Chapter Thirty-Six: A Friendly Duel

Shells Town, at the docks.

Amidst the townsfolk’s farewells, the naval soldiers escorted Morgan and Beruemeber, delivering them to the ship that now belonged to Roland. As they disembarked, they looked at Roland as if gazing upon a ghost.

Good heavens—capturing an entire ship of pirates single-handedly was impressive enough, but there were also Krieg and his officer, Baruch, locked in the warehouse, and now even the captain of the Iron Blade Pirates was among the prisoners.

“Mr. Roland, here is the letter of recommendation from the Shells Town Navy, as well as a petition signed by all the townspeople,” the chief petty officer said, handing Roland the envelope containing the documents he had previously requested.

In truth, even if Roland hadn’t asked, the chief had already intended to report this matter to his superiors. With someone like Roland, he didn’t want the higher-ups—out of some misguided sense of political correctness—to push Roland into the arms of the pirates.

Taking the envelope, Roland slipped it into his pocket and said, “If someone like Morgan ever appears in Shells Town again, I hope you’ll try to handle it yourself—or contact Smoker in Loguetown. Don’t compromise for the sake of your family anymore.”

The chief nodded solemnly, saluted alongside the marines, and returned to the base. Morgan was dealt with, but there were still plenty of troubles left in Shells Town.

“So, what do you say?” Roland turned to Zoro, whose eyes were filled with anticipation.

Originally, Roland had only intended to take Nami back to the East Blue; on a whim, he had accepted Gin. But now, encountering Zoro, new ideas began to form. Here was someone destined to become the world’s greatest swordsman—why not recruit him while his strength was still growing, rather than leave him to fall in with Luffy and become a pirate?

“Fight me,” Zoro declared. “I can sense it—you’re a powerful swordsman.”

Zoro’s whole purpose for setting out to sea was to become stronger, to fulfill the promise to Kuina and claim the title of greatest swordsman. Now, to meet a swordsman around his own age whose strength so vastly surpassed his own, he couldn’t help but want to measure himself.

“You’re nowhere near my equal,” Roland replied, shaking his head, and refused Zoro’s challenge. It wasn’t arrogance—his strength truly far exceeded Zoro’s.

According to the system’s ranking, level seven swordsmanship made one a master; level eight, a great swordsman; level nine, a supreme swordsman. Roland was at level six and halfway to the next, already with one foot in the realm of sword masters.

And Zoro? He hadn’t even met Luffy yet—the story hadn’t begun. In the original plot, Zoro achieved ‘cutting iron’ in Alabasta, which corresponded to level five; Roland himself had learned it at level five, meaning Zoro was currently not even at that stage.

Comparing sword skills alone, Roland was at least two levels above Zoro. How could Zoro be his match?

“I know that better than you do. But a swordsman must always challenge the strong,” Zoro pressed on.

If before, Zoro’s most desired opponent had been Mihawk, now the person he most wanted to face was Roland—his peer, yet so far ahead in swordsmanship.

To challenge a peer who had achieved such mastery was, in some ways, more compelling than chasing a legend.

Seeing Zoro so determined, Roland could only sigh. After a moment’s thought, he countered, “Have you mastered the ability to cut iron?”

“Cut iron?” Zoro was taken aback. Someone had mentioned that term to him before—but who was it?

He scratched his head, brows knitted in concentration, and finally dug up the memory.

He had been very young then.

“Master, is it true there are people in this world who can cut through steel?” he once asked.

“Yes, it’s true,” Koshiro nodded.

Standing on a patch of open ground, Koshiro pulled out a sheet of paper. “Watch this closely...”

He tossed the paper into the air, and as it drifted slowly down, he drew his sword and slashed at it.

And then...

The sheet of paper was left untouched, not even a scratch.

“...Master, that didn’t cut anything at all,” Zoro protested, bewildered.

“Listen carefully, Zoro. There are swordsmen in this world who cannot cut anything, yet they can slice through steel—with the very same blade,” Koshiro explained gently. “The strongest sword is the one that protects what you wish to protect, and cuts only what you wish to cut.”

“To me, a sword that cuts everything is not a true sword.”

Back then, Zoro didn’t understand—he only stubbornly declared he would become a swordsman who could cut through anything.

So many years had passed, and he seemed to have forgotten that old vow. If Roland hadn’t mentioned it today, he might have left the notion of cutting iron entirely behind.

“I still can’t do it,” Zoro admitted, shaking his head. He had grown stronger lately—ordinary blades could hardly withstand his power anymore. But cutting iron was still beyond him.

