The eerie coffin boat lay silently beneath the Red Line's sheer cliffs. Two emerald candles at its bow burned with unwavering, cold flames, barely illuminating the impenetrable, milky sea fog around it.
The candlelight revealed a figure as straight and sharp as a blade-Dracule Mihawk, "Hawk-Eye," the World's Greatest Swordsman.
He had sailed from the New World and crossed the Grand Line solely to fulfill a promise made when he parted with Red-Haired Shanks. The small cross-shaped knife that served in place of a figurehead gleamed faintly in the mist.
As one of the Shichibukai, he could have used his privileges to take Mary Geoise's dedicated lifts or secret passages.
But he disdained them. To the masses, this red precipice that spanned the world and divided the Four Seas was an insurmountable natural barrier. To him... it was merely a stretch of "road" that required serious attention.
He rose with economical movements, first gathering the little white sail that served almost no purpose and folding it carefully;
Then he bent down, gently blew out the green candles, and stored them in a hidden compartment beneath his seat. Once finished, he stood firmly at the coffin boat's stern, his feet seemingly rooted in place.
Then he did something that defied common sense-he lowered his body slightly, pressed down on the stern, and shifted his weight backward. With exquisite control, he slowly raised the entire front of the boat clear of the water!
Pivoting on its stern, the boat stood almost perpendicular to the sea, like a black dagger poised to pierce the heavens. Mihawk's gaze sharpened. Power erupted from his waist, abdomen, and legs as he slammed the raised stern down toward the sea!
Boom!
It was not the dull thud of a stern striking water, but the muffled roar of