every detail became obvious.
Then he moved.
Wado Ichimonji traced a smooth arc through the air.
CLANG!
Steel collided with steel.
The impact rang across the training yard like a bell.
Several students jumped.
Dust exploded outward from the point of contact.
For a brief moment, the two swordsmen disappeared inside a cloud of sand.
Then the dust settled.
Koushirou had already retreated.
Back to his original position.
Meanwhile, Ian hadn’t moved an inch.
The borrowed sword rested casually in his hand.
The crowd fell silent.
Then another change appeared.
A dark sheen spread across Wado Ichimonji.
Black as polished obsidian.
Smooth as lacquer.
Armament Haki.
The moment it appeared, the atmosphere shifted.
Even those who didn’t understand Haki instinctively sensed the danger.
The pressure.
The weight.
The sharpness.
Dragon’s eyes narrowed.
“Armament Haki…”
The words escaped him before he could stop them.
His interest deepened instantly.
Most swordsmen spent their entire lives chasing this level of mastery.
Yet this traveler possessed not only exceptional swordsmanship—
But Armament Haki as well.
Very interesting.
Across the yard, Koushirou’s smile faded.
For the first time, genuine seriousness entered his gaze.
“You’re strong.”
The compliment carried real weight.
Ian inclined his head.
“So are you.”
The next exchange erupted without warning.
Koushirou attacked.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Silver flashes filled the yard.
His sword flowed like water.
Elegant.
Precise.
Relentless.
Every strike connected seamlessly to the next.
Like a river searching for weakness in stone.
Yet Ian met them all.
Steel crashed against steel.
The tempo accelerated.
Faster.
Sharper.
More dangerous.
The students could no longer follow the duel.
To them, it looked like two storms colliding.
Neither yielding.
Neither retreating.
CLANG!
CLANG!
CLANG!
The training yard echoed with the song of crossing blades.
Then Ian pivoted.
A perfect turn.
A perfect angle.
His sword lashed outward.
Koushirou’s eyes flashed.
He withdrew instantly.
The counterattack missed by less than an inch.
Observation Haki.
Ian recognized it immediately.
Koushirou wasn’t relying solely on experience.
His perception had been sharpened by Haki.
Though compared to Ian’s own Observation Haki, there was still a noticeable gap.
Even so—
It was enough.
Enough to make the duel interesting.
A grin spread across Ian’s face.
“Interesting.”
Excitement surged through him.
This was what he’d wanted.
A worthy opponent.
A true swordsman.
Someone capable of testing his limits.
The exchanges grew fiercer.
Neither side gained ground.
Neither side surrendered initiative.
The spectators watched in stunned silence.
Especially Zoro.
His mouth hung open.
This was swordsmanship beyond anything he had imagined.
A world so far above him that he could barely comprehend it.
And yet—
He wanted to reach it.
Desperately.
Then Ian’s eyes narrowed slightly.
I see.
In terms of pure technique…
Swordsmanship Level 6 had already brought him to Koushirou’s level.
Perhaps even slightly beyond.
But swordsmanship wasn’t merely technique.
There was something deeper.
Something impossible to measure.
Intent.
Conviction.
The soul behind the blade.
Ian inhaled slowly.
Then exhaled.
A faint smile appeared.
“If technique isn’t enough…”
His grip tightened around Wado Ichimonji.
“…then let’s compare the swords behind the swords.”
The world suddenly felt colder.
A strange pressure spread through the dojo.
Students shivered instinctively.
The sunlight itself seemed to dim.
Dragon’s expression changed.
Koushirou’s eyes narrowed.
Because something was awakening.
A presence.
Sharp.
Cold.
Silent.
As if an invisible blade had been drawn from its sheath.
As if death itself had quietly stepped onto the training grounds.
The entire dojo felt it.
And for the first time since the duel began—
Koushirou’s calm expression vanished completely