The Black Blade Craze

West Blue, Flower Country. The thin morning mist had yet to disperse completely, and the Divine Mind One Sword Style dojo on the outskirts of the city was already bathed in the faint light of dawn. The dojo was austere and solemn, its air steeped in sandalwood incense and the passage of years.

The dojo master, Hokushin Ichiteru, sat upright beneath the Sword Offering Stand, which enshrined the memorial tablets of past masters and Famous Swords.

Over sixty years old, he stood more than two meters tall and had a broad frame. Though he sat as still as a pine, the powerful, rocklike physique beneath his dark green swordsman's uniform was still palpable.

His eyebrows resembled snowy blades, and his long silver-white hair was tied behind his head with a simple cloth band.

A wisp of smoke curled up from the copper incense burner beside him. His eyes were closed, his breathing long and steady, his mind immersed in the ultimate essence of stillness.

He listened to the rustling leaves in the wind, the crawling insects and ants in the soil, and even the grain of blades that, though he held none in his hands, seemed to resonate with him. This was the supreme mental state of the Divine Mind One Sword Style: Listening to the Breath of All Things.

Tap, tap, tap-

A series of hurried yet carefully restrained footsteps approached from afar, breaking the dojo's profound tranquility. Their owner was clearly well trained, but amid that absolute stillness, they remained especially jarring.

Hokushin Ichiteru's brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. Then he slowly released a long, deep breath from his lungs, as though suppressing the surrounding agitation along with it.

The sliding door was gently pushed open. One of his personal disciples, Ikeda Mokkei, approached quickly with precise, short steps, his face bearing an unusual flush and urgency.

He stopped five paces from Hokushin Ichiteru, dropped to both knees, and bowed deeply, his forehead nearly touching the cold tatami.

"My deepest apologies, Master! I had no choice but to disturb your meditation at this hour. There is... there is an urgent matter concerning the dojo's future that I must report!" His voice trembled slightly in his haste, but he still observed the utmost courtesy a disciple owed his master.

Hokushin Ichiteru did not answer immediately. The intensely concentrated aura around him stirred slightly, and the hem of his robes and several strands of silver hair over his forehead moved without a breeze. His eyes snapped open, and in that instant, a piercing light flashed within them, like the cold gleam of a Famous Sword leaving its sheath!

Beside the Sword Offering Stand, a fly buzzing above the incense burner split silently in half without warning and drifted down. This was Sword Aura condensed to its utmost, unleashed with a thought!

"With such an agitated mind, how can you glimpse the true meaning of swordsmanship?" Hokushin Ichiteru's voice was calm, yet rang like metal and stone, striking Ikeda Mokkei's heart. "Speak. What has made you lose your composure so completely that you have forgotten the essential principle of stillness?"

Ikeda drew a deep breath and clenched his hands into fists, bracing them on his folded legs as though he needed to draw strength from them. "It... it concerns Senior Brother Thatch..."

"Thatch..." Like an ancient key, the name instantly unlocked the gates of memories long sealed away. A faint, complicated ripple passed through the depths of Hokushin Ichiteru's otherwise tranquil gaze.

His thoughts returned to thirty years ago, to that catastrophe he could hardly bear to recall... His master, the previous head of the Divine Mind One Sword Style, had fallen victim to a treacherous attack during a decisive duel with a sworn enemy in the New World. Their school had nearly been uprooted, and almost all its disciples had been killed or wounded.

Still young at the time, he had carried his gravely wounded, dying master on his back and led the handful of surviving fellow disciples like homeless dogs, hiding here and there, scrambling through one peril after another, until they had finally managed to gain a precarious foothold in the Flower Country of the West Blue.

Thatch had been the first orphan he adopted during those hardest years, as well as his head disciple, in whom he placed great hopes and whom he regarded as the hope for their school's revival. The boy had possessed exceptional talent, reaching the state of Sinews and Bones Resonating at a young age, his swordsmanship progressing by leaps and bounds...

"...Master, I did nothing wrong! That landlord struck first and killed someone, and he was going to take that girl by force! I practice the sword. If I don't release this indignation in my chest, my heart will never be at ease, and the sword in my hand will gather dust!"

In his memories, Thatch's voice rang out again, as upright and unyielding as the greatsword he habitually wielded. That time, outraged by an injustice he witnessed, Thatch had struck down a locally influential tyrant of a landlord, bringing enormous trouble upon the dojo.

Back then, their school had only just been established, its foundations still unstable. To preserve its last surviving flame, he had been forced to endure the pain of... expelling Thatch and sending him far away to settle the matter.

