The entire Tobi Roppo—the Flying Six of the Beasts Pirates—had been thoroughly annihilated by Carl.
With a calm flick of his finger in the direction of the central pavilion, Carl invoked his blade's final release:
"Bankai."
Buzz…
The air trembled as millions of gleaming pink cherry blossom petals—razor-thin slivers of steel—whirled silently into the sky.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Each strike of metal on metal sparked violently in the void, echoing through the palace courtyard like bells tolling doom.
Kurozumi Orochi swung wildly with his curved blades, his attacks desperate, but he couldn't block every incoming sliver. The Senbonzakura Kageyoshi technique sliced from every direction.
"There's too many of them! Stop!" Orochi screamed, his bulging eyes filled with fear. "I… I won't die!!!"
With a violent hiss, his form contorted and expanded, transforming into the monstrous Yamata no Orochi, the mythical eight-headed serpent of Wano.
Each serpent head bore a will of its own. The central one retained Orochi's own twisted features, while the others resembled draconic, serpent-like offshoots of his main body.
Chi! Chi! Chi!
Blood sprayed from his scaled torso with every slashing petal. Though his mythical Zoan fruit boosted his durability and gave him multiple lives—one per head—he was still being overwhelmed.
Carl, calmly observing from a distance, narrowed his eyes. "Aren't you supposed to have eight lives?" he muttered, tapping his chin. "Your transformation looks half-baked. Guess your fruit's potential was never fully realized."
But it didn't matter. Orochi had revealed his final form. And Carl had decided—he would end it here.
"Ku… Kuangshilang! Save me!!" Orochi shrieked, his voice trembling with panic. The fear of being prey, pierced and bled dry, surged through him. For all his arrogance and cruelty, he was a coward when cornered.
"I know!" Denjiro—still masked and acting under his alias Kuangshilang—gritted his teeth. He slashed desperately, cutting through the sky full of petals, trying to carve out a safe space.
"Give me another sword! I can't protect him like this!"
Though Denjiro typically wielded only one blade to mask his true identity, his real strength came from the Nitoryu, the two-sword style once used by Kozuki Oden.
"I see!" Orochi shouted toward a nearby guard. "What are you waiting for? Give him another sword!"
The guard hesitated, torn by fear and loyalty. But eventually relented. "Y-Yes, my lord!"
A long sword flew through the air. Denjiro caught it, exhaled deeply, and stood tall.
Now dual-wielding, the warrior assumed a familiar, powerful stance. Sword aura surged around him.
"Twin Dragon Blaze!" he roared.
Countless slashes burst from his twin blades. A path was carved through the air, cutting away Carl's flower blades like a storm. The corridor cleared, Denjiro barked, "Now, Orochi!"
"Right!" The massive Yamata no Orochi lunged forward, slithering toward the exit—
But then, someone stepped into his path.
"You…!" Orochi's eight snake heads simultaneously froze.
Carl stood calmly, sword in hand, crimson light glowing from his right eye.
"I didn't care if you lived or died," he said, his tone chillingly even. "But you've made too much noise. You're in my way."
Kurozumi Orochi snarled, baring rows of venomous fangs. "You dare—?! I'm a descendant of the Shogun bloodline!"
Carl raised his blade, Sakura Ten, as the air around them thickened with killing intent. The aura of death itself pinned Orochi's hulking form to the spot.
"You're just a parasite clinging to power," Carl said coldly. "Let me end your cursed legacy."
"Slash Wave!"
Hiisssss!
Orochi thrashed violently, his eight heads roaring in unison. But the gravity of the moment froze him.
Fwoosh—!
A black-gold crescent of power tore through space, slicing reality like parchment. The wave cleaved directly through Orochi's center.
Fsssh!
The central head—the one bearing his true consciousness—was severed cleanly from his body, blood trailing in the sky like falling stars.
For a moment, silence reigned.
The Yamata no Orochi's body collapsed, the remaining heads lifeless.
Denjiro stood frozen, sword limp in his hand.
For twenty years, he had dreamed of vengeance—of seeing Orochi's blood spilled at the appointed time, as prophesied. But now… it had ended like this. Unexpected. Merciless. Efficient.
In the center of the courtyard, Issho (Fujitora) slowly sheathed his blade into the earth. His voice was low and steady.
"Thank you, Vice Admiral Carl. I appreciate your assistance."
Carl raised an eyebrow and muttered, "Damn right you should be thankful… If it weren't for you dragging me into this mess…"
But instead of arguing further, Carl waved his hand dismissively. "Forget it. Let's finish up the rest."
