Between heaven and earth, only two rays of light remained.
One was tragic emerald green—the "World's Strongest Slash," unleashed as Hawkeye Mihawk burned away his very life.
The other was pitch-black nothingness, devouring even light itself—the "Dimensional Slash" with which Uchiha Tobirama severed space itself.
"Ultimate Technique—Night: World's End!!"
Mihawk roared, pouring every last shred of his Haki into the black blade Yoru without restraint.
"Divine Sky Strike—Dimensional Slash."
Uchiha Tobirama's expression was utterly indifferent as he swung the Kusanagi sword in his hand, as casually as if brushing away dust.
Sizzle—!
The emerald slash, powerful enough to cleave an island in two, vanished the instant it touched the black spatial rift—like a line on paper erased without a trace.
No explosion.
No residue.
Nothing remained.
Immediately after—
The black dimensional rift, its momentum completely unabated, tore straight through Mihawk's defense, passed through his body, and continued onward to the coffin-shaped boat behind him.
Crack!
The coffin boat split cleanly in two and slowly sank into the river.
Splurt!!
A horrifying wound, deep enough to expose bone, opened across Mihawk's chest. Blood erupted like a fountain, instantly soaking his wine-red shirt.
The Supreme Grade Sword, the black blade Yoru, slipped from his grasp with a clang and embedded itself in the sand.
"Cough… cough…"
Mihawk dropped to one knee, propping himself up with the broken half of his small blade as he spat out mouthfuls of blood.
Yet he did not fall.
Though the light in his golden eyes was dim, they remained fixed on Uchiha Tobirama—utterly fearless, even in the face of death.
"A scar on the back… is the shame of a swordsman."
Mihawk struggled to lift his head, staring straight at the man who stood like a god.
"Kill me."
"To die beneath such swordsmanship… I have no regrets."
This was the dignity of the strong.
If one's skill was inferior, then one simply died.
Uchiha Tobirama sheathed his sword and looked down at the man before him—gravely wounded, on the brink of death, yet still standing proud.
The indifference in his eyes faded slightly, replaced by a trace of appreciation.
"You want to die?"
He stepped closer, looking down at Mihawk.
"That would be letting you off far too easily."
"Mihawk, in my eyes, your swordsmanship is still as crude as a child's… but your heart truly belongs to the strong."
"To kill you now would be like snapping a sapling before it grows."
"Boring."
Uchiha Tobirama reached down and grasped the black blade Yoru embedded in the sand.
The Supreme Grade Sword—symbol of the throne of the "World's Greatest Swordsman"—let out a low, submissive hum in his hand.
"I'll take this blade."
He casually spun it once, then rested the giant sword—taller than his own body—against his shoulder.
At that moment, it felt as though he was the blade's true master.
"As punishment for losing, your title of 'World's Greatest'—and this sword—now belong to me."
"You—!"
Mihawk's pupils shrank. This loss was more painful than death itself.
"Not satisfied?"
Uchiha Tobirama looked down at him, his tone arrogantly absolute.
"Then struggle. And live."
"Use the rest of your life to hone your blade. To surpass."
"When you feel you're finally qualified to make me draw my second sword…"
"Come find me again—and take it back."
With that, he turned away without another glance, walking toward the depths of the desert together with Kuina, Hancock, and the others.
"Kuina."
Uchiha Tobirama casually tossed the massive black blade backward.
"Ma—Master?!"
Kuina scrambled to catch it, nearly staggering under its weight, her face filled with shock.
This was the world's strongest black blade—and he just threw it to her?!
"Carry it for me for now," Tobirama said calmly. "When you can wield it, come find me. I'll teach you the next move."
"Yes!! Master!!"
Kuina's face flushed red with excitement as she clutched Yoru tightly, as though holding the entire world.
She glanced at Mihawk lying in a pool of blood, her admiration for her master reaching new heights.
Even Mihawk had been defeated…
Master truly was the god of swordsmanship.
On the riverbank, Mihawk watched their retreating figures, his vision slowly fading.
"Surpass… me?"