If back then... if only I had been stronger, with enough power and prestige to protect my disciple... how would Thatch have ended up wandering for half his life, wasting his most precious years... Deep regret and helplessness wound around Hokushin Ichiteru's heart like fine thorns.

"Master?" Ikeda Mokkei's voice pulled him from the depths of his memories. "In recent years, Senior Brother Thatch has sent money back every year to support the dojo. This year, besides the money, he also sent two hundred standard-issue blades. Since our dojo has always used bamboo swords or wooden blades for instruction, these iron weapons remained sealed in the storeroom, unused. Today, a junior brother took one to the hill behind us to drive off a wild boar damaging the vegetable garden. He discovered that the blade was extraordinarily sharp. It... it cut the boar's head clean off!"

Ikeda paused, an incredulous look appearing on his face. With both hands, he respectfully raised the standard-issue longsword that had been beside him all along, its hilt facing his master:

"After hearing about it, I grew curious and took one myself. On my first test, I found it incredibly sharp. Then I instinctively channeled a trace of the Sword Aura our school cultivates into it and found that it flowed far more smoothly than through ordinary swords, almost... without any resistance! So I took the liberty of... infusing a trace of genuine Armament Haki!"

As he spoke, Hokushin Ichiteru's gaze fell upon the seemingly unremarkable blade.

The next instant, the pupils of this elderly master swordsman, accomplished and long accustomed to upheaval, contracted to pinpoints!

Under his gaze, a deep, restrained blackness that seemed capable of absorbing all light began spreading from the hilt in Ikeda's grip across the blade, which had originally shone with a cold, silvery-gray metallic gleam. It spread swiftly and evenly, like something alive!

Within a breath, the entire longsword had become a Black Blade radiating a cold, shadowy aura!

Although this Black Blade was not a genuine Black Blade forged from within through countless trials, the Armament Haki energy flowing steadily over it, along with the blade's flawless capacity to contain and conduct that energy, already revealed its staggering nature!

"You... you said the two hundred Thatch sent... are all... like this?" For the first time, Hokushin Ichiteru's voice carried a tremor.

"Yes, Master! I personally inspected more than ten, and every one was like this!" Ikeda's voice trembled with excitement once more.

A deathly silence fell over the dojo. Only that wisp of sandalwood incense continued to drift leisurely through the air.

Yet within this small dojo, a storm powerful enough to overturn the entire West Blue, and even the whole world, was quietly taking shape.

While the Divine Mind One Sword Style dojo reeled in shock from this unexpected discovery, a highly classified, encrypted order spread rapidly through the Marines' dedicated Den Den Mushi network to every branch, base, and even patrol fleet in the West Blue.

The order was brief and peculiar: "Act immediately. Proceed to every weapons shop, smithy, and even black-market trading site within your jurisdiction. Requisition by force or purchase, at any cost, all blades of the specified standard model produced in the Kingdom of Bernia. Maintain secrecy. Give this operation priority!"

The rank-and-file soldiers were baffled by the order-why go to such lengths to collect a batch of seemingly ordinary standard-issue weapons?

But military orders were absolute, and the Marines across the West Blue swiftly took action. Warships docked, soldiers took to the streets, and weapons shops were knocked open one after another. Bewildered and resentful shopkeepers watched as the Marines sealed up and forcibly removed a particular model of blade from their stock.

The Marines' unusual actions immediately alerted the various powers. Keen-scented gangs, underground information brokers, and pirate crews already watching Marine movements closely all began making inquiries.

At first, rumors spread only within small circles: Bernia's blades seemed particularly sharp.

But soon, the first explosive piece of proof appeared.

Somewhere, a frustrated wandering swordsman fought a duel to the death against an enemy, wielding a standard-issue longsword from Bernia that he had bought by chance.

Facing an opponent far stronger than himself who had attained the realm of Cutting Steel, he desperately mustered all his rather limited Armament Haki and poured it into the blade.

A miracle occurred! The blade turned pitch-black in an instant. In a flash of inspiration, he swung his sword, and a concentrated black wave of Sword Aura actually flew free, not only severing his opponent's Famous Sword but also grievously wounding him! With this blade, he achieved an unbelievable reversal!

"A Black Blade! It's a Black Blade! Bernia's blades can be turned into Black Blades!" The news spread like wildfire, instantly setting the entire West Blue's swordsman circles ablaze.

