As Mosen stared at Shanks, he suddenly felt a chill down his spine, his hair standing on end. Malice seemed to circle him.
This feeling… someone’s trying to harm me!
“Kid, Mosen, I’m going to start attacking now. I hope my swordsmanship will inspire you,” Shanks said.
Shanks’ sword thrust was straightforward and not particularly fast—he held back his power. Otherwise, Mosen wouldn’t have had a chance to react and would have been instantly defeated.
Although Shanks’ thrust wasn’t fast compared to his full power, it was already beyond what Mosen could handle but still allowed Mosen to defend himself somewhat.
This was the benefit of having guidance from a top-tier fighter. They could see your shortcomings and steer you away from mistakes, which was much better than figuring things out alone.
This is what legacy is about, which is why the Navy has reigned over the seas for centuries. Other forces can only submit to it, even in the Great Pirate Era, where only a united front of pirates could challenge it.
When Shanks’ sword thrust came, Mosen could see its trajectory clearly, yet he felt he couldn’t avoid it.
His body, honed through constant training and battles, instinctively reacted before his mind did. He held his long sword horizontally, facing Shanks’ sword tip, and braced himself.
Shush.
The blade of “Kite” bent in an arc under the thrust, and Mosen was pushed back several meters, leaving deep furrows in the grass.
But it wasn’t over. After his thrust was blocked, Shanks transitioned to a downward slash. As Mosen raised his sword to block, Shanks changed his slash to a horizontal cut, grazing Mosen’s chest.
Mosen instinctively leaned back, but he was still a bit too slow. A cut appeared on his chest, blood seeping out.
Without changing his expression, Mosen activated his fruit ability, causing the blood to slide off. The relatively shallow wound began to heal slowly.
Seizing the moment when Shanks’ move was spent, Mosen stepped forward and swung his sword.
However, it still needed to be more effective. With Shanks’ Kenbunshoku Haki, Mosen couldn’t hope to land a hit unless Shanks stood still.
A light tap on Mosen’s sword sent it off course, making him momentarily lose balance.
Thud!! A foot grew larger in Mosen’s vision until it slammed into his face, leaving a giant shoe print. And, of course, it was a foot imbued with Haki.
WTF?
This is heartbreaking, big guy. Why the face? I know you’re jealous of my handsomeness, but we’re friends here. Give me some dignity, will you?
Dazed from the kick, blood trickling from his nose, Mosen’s previously fair face now sported a large shoe print, making for a comical sight.
The spectators laugh, and Lucky Roux even drops his roasted meat in joy.
Just wait, I’ll get even with all of you later.
Mosen’s face turned black as coal. These bastards loved targeting his face. If they didn’t hit his face, they’d still be friends. If they did… well, there was not much he could do since he couldn’t beat them.
Clutching his sword, Mosen charged at Shanks again. Although he still couldn’t land a hit, observing Shanks’ swordsmanship taught him to learn and correct his own mistakes, improving his technique.
If not for the numerous shoe prints and scattered wounds on his body, along with a black eye and a big bump on his head, this battle would have been a significant victory.
After being knocked back again, Mosen stood five meters away from Shanks, panting heavily, trying to catch his breath.
“Shanks, the warm-up is over. Show me the higher levels of swordsmanship.”
Despite looking battered, Mosen’s eyes burned with intensity. Sometimes, he wondered if he had awakened some S&M tendencies. Before coming to the pirate world, he couldn’t even handle a shot without crying. Now, he had gotten used to the pain.
“One more sword strike, and you might die. Are you sure?” Shanks asked, seeing the familiar look in Mosen’s eyes—a look of determination.
Unseen pretentiousness is the deadliest!
I’m so scared. What should I do? How should I die to look fabulous? Any advice?
“Come on! Show me the gap between me and a real powerhouse!”
Did you hear that, big guy? I’m secretly praising you. You’re the absolute powerhouse. Please go easy on me, and don’t kill me.
Unaware of Mosen’s inner thoughts, Shanks’ aura intensified. He gripped Gryphon with both hands, raising it and slowly bringing it down in a slash.
In an instant, a strong sense of impending death flooded Mosen’s mind. This was an experience he had never felt before. In five years in this world, it was his first time encountering such a powerful killing intent.
Too strong. This level of strength was beyond anything Mosen could imagine. Compared to this, all his previous enemies were nothing.
Countless thoughts flashed through his mind. His body’s instincts screamed at him to dodge, warning that he would die if he didn’t.
However, Shanks’ move, though appearing slow, struck with incredible speed. As Mosen started to move, the attack had already arrived.
Smack! Mosen fell flat on his back, a 30-centimeter gash stretching from his shoulder to his chest, blood gushing out.
A deep, massive slash mark extended from Mosen’s position, stretching dozens of meters before fading, demonstrating the slash’s power.
Blood trickled from Mosen’s mouth as he stared blankly at the sky, his expression a mix of sorrow and joy.
He knew Shanks had held back. For a moment, he genuinely thought he was going to die. After all, he was a Navy officer, and Shanks and his crew were pirates—natural enemies. From Shanks’ perspective, eliminating a future threat made perfect sense.
But Shanks was more generous than he had imagined. He never expected such a noble pirate to exist.
Still, he had to get stronger. Feeling that his life was out of his control was incredibly frustrating.
“Mosen, this sea is too small. Go to the Navy Headquarters. Next time we meet, be an outstanding Navy officer, Lieutenant!”
Shanks adjusted his straw hat and walked away with his officers toward the town.
“Hey, Shanks!”
“Hmm?”
“Next time we meet, I won’t lose to you!”
“I’ll be waiting.”
……
As Shanks and his crew disappeared, Mosen ground his teeth.
I needed to be more focused on being cool. They could have bandaged my wound before leaving. But that would have ruined the relaxed atmosphere. In terms of showmanship, I, Mosen, am second to none.
After all, if you’re not living to look cool, what’s the point?
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps approached from a distance.
“Captain, there’s an injured person here!”
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