"Uchiha… Tobirama…"
A bitter yet resolute smile tugged at his lips before consciousness finally slipped away.
But deep down, he knew—
From this day forward, his only goal in life was to chase that distant back.
…
Alabasta, capital city Alubarna.
Royal Palace.
The palace was in utter chaos.
The rebel army was closing in, and King Nefertari Cobra paced anxiously through the great hall.
"Still no contact with Crocodile?!"
He roared at the guards. "He's a national hero! Only he can stop the rebels!"
"R-Report, Your Majesty! We can't reach him!"
The guard was drenched in sweat. "And news from Rainbase says there was… a massive explosion!"
Just then—
Hum!!!
Space in the center of the hall twisted violently.
A terrifying pressure descended, instantly blasting the surrounding guards off their feet.
"Who's there?!"
Cobra cried out in shock—but before he could react, several figures appeared out of thin air.
The silver-haired man at the front, clad in a Hokage cloak, ignored everyone and walked straight to the throne—the symbol of royal authority—sitting down without hesitation.
As if it were his own seat.
"You—!"
Cobra trembled with rage. "Insolent! That is this king's throne! Who are you?!"
Uchiha Tobirama rested his chin on one hand, gazing down at Cobra with indifferent eyes—as if looking at a clown.
"Cobra," he said calmly, his voice soft yet echoing throughout the hall.
"I've cleaned house for you."
Clang!
A golden hook was tossed at Cobra's feet, still stained with dried blood.
"This is—?!"
Cobra's pupils shrank.
Crocodile's golden hook. He would recognize it anywhere.
"That sand crocodile is dead," Tobirama said flatly, as if talking about crushing an insect.
"That so-called 'national hero' was nothing more than a thief who wanted to steal your country."
"He planted the Dance Powder. He stirred up the rebels."
"His goal was the Poneglyph buried beneath this land—and Pluton."
"What?!"
Cobra froze, struck dumb.
If anyone else had said this, he would have doubted it.
But the evidence lay right before him.
Crocodile… dead?!
"Thanks to me," Tobirama continued, leaning back on the throne, "your country didn't change hands."
"So I'll sit on this throne for a while. Any objections?"
"N-No! None at all!"
Cobra reacted instantly.
Anyone capable of killing Crocodile was a hundred times more terrifying than a mere Warlord.
And this man had just eliminated Alabasta's greatest hidden threat.
"Thank you, great benefactor! Thank you!"
Cobra bowed deeply, overcome with relief. "You are the savior of the Nefertari family!"
"Prepare the highest-class state banquet at once! We must—"
"Banquet?"
Tobirama frowned, impatience flashing in his eyes.
"I don't have time to eat and drink with you."
"My chef is ten thousand times better than your royal kitchen."
He stood up, his aura alone forcing Cobra to step back.
"I didn't come here to listen to nonsense."
"I've already sent Robin to take a rubbing of the Pluton Poneglyph."
"As for you—"
His gaze passed over Cobra and landed on the blue-haired girl hiding behind him in a splendid princess's dress.
Nefertari Vivi.
Still young, yet already carrying an innate nobility—and eyes filled with concern for her country and people.
Her attempt to remain calm despite her fear was… rather endearing.
"You're the princess who wanted to go undercover, aren't you?"
Tobirama descended the steps and stopped in front of her.
"Eh?!"
Vivi jumped in surprise, clutching her father's clothes tightly as she looked up at him.
So tall… so handsome… and terrifying…
Tobirama reached out and lifted her chin without hesitation, examining her calmly.
"Good bones."
"Far better than your useless father."
"Rather than being a princess who cries over her country, you're more suited to standing at the pinnacle of power."
"My empire is lacking someone who understands how to govern."
He released her chin. Vivi's face flushed all the way to her ears.
Then, without hesitation, he delivered his verdict.
"Princess Vivi."
"Be my disciple."
"Or rather—"
His lips curved into a meaningful smile, like a devil whispering temptation.
"Watch this country continue to burn in war…"
"Or follow me, and learn how to rule this sea with absolute power."
"Choose."
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