But he didn't have time to savor the moment. His golden eyes—Mihawk's eyes—locked onto Whitebeard with cold intensity. The promise of a dignified death still hung in the air, and he knew what he had to do. Not a humiliating execution by Akainu or a sneaky betrayal. No. A swift, honorable end delivered by the blade of the world's greatest swordsman.
He raised Yoru, the black metal humming with restrained energy. Whitebeard, eyes half-closed, managed a faint but defiant smile. "Do it, Hawk…"
But before the blade could fall, a wave of icy darkness swept over the bay. A creeping, viscous shadow rose like a black tide, swallowing light and muffling the distant cries of fighters. The ice beneath their feet began to crack—not from the Gura Gura's power, but from something more insidious, more ravenous. The darkness thickened, engulfing the silhouettes of pirates, marines, and shattered ships until the entire world seemed reduced to an opaque void.
Mihawk froze, Yoru still raised. A faint smile—almost a smirk—tugged at his lips.
Leo, inside his mind, was ecstatic.
I knew he'd come. That bastard couldn't resist an opportunity like this.
He recognized this presence, this stench of betrayal and chaos. He'd seen it in the manga, heard it in the anime's screams.
Teach. Blackbeard.
A guttural laugh tore through the oppressive silence of the darkness. "Zehahaha!" A massive figure emerged from the shadows, its blurry outline sharpening with each heavy step. Marshall D. Teach, arms spread like a predator ready to devour its prey, strode forward with insolent confidence. Behind him, smaller shadows—his crew—took shape, their snickers echoing like a macabre chorus.
"Dracule Mihawk…" Teach's voice was deep, syrupy, laced with barely veiled menace. "Decided to play the hero, huh? Kill old Whitebeard yourself? Tsk… I thought you were above this kind of drama."
Mihawk didn't reply immediately. His golden eyes, sharp as a raptor's, tracked Teach's movements without blinking. Leo, meanwhile, felt his pulse quicken.
He's here for the fruit. The Gura Gura no Mi. He wants to steal it before Whitebeard takes his last breath.
But he wasn't going to let that happen. Not today. Not when he'd promised the Yonko a worthy death.
Teach raised a hand, and the darkness intensified, forming tendrils that lashed toward Mihawk like starving snakes. "Sorry, Hawk, but I'm taking over. This old man's got something that belongs to me."
Leo felt his body react before his mind could even process it. Mihawk was faster than the darkness itself. In one fluid, almost supernatural motion, Yoru descended. The black blade sliced through the air, then flesh, plunging straight into Whitebeard's heart with surgical precision. Blood sprayed, splattering the ice in a scarlet pool. The giant shuddered, a final breath escaping his lips, then collapsed—still standing, locked in a pose of eternal defiance.
"NOOOO!" Teach roared, his eyes widening with rage. The darkness erupted around him, a storm of shadow and fury that swallowed Mihawk, Whitebeard, and Teach himself in an impenetrable black cocoon. The tendrils closed in, isolating the three figures from the rest of Marineford.
Inside this dark prison, Mihawk pulled Yoru from Whitebeard's body with icy calm. Blood dripped from the blade, forming dark rings on the ice. Teach, facing him, trembled with anger, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. "YOU DARED!" he bellowed, his voice booming like thunder in the confined space. "THAT FRUIT WAS MINE!"
Mihawk wiped the blade on his coat, a slow, almost taunting gesture. "You're too late, Teach," he said, his voice as sharp as Yoru's edge. "His death belongs to me. Not you."
Teach gritted his teeth, his bloodshot eyes glinting in the dark. "Why?" he spat. "What made you move, you lone wolf? You don't give a damn about wars, thrones, or treasures! Why now?"
Leo felt a spark of excitement flare within him.
Mihawk's lips curved slightly—not quite a smile, but a shadow of defiance. "I aim for the Pirate King's throne," he declared. "Tell me, Teach… Is dreaming forbidden?"
For a moment, Teach froze in stunned silence. Then a harsh laugh burst from his throat, a guttural sound that shook the darkness itself. "Zehahaha! The Pirate King? You?" He threw his head back, howling with laughter, his shoulders quaking at the absurdity. "You're serious, Hawk? You're actually serious?"
Mihawk didn't answer. He simply sheathed Yoru on his back, the metallic clank against its scabbard ringing like a final punctuation mark.
The darkness began to recede, pulling back like a retreating tide. Marineford's pale light returned, revealing Teach and his crew in full view.
Teach stared at Mihawk with a mix of suspicion and amusement.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that," he said at last, his laughter fading into a twisted grin. "What comes next… Zehahaha… It's gonna get damn interesting."
Marineford's wan light pierced the last wisps of Teach's darkness, unveiling a striking scene. Mihawk stood motionless, Yoru sheathed on his back, his black coat fluttering faintly in the salty breeze. Before him, Whitebeard's body, frozen in eternal defiance, loomed over the ravaged ice like a broken yet unyielding statue. The Yonko's blood pooled scarlet around his feet, stark against the deathly pallor of his extinguished face.
But the swordsman was no longer alone. The shadows had parted to reveal a new threat: Blackbeard's crew in full force. Teach, at the center, still chuckled, his guttural laugh a promise of chaos. Flanking him were his lieutenants—Van Augur, the cold-eyed sniper; Lafitte, twirling his cane with eerie grace; Doc Q, coughing atop his gaunt horse; and Jesus Burgess, his bulging muscles primed to crush anyone who came near—forming a menacing semicircle. And behind them, the massive shadows of Impel Down's freed prisoners emerged: Sanjuan Wolf, the towering colossus whose head nearly brushed the clouds; Catarina Devon, her cruel smile baring sharp teeth; and Avalo Pizarro, broken chains still dangling from his wrists. They encircled Mihawk and Whitebeard's corpse, a wall of raw power and malice.
Teach took a heavy step forward, his black eyes gleaming with greed. He locked gazes with Mihawk, a crooked smile stretching his lips. "Tell me, Hawk…" His voice was low, almost a growl. "What if I killed you right here, right now, to make up for what you did? You took my prey, my fruit, my glory. How about you pay with your blood?"
Mihawk didn't flinch. His golden eyes, piercing as blades, met Teach's without a hint of fear. Then, in a voice cold and cutting, he replied, "Try, Teach."
TO BE CONTINUED...
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