THE ABSOLUTE HAKI IS COMPLETED

The Marines aboard the warship stared in disbelief.

"Did… did Hawkeye just lose to Carl Ensign?"

"That's the world's strongest swordsman… the man who sits at the top of all swordsmen!"

"I'm not dreaming, am I?"

Only Roy snapped out of the daze first. He turned to glare at the group of Marines, his expression firm.

"What kind of expressions are those?!" he barked.

"Carl Ensign is a true Marine of justice!"

"That Hawkeye—Dracule Mihawk—is still a pirate! Is it really that surprising that he lost to Carl Ensign?"

The Marines looked at each other hesitantly. "Is that… really the case?"

"Of course!" Roy clenched his fists, his voice filled with conviction. "You all don't understand Carl Ensign's ambition! He joined the Marines for justice!"

"Woooooo~ A noble person like Carl Ensign is the ideal Marine!"

Tears welled in his eyes as he spoke. The surrounding Marines, deeply moved by his words, felt their admiration for Carl grow.

A Marine murmured with respect, "Despite his strength, Carl Ensign willingly started from the rank of Ensign… That's the kind of man we should look up to!"

Another nodded. "Even against the world's strongest swordsman, Carl Ensign ordered us to fall back and fought alone. That's true pride as a Marine!"

Meanwhile, Carl's focus remained solely on Mihawk.

He stood at the front of the deck, countless razor-thin blades floating around him.

"Hey! Mihawk! Don't just leave like that!"

"You were the one who started this fight! You damaged my ship, and now you're just leaving?!"

Mihawk, still seated on his coffin boat, gave a faint smirk. He waved his hand dismissively.

"I'm already injured. That makes us even, doesn't it?"

He lifted his gaze, eyes sharp as a hawk's.

"And besides… even though you wield a blade, you are not a swordsman."

Carl blinked in confusion. "Huh?"

"This is a pity," Mihawk continued. "You clearly have the potential to surpass me… to become the world's greatest swordsman."

Carl rolled his eyes. "Who the hell wants to be a swordsman? You sword guys are all nuts."

Seriously—he had noticed that every strong swordsman he met seemed to have a single-track mind.

The man in front of him, and that green-haired idiot from before, were the same.

Mihawk smirked again. "And let's not forget, I am one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. Technically speaking, you Marines aren't allowed to attack me."

Carl scoffed. "You were the one who struck first. There's no rule against fighting back."

He raised his right hand. "Jijing Senbonzakura—"

The floating blades shifted, a lethal storm ready to descend.

Mihawk's golden eyes narrowed. "If this fight continues, your warship will be reduced to nothing."

Carl hesitated. The razor-thin blades froze in midair.

He understood Mihawk's warning. If the battle escalated, his warship wouldn't survive the aftermath.

"Tch." Carl clicked his tongue in annoyance.

With a wave of his hand, the countless blades reassembled, forming his katana once more.

Mihawk watched with interest, rubbing his chin. "A fascinating blade… No, a fascinating ability."

Carl snorted. "Whatever. Just get lost already."

He had no interest in heading to the Grand Line.

If a monster like Mihawk could be found in East Blue, he didn't want to know what kind of lunatics lurked in the Grand Line.

His plan was simple—stay in East Blue. Live a stable life.

Mihawk gazed up at him, his sharp eyes locking onto Carl's.

"Solomon Carl… I'll remember your name."

He turned his boat around, the eerie black coffin slowly drifting away.

"A small pond cannot raise a dragon."

"You'll end up in the Grand Line sooner or later. And when you do… I'll be waiting."

His voice faded as his boat disappeared into the distance.

Only then did Mihawk reach up to touch the wound on his chest. A faint trace of blood stained his fingers.

"More damage than I expected…" he muttered.

A small smile played at his lips.

Carl's attack had carried the most advanced form of Armament Haki—Internal Destruction.

It looked like an ordinary punch. But beneath the surface, the shockwaves had ruptured his internal organs.

On the warship, Carl sneered.

"Hah. As if I'd ever go to the Grand Line."

Let those Four Emperors, Admirals, and the Revolutionary Army fight their own battles.

It had nothing to do with him.

He was Solomon Carl.

And he loved East Blue.

When Mihawk's boat fully vanished from sight, Carl called out, "Roy."

"Yes! Carl Ensign!" Roy immediately ran over.

"Get someone to fix the deck," Carl said, pointing at a cracked plank. "And don't report this to the branch."

Roy blinked. "Don't report it?"

Then, as if realizing something, he nodded with understanding.

"Yes! I understand!"

Carl nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Make sure it's done quickly—I'm going to rest."

With a wave of his hand, he turned and headed for the cabin.

Watching Carl's back, Roy clenched his fists.

"Carl Ensign… He defeated Mihawk, yet refuses to take credit for it."

"One day, I'll make sure the whole world knows your name."

Meanwhile, aboard Mihawk's coffin boat…

A Den Den Mushi rang.

Mihawk picked it up.

"Heh… so you lost?"

A carefree, amused voice rang from the receiver.

"How amusing. You—the great Dracule Mihawk—lost to some unknown Marine in East Blue? Gahahaha!"

Mihawk sighed. "Shanks… I'm not joking."

He leaned back, touching the wound on his chest.

"That man is no ordinary Marine."

"Oh?"

The voice on the other end finally quieted.

"So, what do you think? Is he really a hidden powerhouse? Maybe someone the Marines secretly trained?"

"I don't know." Mihawk's voice remained indifferent. "But I've never heard the name Solomon Carl before."

There was a long silence. Then—

"Hah! Mihawk, are you calling me just to warn me to be careful?"

Mihawk twitched. "Tch—"

But before he could say anything, the Den Den Mushi clicked.

Shanks had hung up.

Mihawk sighed. "That bastard…"

He glanced at the sea, his expression unreadable.

"Solomon Carl…"

"A man that strong—why is he staying in East Blue?"

Far away, in the New World, the Red Force sailed under a bright sky.

Shanks leaned against the railing, arms crossed.

"Something wrong, Captain?"

Ben Beckman walked over, cigarette in hand.

Shanks scratched his chin.

"Well… I just heard about a really interesting guy."

He repeated Mihawk's story.

Beckman frowned. "Solomon Carl? Never heard of him."

"If Mihawk's serious about this, that guy might be Admiral-level."

Shanks grinned. "Exactly. That's what's weird."

"Eh, whatever. We'll figure it out later."

With a wide grin, he turned back to his crew.

"Alright, boys! Banquet time!"

"OHHHHHH!"

Cheers erupted across the ship.

The Red Force sailed onward.

And in the distant waters of East Blue, Carl stretched lazily in his cabin.

A peaceful life.

That was all he wanted.