Chapter Seven: The Legendary Blade Purple Sovereign and the Awakening of Supreme Might

Very soon, Camus returned to his current home. At that moment, Robin was reading a book in the corridor of the wooden house. Camus never forced Robin to train; he let her do as she pleased, confident that as long as he was by her side, no one would ever harm her.

When Robin saw Camus returning, three swords in hand, she immediately came over. “Camus, are these the weapons you bought?” She observed the three blades—one was short and silver-white, the other two were black-violet and blue. Though Robin had not been practicing the Divine Arts cultivation technique for long, she could already sense that the sword intent in the two longer blades was many times stronger than that of the shorter one.

This was because Camus had noticed that the sword intent in those two blades surpassed that of “Heavenly Snow” by at least tenfold. “Heavenly Snow” was one of the twenty-one Supreme Grade Swords, and for a blade to outclass it by ten times, it could only be one of the twelve Supreme Swords. That was why Camus had purchased them without hesitation.

Perhaps the shopkeeper didn’t recognize their value. Camus surmised that these two Supreme Swords were likely new and unused; he didn’t know by what twist of fate the shopkeeper had acquired them, nor did he care. As long as they were in his hands, that was enough. The Immortal Sword was not something to be shown lightly. Camus sensed that the power of the Immortal Sword was at least a hundred times greater than these two.

In this world, possessing a Supreme Sword was already more than enough. Hawkeye once claimed that his black blade was the strongest sword in the world, but Camus doubted that. The twelve Supreme Swords were all close in strength; even the greatest difference could not be that vast. Perhaps Hawkeye had simply never encountered a sword stronger than his, leading to such arrogance. Camus believed that with absolute strength, even wielding one of the twenty-one Supreme Grade Swords, he could shatter Hawkeye’s blade. When the gap in absolute power appears, the way one wields their strength becomes evident. After all, when the difference is overwhelming, it’s like Hawkeye bullying Zoro with a little dagger.

Looking at the three swords in his hands, Camus was filled with anticipation to see just how powerful the top-tier cold weapons of the One Piece world truly were.

Camus told Robin to step back and walked to the shore. After all, Robin was still too weak. With his mastery of several martial arts and the power of two Devil Fruits, Camus was confident that even facing an admiral in battle, he would not be defeated. Escaping would be simple, given the extraordinary abilities of those two fruits.

With a resonant hum, Camus drew the long black-violet sword. He could feel its weight—nearly ten kilograms—and the sword intent within, as if the blade were sealed.

He ran his hand along the smooth blade and knocked gently, producing a clear, ringing sound.

“Such a fine sword—why hasn’t it been sharpened?” Camus wondered at the blade’s complete lack of edge. Was it specially made for releasing large techniques and useless at close quarters? That seemed unlikely.

He gently caressed the sword, sensing its spirit, yearning to soar to the heavens, yet now as aggrieved as a wronged bride.

Suddenly, Camus felt something. He adjusted his stance, feet planted, blade tip forward, and began channeling the surging true energy within his body into the sword.

As he began, the sword started to tremble. Its pure white blade shimmered with a faint purple light, which grew brighter as more energy was poured in. Camus could clearly sense the sword’s joy, as if a sleeping dragon were about to awaken. If it were night, all of Ohara would probably have seen it.

When the sword could absorb no more, having taken in nearly thirty percent of Camus’s energy, he paused to catch his breath. In a flash of lightning, his energy was restored. This was something Camus had only recently discovered: when the Thunderclap Fruit’s power touched his energy-storing dantian, it could be transformed into true energy. Though he didn’t understand why, Camus was optimistic—so long as nothing went wrong, he was content. Besides, the feeling was quite pleasant; every conversion carried a hint of thunder’s power. He wondered if this would still be the case upon reaching the second level of the Divine Arts, as the leap in strength would be significant, and he didn’t know if his dantian could still contain the lightning.

Camus could clearly feel the sword’s excitement. Smiling slightly, he raised the long blade—which seemed almost mismatched to his own height—and swung it down with force.

Before Camus and the distant, wide-eyed Robin, a massive surge of purple sword energy roared forth, tearing the sky apart. The clouds above split in two, and even though there were few clouds, it was clear how they were swept aside in the direction of his swing.

The powerful sword energy lasted a full three seconds before fading, cleaving the sea in front of Camus into a chasm three meters wide, hundreds of meters deep, and stretching beyond the horizon. It was several seconds before the parted waters surged back to close the fissure. There was a hint here of the legendary swordsmanship capable of splitting the sea—a feat where, even after the sword energy has vanished, the sea remains carved open for a long while. Though Camus had not yet reached that level, he could sense that this was the power of the sword.

As he admired the purple patterns on the blade, Camus suddenly watched in shocked anger as cracks raced across its surface. With a gentle sea breeze, the sword shed what seemed like an old skin, revealing a brand-new, gleaming edge. Now clearly razor-sharp, the blade shimmered with a violet radiance. Camus was deeply moved—perhaps the sword required a massive infusion of true energy or something similar, and then, after one great release, it could truly awaken.

Turning the blade, Camus found two powerful characters inscribed on one side: “Purple Sovereign.” This was the sword’s name.

Staring at that bold name, Camus suddenly felt a tightness in his chest. He threw his head back and let out a mighty roar; as he did, an overwhelming aura of dominance swept out, causing all of Ohara to tremble before vanishing just as quickly. It was the Conqueror’s Haki, awakened by the majesty of that name and the power of his strike, finally surfacing from deep within him.

Fortunately, this place was far from any town, and Camus released it only briefly. Still, there would likely be some impact. The moment he roared, Camus regretted it, because Robin was not far away. If she were harmed, he would never forgive himself.

Turning quickly, he saw Robin looking dazed, nearly collapsing. In a flash, he was by her side, anxiously asking, “Robin, are you all right? Robin?”

Robin soon recovered and replied, “What was that just now? I had to operate the Dragon-Phoenix Divine Arts and circulate my true energy completely just to barely resist it. If it had been any stronger, I think I would have passed out.”

Hearing this, Camus finally relaxed. It seemed his first release wasn’t too overwhelming; with practice, the power of his Haki would surely grow.

Gazing out over the distant sea, Camus said, “That is Haki. Conqueror’s Haki—a special form possessed by perhaps one in a million, or maybe even one in ten million.”

…

So tired... Two days of overtime in a row. Not sure if I’ll have to do it again tomorrow. Okay, that’s it for now. I hope everyone supports this novel. Don’t worry, I won’t drop it—after all, I’m still a pure-hearted little netizen. Group number: 78796064

He casually tossed the sword onto the sand.