If their previous sharpness had merely been surprising, the notion that embryonic Black Blades could be mass-produced utterly ignited the deepest desires and madness in every swordsman's heart!

Black Blades represented the supreme honor and power countless master swordsmen dreamed of! And now, there seemed to be a shortcut?

Panic, greed, fervor... all manner of emotions intertwined. The powers that had previously watched from the shadows could no longer sit still.

Groups of swordsmen began openly attacking Marine confiscation squads, trying to seize the sealed "divine weapons." Weapons merchants who had once sold these blades were kidnapped overnight or tortured for their sources. On the black market, bounties for these blades soared at an astonishing rate, and every blade that appeared sparked a bloody struggle.

Like a tsunami, this craze rapidly surged beyond the West Blue, sweeping through the East Blue, South Blue, and North Blue.

Throughout the Four Seas, anyone who pursued swordsmanship or thirsted for strength heard the name Aaron Ball, along with tales of his devil-like ability to produce Pseudo-Black Blades. For the first time in a true sense, Boer's reputation stepped onto the grand stage of the Four Seas.

-World Economy News Paper special edition

Just as this worldwide upheaval reached a peak, the latest issue of the World Economy News Paper poured the fiercest fuel onto the storm with unprecedented coverage and sensational headlines.

The front-page headline, printed in enormous bold type, occupied nearly half the page:

[Upheaval! The age of the "Commoner Black Blade" has arrived! Is Boer, the West Blue's "White Monster," the savior of swordsmanship or the destroyer of order?]

Subheading: Exclusive in-depth investigation! Mass-produced divine weapons sweep the Four Seas, and frantic Marine confiscations cannot stop the craze! Why can a blade worth five hundred thousand keep Marine Admirals awake all night and draw the attention of the Four Emperors?

Written personally by our president, Morgans:

"...Dear readers, as you read these words, please touch the swords beside you, whether they are treasured family heirlooms or products of an ordinary smithy. For they may soon be ruthlessly consigned to obsolescence by the times!"

"After verification through multiple sources, this paper has confirmed that the source of this worldwide upheaval is none other than the standard-issue blades mass-produced in the Kingdom of Bernia in the West Blue by the mysterious 'White Monster,' Aaron Ball, using his incredible Magnet-Magnet Fruit powers!"

"Their true value cannot be summed up by the word 'sharp.' Joint tests conducted by top master swordsmen and weapons experts specially invited by this paper, whose identities remain anonymous, have confirmed that these blades conduct Armament Haki with an efficiency exceeding ninety-five percent, with virtually no loss!

"This means that an ordinary swordsman holding such a blade can easily achieve the effects of 'Haki Infusion' and a 'Temporary Black Blade,' comparable to what master swordsmen only learn after years of arduous training! This is no longer a weapon. It is a passport to power!"

"(Insert a blurry sketch allegedly depicting the wandering swordsman's reversal against a great master swordsman.) Look! Here is a living example! A nobody wielding a 'Boer Blade' defeated a renowned master swordsman! Is this a victory for commoners, or the degradation of swordsmanship's dignity?"

"Marine Headquarters' unusual actions are precisely the proof of their fear! They seek to monopolize this power, but they are too late!

"Panic has already taken hold, and the craze cannot be stopped! According to reliable sources, the emperors of the New World have already expressed a keen 'interest,' while the kings of the Underworld have offered astronomical bounties... A fierce struggle over the 'Boer Blade' is already unfolding in the world's shadows!"

"Now, let us turn our attention to the eye of the storm-Aaron Ball himself. Is this seventeen-year-old a genius? A devil? Or a child of misfortune who unwittingly opened Pandora's box? His choices will determine whether this power becomes a weapon for preserving order or a calamity that destroys everything..."

"The world's balance may undergo a transformation unseen in a thousand years, all because of a young man from the West Blue and the 'Commoner Black Blades' he created! This paper will continue following the story, bringing you the latest and most explosive news!"

In a corner of the newspaper was an inconspicuous little advertisement box, but its contents had been deliberately enlarged:

[Urgent purchase]: Buying standard-issue blades produced in the Kingdom of Bernia in bulk. Prices negotiable, no upper limit! Absolute confidentiality and security guaranteed! Contact: Mr. J (Den Den Mushi number: XXXX-XXXX)

Like a ladle of cold water poured into boiling oil, this special edition set the entire world ablaze. Whether swordsmen craving power, factions seeking profit, or those in authority worried about the balance being broken, all fixed their eyes firmly on the West Blue, on the young man named Aaron Ball.

The storm had arrived.