Chapter 181 (Patreon)

It was eight in the morning.

After a simple breakfast, Mihawk left the villa alone.

He did not bring Saeko with him.

Now that he knew which world he had entered—and that modern civilisation would soon be swallowed by darkness—Mihawk intended to accomplish his objective as quickly as possible.

When someone at Mihawk’s level became serious, the difference between him and ordinary beings was overwhelming. It was no different from Madara Uchiha facing the Allied Shinobi Forces alone.

Several zombies wandered onto the street ahead of him.

Mihawk’s icy-blue eyes immediately changed.

Dark lines spread across the zombies’ bodies, clearly revealing the death of every limb, organ, and bone.

Mihawk disappeared.

Swish!

A pale gleam flashed through the morning air.

Rip!

Blood sprayed across the pavement as more than a dozen zombies were severed almost simultaneously. Arms, legs, and torsos struck the ground in rapid succession.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The noise immediately attracted the zombies wandering nearby.

“Rrraaaagh!”

The moment they detected Mihawk, their previous sluggishness disappeared. Zombies nearly a hundred metres away opened their jaws, revealing teeth covered in rotting flesh, and charged toward him with twisted expressions.

They were fast by ordinary human standards.

Mihawk was already standing among them before they had crossed half the distance.

Yesterday, he had treated his journey through the city as little more than a walk. He had wandered without any particular destination, killing only the zombies that blocked his path or happened to pass near him.

Even then, the number of zombies that had died by his hand reached the hundreds.

Today was different.

Mihawk was actively searching for them.

However, his purpose was not merely to reduce the number of zombies in the city.

Just as he had once comprehended Return to One, Mihawk now intended to create an entirely new form of swordsmanship—one centred upon death itself.

His Mystic Eyes of Death Perception allowed him to see the lines and points representing the death of all things. By cutting along those lines, he could sever a target’s existence regardless of its physical strength.

But being capable of seeing death and incorporating that principle into his swordsmanship were two completely different things.

The Mystic Eyes were still an external ability.

Mihawk wanted to turn what they showed him into something his sword could reproduce.

That was why he chose to fight the zombies at close range rather than destroying them from a distance with Ranged Slashes. Every time his blade crossed a line of death, he carefully observed the sensation transmitted through the weapon and the precise moment the target’s existence was severed.

Once he fully understood that principle, he would integrate it into the swordsmanship he had already developed.

If he succeeded, the result would take his sword beyond its current limits.

Another group of zombies rushed toward him.

Mihawk stepped forward.

His sword moved without wasted motion, cutting through the lines visible within his eyes.

The zombies offered no more resistance than sheets of paper.

Limbs and torsos separated cleanly before falling across the street.

Although blood sprayed from every severed body, not a single drop touched Mihawk.

His Observation Haki allowed him to perceive every movement around him, while his speed and control made avoiding the splatter effortless. Even while surrounded, he moved through the narrow spaces between the blood as naturally as he avoided an enemy’s weapon.

Combined with Shave, the Body Flicker Technique, and his ability to channel chakra through his feet to cross walls and rooftops, killing the zombies was absurdly easy.

The streets were deserted apart from abandoned vehicles. Some had crashed into storefronts or streetlights, while others sat motionless in the middle of the road with their doors hanging open.

Zombies wandered aimlessly among them.

Then they began falling apart.

Some lost their limbs before they even noticed Mihawk.

Others continued stumbling forward until the upper halves of their bodies slid from their waists.

A ghostlike afterimage flickered from one part of the street to another.

Mihawk stamped against the ground more than ten times in an instant, generating enough force to propel himself forward at extraordinary speed.

The sharp burst of sound drew the zombies’ attention.

Before they could locate its source, Mihawk had already appeared somewhere else.

By the time their heads turned toward him, their bodies had been severed.

Corpses and dismembered remains gradually covered the roads and pavements.

As the sun climbed higher, the temperature rose, and a rancid smell began spreading through the city.

An hour contained 3,600 seconds.

A full day contained 86,400.

Even while deliberately observing every cut, Mihawk needed less than five seconds to eliminate a group of more than a dozen zombies.

The killing itself required no effort.

What consumed his attention was the search for the principle hidden behind their deaths.

Every creature possessed different lines.

Their positions shifted with movement, and the sensation produced when they were severed was not always identical. Mihawk studied those differences while searching for something common to every death he witnessed.

It was not about killing more efficiently.

Against enemies at this level, efficiency was meaningless.

He wanted to understand what his Mystic Eyes were actually showing him.

Three hours passed.

By then, Mihawk had travelled far from the villa.

Every street he crossed was left filled with the remains of zombies. Not one of them had managed to touch him, and neither his body nor his clothes carried so much as a speck of blood.

More than ten thousand zombies had fallen to his blade.

During that entire period, Mihawk had not used a single Ranged Slash.

Had extermination been his only objective, he could have erased every zombie within sight in moments. He might even have destroyed most of the country along with them.

That would have taught him nothing.

The system silently recorded several new achievements, including one for surpassing ten thousand kills, but Mihawk paid little attention to the notifications.

His focus remained upon his sword.

After cutting through more than ten thousand lines of death, he had begun to grasp something he could not put into words.

It was faint and incomplete, but it was there.

That alone made the morning worthwhile.

Mihawk could have continued, but the number of zombies remaining outside had fallen sharply. Apart from those trapped inside houses and other buildings, almost none remained on the surrounding streets.

As their numbers decreased, he was forced to travel farther between each group.

Continuing to search this area would be inefficient.

Even if zombies from other districts eventually wandered into the cleared streets, they would not arrive anytime soon.

Mihawk sheathed his sword and turned back toward the villa.

Despite spending three hours moving beneath the morning sun, his breathing remained unchanged. His kimono was as clean as when he had left, and his long silver hair had not been disturbed.

He looked as though he had merely gone for a quiet morning walk.

After returning to the villa, Mihawk entered through the rooftop door he had cut open the previous night.

Saeko heard him arrive and stepped into the second-floor corridor.

“Sensei.”

She had already changed out of the clothes she had worn during the night. Although the bruises across her shoulders still ached, she kept her posture straight in his presence.

Saeko looked over Mihawk carefully.

There was no blood on him, no damage to his clothes, and no sign that he had encountered any danger.

However, something about his eyes seemed different.

Mihawk appeared to be contemplating something far beyond her understanding. Even after returning, part of his attention remained fixed upon whatever he had discovered during those three hours.

Saeko hesitated before asking, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Not yet,” Mihawk answered.

He had only begun to understand the path before him.

Developing an entirely new style of swordsmanship would not be accomplished by cutting down ten thousand weak opponents in a single morning.

Still, he had taken the first step.

Mihawk looked toward Saeko.

“Pack your things,” he said. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Saeko nodded and immediately returned to the room to collect their supplies.

Mihawk remained in the corridor, one hand resting near the hilt of his sword.

Return to One represented everything he had previously gathered and condensed into a single strike.

This new path was different.

Once Mihawk completely understood it and merged that principle with his existing swordsmanship, he would finally reach a realm his previous techniques could not touch.