White Sea, Gate of Heaven.
At last setting foot on land, Mihawk pulled Black Blade Night from behind him. "Beelzebul, draw your sword."
Perhaps because nineteen-year-old Mihawk had yet to become the World's Greatest Swordsman, Seven was spared the humiliation of being toyed with using a pocketknife.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
They exchanged three swift blows, a simple warm-up.
Feeling Seven's strength grow more fearsome by the day, Mihawk offered some advice. "A sword that relies on strength alone has no edge."
After their brief exchange, Mihawk couldn't help but grow even more curious about the unsharpened blade in Seven's hand, its surface glowing purple.
Its toughness alone rivaled Black Blade Night, one of the twelve Supreme Grade Blades in his possession.
A Supreme Grade Blade unlike any he'd seen before?
Then Seven wrapped the blade in his black-and-red Conqueror's Haki and crackling lightning.
At the sight, Mihawk's eye twitched, and his hawk-like gaze grew even sharper.
"Conqueror's Haki Infusion? You really are a monster."
In all his years at sea, Mihawk had challenged countless swordmasters in pursuit of the sword, yet he'd never encountered anything like this.
Seven had no Armament or Observation Haki, yet he could use his Conqueror's Haki at the level of Haki Coating.
Calling him unbalanced didn't even begin to describe it!
What kind of spirit had given rise to such a monster?
No wonder he'd been a crewmate of the King of the Pirates. No wonder he'd found the Final Island and the One Piece.
They both swung their swords and unleashed Flying Slashes. One streak of sword energy was purple, the other green.
But compared to Mihawk's green slash, powerful enough to cleave the sea of clouds, Seven's purple slash looked downright tiny.
Its power, however, was compact and fierce.
After all, it was infused with Conqueror's Haki, and Dream One Heart boosted its Haki strength by 100%.
Since Seven had yet to awaken Armament or Observation Haki, he could only use the electric waves in the air to predict Mihawk's attacks.
He also couldn't use Armament Haki to increase his attack power or defense.
In short, with Haki Coating and his Devil Fruit ability, Seven had already reached the ranks of the sea's top fighters in terms of attack power.
As for defense... best not to mention it.
Unless he could take his Conqueror's Haki to an even higher level—Conqueror's Haki Bodyguard.
Before he'd crossed over, it seemed that Rocks, a real man among men, was the only one in the Pirate World who had ever used Conqueror's Haki Bodyguard.
Thud—
After Mihawk sent him flying dozens of meters, Seven wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "As expected, fighting is the best way to train."
This battle with Mihawk—
Not only had he thoroughly absorbed the swordsmanship experience imprinted in his mind, but the training experience he'd just gained for Thoughtless Sword was also beginning to merge with it.
Even his swordsmanship and Rumble-Rumble Fruit abilities had begun to spark a subtle chemical reaction.
For instance, when he swung his sword to unleash a Flying Slash, bolts of lightning dragoned along behind the sword energy.
And when their swords clashed, Seven could stimulate his body with electric currents, making his adrenaline surge and greatly boosting his strength and reflexes.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
They fought from night until morning, without the slightest sense of fatigue.
Strangely enough, neither of them called out the names of their dazzling techniques.
Mihawk: I don't call out names; I just use normal attacks.
Seven: Same here!
Still, Seven's foundation wasn't strong enough.
After eight hours of fighting, he was the first to collapse onto the ground, panting hard.
In this battle between a Great Swordsman and a swordsman, Mihawk had held back considerably.
There was a four-year age gap between them. Seven had been born with an ordinary physique, had often gone hungry as a child, and had spent his six years aboard the Roger Pirates learning a bit of everything.
Getting this far was already no small feat.
But with Innate Divine Strength and a Big Eater's appetite—or, more accurately, with the system on his side—what Seven lacked was time to grow. Given enough time, he could turn the whole world upside down.