“I can,” Roland said, scanning the area until he found a massive chunk of iron. With a single stroke, he sliced through it as if it were tofu.

But he didn’t stop there. “Do you know what a flying slash is?”

“Flying slash?” Three question marks seemed to appear above Zoro’s head. He stared at Roland in blank confusion. He had never heard of such a thing.

“I can do that too.” Roland casually swung his sword, sending a dark red flying slash that instantly severed the mast from which the pirate flag had once flown.

Zoro fell silent.

He’d known the gap between their abilities was vast, and had prepared himself for it—but he hadn’t expected the gulf to be even wider than he’d imagined.

His master Koshiro had spoken of cutting iron—Roland could do that. But Koshiro had never even mentioned a flying slash, and yet Roland could do it as well.

Was this really someone his own age? The more Zoro looked, the more Roland seemed like a monster who had regained his youth.

“So if you challenge me now, you’re only destroying your own swordsmanship,” Roland said quietly. “If the gap in strength is small, it’s a challenge. But if it’s too great, it will only crush your confidence.”

Zoro nodded in comprehension. He understood what Roland meant, but he had reasons he could not set aside.

Drawing his two newly purchased swords and clenching Wado Ichimonji in his teeth, Zoro insisted, “I know the difference between us is too great. But if I don’t even dare challenge a peer, how can I ever hope to face Mihawk, or become the world’s supreme swordsman?”

“Don’t worry, my will to grow stronger is unshakable. No matter how badly I lose today, that conviction won’t change.”

“Please accept my challenge, Mr. Roland.”

His eyes were resolute—nothing could shake his resolve.

“I understand,” Roland replied after a long silence, finally nodding. Nara and Shorttooth appeared in his hands.

How foolish of him—did he really think someone like Zoro would waver after just a defeat or two? The burden Zoro bore was not his own alone—it was also the dream of the long-dead Kuina.

He had lost so utterly to Mihawk, yet his conviction remained unchanged. He had sworn never to lose again.

How could a match with Roland—even a crushing defeat—diminish that resolve?

“You are a swordsman worthy of respect. As a matter of honor, I will face you with all my strength.”

Assuming his twin-sword stance, Roland prepared to fight with both blades for the first time since setting out to sea.

“Dual wielding? I’m honored!” Zoro grinned, realizing Roland’s strength was even greater than he’d imagined. All the better—this way, he could clearly see just how far he was from the world’s summit.

“Come, Great Thousand Worlds!” Zoro’s eyes grew fierce as he unleashed his strongest technique straight away.

“Two-Sword Style: Lion’s Song!”

Facing Zoro’s attack, Roland held nothing back. Though he didn’t use the most powerful move he’d learned from Golden Lion, the technique he chose was more than enough.

Roland’s speed was astonishing. In the blink of an eye, he and Zoro passed each other.

Then—everything went still.

“Who won?” Koby, holding his breath, watched the duel unfold.

“Of course my brother did!” Little Donna, who had already forgiven Roland, shouted at once.

Nami was silent. This was her first time witnessing Roland’s true skills.

She had seen his dark red flying slash, but hadn’t realized it was so powerful.

She’d heard of Zoro—the famous bounty hunter of the East Blue—and yet, though Zoro was a swordsman, he couldn’t perform such techniques at all.

Watching the fight, and especially after seeing Roland’s strength, for the first time she felt the urge to ask him for help.

A man who could so easily defeat Zoro must surely be far stronger than Arlong.

With a crack, both of Zoro’s new swords shattered, and he fell to his knees, coughing up blood. Only the Wado Ichimonji remained whole.

“Hahaha... ha ha ha ha!” Zoro put away his treasured sword and suddenly burst into laughter.

There wasn’t a scratch on his body; the blood was from the shock of the sword clash, which his body had struggled to withstand.

He knew he hadn’t been injured—and he understood why.

Turning to Roland, Zoro asked, “Can you tell me—how far are you from Mihawk?”

He already knew the gap between himself and Roland, but he wanted to understand what difference separated Roland from Mihawk.

Was it a dream forever out of reach, or a goal that could be surpassed with effort?

“The gap between me and Mihawk is the same as the gap between you and me now—or perhaps even greater,” Roland said, putting away his swords.

According to the system’s swordsmanship ranking, he was level six, halfway into the realm of sword masters. Mihawk, without question, was at level nine—three tiers above him.

That gap was even wider than the one between himself and Zoro.

“I see...”