As soon as the system notification echoed in Takumi's mind, a surge of powerful sword energy erupted from him, spreading outwards like a shockwave. Every ruin and stone wall in its path crumbled into fine dust and scattered across the ground.
Almost instantly, Mihawk responded, drawing his sword with incredible speed. Within the blink of an eye, he deflected Takumi's uncontrolled burst of sword energy.
"Your swordsmanship has improved?" Mihawk asked, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Takumi in surprise.
Takumi nodded calmly.
The leap to level 9 in swordsmanship released a power that most people couldn't hope to withstand. Yet Mihawk, even while injured, had immediately reacted and successfully defended against the attack.
As expected from a man who could claim the title of the world's greatest swordsman. He was truly strong.
Takumi's abilities had indeed taken Mihawk by surprise. Swordsmanship was something that typically improved through repeated practice and exchanges with strong opponents. The stronger the opponent, the more you could learn from the battle.
But their earlier skirmish had been more of a game than a serious fight. What could he possibly have learned from that?
Mihawk prided himself on never misjudging people. Yet Takumi's abilities were confounding. From controlling others with shadows to conjuring physical clones, now his swordsmanship had inexplicably improved.
Mihawk found it increasingly difficult to see through this seemingly 15-year-old boy standing before him.
A thought crossed Mihawk's mind, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. Could Takumi's sudden improvement in swordsmanship be tied to forcing Mihawk to surrender earlier?
Having achieved his goal, Takumi's mood was rather light. Seeing that Mihawk was still looking at him, Takumi could roughly guess what was going through the swordsman's mind. He said casually, "Even though my swordsmanship has improved, I still can't match you in a duel."
After a brief silence, Mihawk countered with a question of his own: "Have you ever been injured?"
"I have," Takumi responded.
"Good," Mihawk said, his voice flat. He sheathed his sword and turned his back, beginning to walk away.
Takumi blinked in surprise before following. "Need any help with healing?"
Mihawk immediately declined, "No need."
Takumi remained quiet after that. Since Mihawk had refused, he wasn't going to insist. It saved him the effort and energy anyway.
Even though Takumi possessed an all-attribute chakra physique, every technique he used consumed varying amounts of his physical and mental strength. Overexertion could still take a toll on his body.
Before long, the two of them returned to the castle.
Upon entering, they were greeted by a lively scene. As expected, Shanks and his crew had resumed their grand feast without missing a beat.
The moment Shanks and Takumi entered, the crew erupted in excitement.
"You're back! Does that mean the duel is over? Who won? It had to be Mihawk, right?"
"I'm not so sure! Takumi doesn't have a scratch on him, so maybe he won?"
"No way! Mihawk clearly has his sword back, so it must've been him."
"So, who was it?"
The entire crew turned expectantly toward Takumi and Mihawk, waiting for an answer.
However, neither of them paid any attention to the crowd. They both calmly walked past, as though the excitement around them didn't even exist.
Shanks, smiling broadly, waved them over. "Hahaha! Come on, come on! Now we can finally have a proper drink!"
The two sat back down in their original seats at Shanks' invitation.
Mihawk picked up his cup of wine and took a sip, but barely managed to swallow it before breaking into a coughing fit.
Shanks glanced at him before turning his gaze to Takumi with some surprise. "You didn't heal Mihawk's wounds, did you?"
Takumi took a sip from his own cup and answered calmly, "He refused."
"What?" Shanks blinked in surprise before bursting into laughter. "Hahaha! Mihawk, your pride is ridiculous! You have no idea how amazing Takumi's healing is. I promise you, he could have you fully healed in just a few minutes."
"And what of it?" Mihawk replied coolly. "I'm not so weak as to need my opponent to heal me."
"That won't do," Shanks said, brushing Mihawk's protest aside. "I came here to spar with you, and I know you're not as fine as you're pretending to be. Healing on your own would take months, and I don't have time to wait that long."
"Even if I'm injured, I won't lose," Mihawk said, his voice cold and unyielding. He took another sip of his drink, ignoring the pain coursing through his body. "If you want to fight, we can do it tomorrow or the day after."
Shanks shook his head, half-amused, half-frustrated. "What nonsense are you spouting? There's no way you'll heal in one or two days. I'm not interested in fighting an injured opponent."
Mihawk: "..."
"Fine, forget it," Shanks sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "I've got a lot of things to take care of. I can only stay a few more days. If you won't accept Takumi's help, then at least let our ship's doctor patch you up. Refuse me again, and I won't be so nice about it."
Mihawk reluctantly agreed, "Alright."
"That's more like it! Hahaha! Now, drink up—wait, scratch that. You better cut back on the booze. Takumi, cheers!" Shanks said, ignoring Mihawk as he raised his cup toward Takumi.
Takumi silently clinked his glass against Shanks' and took a sip.
Shanks downed his entire cup in one go, laughing heartily.
The crew, despite not receiving a clear answer about the duel's outcome, quickly moved past it and returned to the festive atmosphere of the party.
After a while, Mihawk was drinking sparingly, but Shanks eventually sent Beckman and their ship's doctor to forcibly take Mihawk away for treatment.
With Mihawk gone, Shanks slid into the seat next to Takumi, grinning mischievously. "Alright, kid, spill it. What's the deal with that solid clone of yours?"
Takumi sipped his drink, replying casually, "You're mistaken. I don't have any solid clone technique."
Shanks nearly spat out his drink, stifling a laugh. "Come on, everyone saw it. Don't tell me we were all seeing things. If there was even a shred of truth to your lie, I'd believe you. But your lying skills are awful, kid."
Takumi: "..."
"And what about that shadow of yours?" Shanks pressed. "I thought you had fire-based abilities. How many secrets are you hiding from me?"
"Does it matter?" Takumi glanced at him, lifting his refilled cup. "Drink up."
Shanks shook his head with a chuckle and raised his cup. "I don't know what to do with you. Fine, drink! Let's see who can handle their booze better, hahaha…"
The party continued for nearly three hours before winding down.
By the end, most of Shanks' crew had drunk themselves into oblivion. Some were sprawled across the tables, while others lay on the ground, snoring loudly.
Since neither Enel nor Kaku had been drinking, they left the castle after getting Takumi's permission to continue their training.
Takumi had been matching Shanks drink for drink, but as soon as he started to feel light-headed, he stopped.
Shanks, looking drunk but still smiling, glanced around at his crew, who had all passed out. He couldn't help but tease them. "Look at you all! Such lightweights, passed out from just this much? Hahaha! Guess we'll have to throw more parties in the future to toughen up your drinking!"
"Yeah, right, Captain," Lucky Roux grumbled. "You just want an excuse to drink more yourself. We all know it."
"Hey, hey! That's not true!" Shanks replied, feigning innocence. "Parties are meant to be enjoyed by everyone! Happiness is something to be shared. Isn't that right, Takumi?" he said, turning to the young swordsman, who was standing up to leave.
Takumi nodded quietly.
"Leaving already?" Shanks laughed. "Hahaha! Looks like your drinking tolerance isn't that great after all. Guess I win in this department, huh?"
Takumi: "..."
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"Sorry, I made the same mistake again. I accidentally copied everything on chapter 233 when I tried to copy my Ko-fi link.
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