Mihawk sheathed Black Blade Night and reached out to pull Seven up. "Not bad. You've improved."
Maybe in five years... no, two years, this guy would be a worthy opponent.
Seven was just about to keep strengthening his bond with Mihawk when an ill-timed voice suddenly called out, "Captain, someone's here."
A group of warriors emerged from the forest.
Shandora had originally been part of Jaya. Four hundred years ago, a massive Upward Sea Current had hurled it up into the White Sea.
The Skypieans discovered the land, and the Skypieans and the native Shandia people began a war over it that had lasted for four centuries.
The natives with little wings on their backs who appeared before Seven were Shandia people. One of them, a Shandia Warrior who looked like a leader, asked tentatively,
"Seven?"
An acquaintance? Seven studied the man who'd spoken, and a memory from two years ago surfaced.
"Calpa? Long time no see."
Calpa was a descendant of Calgara, the great Shandia warrior from four hundred years ago.
Two years earlier, the Roger Pirates had come to Skypiea and found a Poneglyph inscribed with information about the Ancient Weapon Poseidon.
They had also met Calpa, a Shandia warrior, and Gan Fall, the sixth God of the Skypiean God's Country.
After a warm embrace, Calpa asked, "Did you find the One Piece? Where are Captain Roger and the others? Why are you here by yourself?"
Seven gave him a brief, selective account of what had happened after he left Skypiea.
"I can't believe a man like Captain Roger chose to turn himself in."
"We all respect the captain's choice. What about you? Are you still fighting with Gan Fall and the others all the time?"
Calpa shook his head. "Things have been quiet for a while. Come on, let's head back and throw a banquet."
"Now that you mention it, I'm hungry again."
In the Pirate World, throwing a banquet was like eating dumplings during a holiday back in Seven's old life—
In a good mood? Let's throw a banquet.
In a bad mood? Throw a banquet.
During their search for the One Piece with the Roger Pirates, Seven had made many friends. The main reason so many crewmates remembered him was his excellent cooking.
Meeting new friends called for a banquet, and banquets naturally called for good food and drink.
As the Roger Pirates' cook, Seven had won over not only the crew with his food and wine, but friends from all walks of life as well.
As they passed the spot where the Golden Pillar stood, Seven feigned surprise. "What happened to that pillar?!"
Calpa looked annoyed. "Don't ask. It was stolen just last night."
"What?!"
Seven gestured dramatically with both hands. "A gold pillar that huge—how did anyone carry it away?"
"Who knows?" Calpa continued grumbling. "We kept passing out for no reason last night. They must have stolen it while we were out."
At that, Mihawk glanced at Seven without changing his expression. He had a feeling things weren't so simple.
Seven had come up last night, and the Golden Pillar had been stolen last night. The truth was... obvious.
Still, judging by the marks on the ground, the so-called Golden Pillar really had been enormous. So how had Seven stolen it?
And where had he put it?
Mihawk was becoming more and more intrigued by Seven, that man of mysteries.
Cloud Village had been built on an Island Cloud four hundred years ago, after the Skypiean god seized the Shandia people's homeland. It had retained its primitive appearance, with tribal tents and totems.
At the grand banquet, Seven got back to his usual job and once again won over the Shandia with his cooking.
"Seven, we're finally eating your cooking again."
For a long time after the Roger Pirates left Skypiea, the Shandia who'd been lucky enough to attend the banquet had little patience for their own cooks.
They were both cooks, but one made food that lingered in your memory, while the other was practically wasting ingredients.
"Seven, what brings you here this time?"
Seven set down his wineglass. "I'm going to talk to Gan Fall and get your two tribes to stop fighting. You're all descendants of the Moon People. What's the point of all this fighting?"
A Shandia warrior immediately shouted,
"Impossible! Absolutely impossible! We'll never accept that guy as our god."
Seven smiled calmly. "I know. So..."
"How about I become your god?"
Before you continue