“Swordsman?”
Dracule Mihawk picked up a bottle of iced black tea from the ice bucket and spoke in a measured tone.
“Come back to me when you can perform a Flying Slash.”
A Flying Slash was the mark of a true swordsman, a technique where a blade released compressed slashing energy, allowing attacks to strike from a distance.
“Stop underestimating me.”
Sven clenched his teeth and immediately purchased the Swordsman Training Experience.
“Give me one month.
I will become a swordsman.”
Mihawk glanced at him from the corner of his eye.
“If you can achieve a Flying Slash within a month, I will grant you one condition.”
Training a potential rival did not sound like a bad idea, but only if Sven could surpass the stage of cutting steel and reach that level within such a short time.
In Mihawk’s view, that was impossible.
He suspected Sven had spent most of his time aboard Oro Jackson studying cooking rather than combat.
Otherwise, there was no way he could produce such refined dishes and that addictive iced black tea.
“Mihawk, you are definitely going to be my vice captain.”
Sven’s voice rose with excitement as he drew his Plasma Sword and began practicing.
In his mind, the outcome was already decided.
This time, he had an advantage Mihawk could never anticipate.
Use Swordsman Training Experience.
A flood of knowledge poured into his mind.
It felt like memories that had always been there suddenly awakened.
Sven pressed his forehead, his expression turning awkward.
His mind understood everything.
His body did not.
He swung his sword again and again.
At the beginning, his movements were stiff and unrefined.
However, after more than a thousand swings, Mihawk’s expression shifted slightly.
The rhythm was changing.
There was structure in Sven’s movements now, a faint but undeniable sense of technique forming.
Mihawk narrowed his eyes, then turned away.
“Take the helm.
I will rest.”
“Alright.”
Sven accepted without hesitation, though a faint smirk appeared on his face.
Even Mihawk could feel pressure.
Mihawk returned to the cabin with his iced black tea.
Since Sven introduced the sweet version, Mihawk had rarely brewed his own.
Over the past month, Sven had gradually revealed several advantages.
The existence of the great treasure, his exceptional cooking, the iced black tea, and the legend of the Gold Country.
Each one subtly influenced Mihawk.
Step by step, the foundation was being laid.
The Grand Line’s weather shifted unpredictably.
One moment clear skies, the next a raging storm. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Violent winds churned the sea, waves crashing against the ship.
Sven released lightning to form a barrier, instantly evaporating the seawater that splashed onto the deck.
Ever since obtaining the Goro Goro no Mi, his dislike for seawater had grown to an extreme level.
Dark clouds swallowed the sky, and the ocean turned as black as ink.
The ship rocked violently, yet Sven maintained control with one hand on the helm while browsing the Trading Platform.
Sailing was second nature to him.
Back in the Roger Pirates, even a cook had to master navigation.
A listing caught his attention.
A flying bamboo dragonfly, priced at 500 points.
A conceptual anti gravity device that required no energy and never broke.
Sven inhaled sharply.
An item like that was invaluable.
Although the Goro Goro no Mi allowed him to move through lightning, it was not true flight.
It relied on stamina, and once exhausted, he would lose that advantage.
This item solved that weakness.
Unfortunately, he only had 266 points.
Sven stared at the stormy sea, determination rising in his chest.
“I need to secure Sky Island as soon as possible.”
At present, his fastest methods of earning points were Devil Fruits and Sky Island shells.
Devil Fruits could sell for over a thousand points, though rare ones like the Ope Ope no Mi were too valuable to part with.
Eternal life was not something anyone would casually give away.
Three days later, land appeared on the horizon.
A vast desert island.
Alabasta.
Sven had no intention of staying.
His objective was clear.
Reach the waters near Jaya, locate the Knock Up Stream, and ascend to the Sky Island.
Back when he sailed with the Roger Pirates, he recorded every island using a Log Pose, intending to retrace the journey one day.
Now, that decision proved invaluable.
Beside him, Mihawk suddenly spoke.
“Gol D.
Roger, what kind of man was he?”
Sven paused briefly.
“The captain was an excellent pirate.”
Nothing more needed to be said.
Mihawk took a sip of iced black tea.
“Only excellent?
I expected you to call him the strongest.
Then tell me, who do you consider the strongest pirate?”
“Rocks D.
Xebec, and Scopper Gaban.”
Before Mihawk could question him, Sven continued.
That alone makes him worthy of respect.”
“However, I admire Scopper Gaban more.”
“In front of him, even figures like Shiki or Kaido seem lacking.”
Mihawk’s gaze sharpened, though he did not press further.
“Then he must be very strong.”
Sven smiled slightly.
“You will understand when we meet him.”
“Our current goal remains the same.
The Gold Country.”
After docking, the two split their tasks.
Mihawk purchased supplies, while Sven handled repairs to the ship.
This was another skill he had learned aboard the Oro Jackson.
As the only non combatant among the Roger Pirates, Sven had developed an unusual skill set.
His combat ability had once been lacking, but his practical skills were exceptional.
Cooking, navigation, ship repair, cartography, even crafting an Eternal Pose.
Outside of battle, he was capable in nearly every field.
Meanwhile, far away in East Blue, on the Conomi Islands, a woman had returned.
A member of CP9.
Rukia Ichijou approached a muscular man and asked coldly, “Has Beelzebub Sven returned recently?”
“No, ma.
Not at all.
But I remembered something strange.”
“Speak.”
She casually produced 10,000 Berries.
The man accepted quickly.
“A few years ago, we used to bully him.
But one time, his body suddenly glowed red… and we all lost consciousness.”
Rukia Ichijou waved her hand dismissively.
“I understand.”
A villager who did not even know who Roger was had no credibility.
Red light?
Ridiculous.
It could not possibly be Conqueror’s Haki.
Sven had joined the Roger Pirates at nine years old.
A child that young possessing Conqueror’s Haki was beyond belief.
The memory of Sven escaping in Loguetown resurfaced, and irritation surged within her.
“Beelzebub Sven, you will not escape forever.”
Her promotion had slipped away because of that single failure.
“And next time, I will personally bring you down.”
Her expression darkened.
“How did that brat even manage to disappear?”