"Indeed," Fujitora nodded, a serene smile on his face—but purple gravitational waves were already swirling from his hand.
In the distance, King the Wildfire, one of Kaido's All-Stars, narrowed his eyes. He immediately sensed danger and launched himself backward.
Boom!
A massive portion of the ground buckled and shattered under Fujitora's gravity manipulation. The pressure dropped instantly in a wide radius, flattening buildings and snapping trees.
King hit the ground hard but rolled away instinctively. His speed was impressive—even under altered gravity, he moved with the agility expected of a Lunarian.
Carl didn't move from his position. With calm composure, he raised his hand, thumb, index, and pinky fingers outstretched.
"Domain Expansion—Master Cook of the Demon."
A pulse of spiritual energy spread out.
Behind Carl, a sinister shrine manifested—a terrifying structure of ancient stone, with four giant mouths forming its gate. A suffocating aura enveloped the battlefield. This wasn't just swordsmanship anymore—it was something far beyond.
Even King, hardened and monstrous as he was, felt a shiver crawl up his spine.
This is…" Fujitora paused, his smile fading into a frown.
His Kenbunshoku Haki (Observation Haki) could only perceive a terrifying convergence of energy forming in the distance. Yet, the nature of the technique eluded him.
Carl raised his right hand and pointed toward the crumbling ruins. "[Solution]."
Shhkk—
No visual indication. No aura flare. Just silence.
Then suddenly, a violent shockwave swept through the battlefield as deep, sharp gouges split the ruins apart with surgical precision—carved by invisible blades.
SKREEEEEE—!
A shrill screech echoed across the wasteland.
Emerging from the rubble, King the Wildfire, now in full Pteranodon form, beat his giant wings furiously. In his claws, he carried the unconscious and battered body of Jack the Drought. Deep, bloody gashes ran down King's armored back, fresh from Carl's [Extreme Ghost Sword Art].
"Trying to retreat?" Fujitora murmured, lifting his staff-sword as violet gravitational smoke curled around him.
In a heartbeat, the gravitational pull in the air shifted, trying to crush King out of the sky. But even with Fujitora manipulating the field, King's aerial speed and Zoan resilience allowed him to narrowly avoid the force zone.
"I'll handle this, bro," Carl said, patting Fujitora lightly on the shoulder.
"…Alright," Fujitora replied, easing off and resting his blade against the cracked ground.
Carl's eyes narrowed. He brought his index and middle fingers together, channeling power into a precise directional slash.
"[八・Hachi]."
His stamina surged as compressed sword energy erupted beneath his feet—
BOOM!
The blast shattered the ground as the slash burst upward, slicing through clouds and fracturing the sky with vacuum-sealed force.
"…Not as intense as back on Cake Island," Carl muttered, winded but still composed.
Back then, he had used [摌]to kill Big Mom—Charlotte Linlin—in a moment that nearly emptied his Haki reserves. But here, dealing with King, the output required was far less demanding. He still had fuel in the tank.
In comparison, the Cake Island battle had drained him so deeply that even if Perospero or Daifuku had arrived afterward, he'd have been forced to retreat.
High above the battlefield—
King's heart skipped a beat.
He looked down.
The slash had already ripped the sky open and was screaming toward him like a meteor. He instantly realized—
No escape.
It was too fast. Too precise.
His gaze dropped to the unconscious Jack.
"…No choice."
He released his claws.
Jack's massive mammoth hybrid body plummeted straight into the oncoming slash.
SCOFFF—!
It cut through Jack's body like butter. The slash erased him—flesh, bones, and will—into ash.
But in that instant, King used the sacrifice to veer away at maximum speed, flames trailing behind him.
"…He escaped," Fujitora sighed, closing his unseeing eyes as his haki sensed King's aura fleeing at breakneck speed.
Carl gave a half-smile. "He's one of Kaido's top men, alright. Ruthless, efficient. That kind of decisive thinking… you don't get to be a calamity without it."
Had King hesitated, even for a second, Carl's [八] would've cleaved through both of them.
"Well, at least we got something out of it," Carl said, casually pulling out a cigar box and offering one to Fujitora. "Try this, bro."
Fujitora accepted it with a light nod, lighting the tip with gravity-ignited flint. "To cut down such darkness today… I owe you a favor, Carl. Should the need arise, I'll stand beside you."
Carl waved him off. "No need for promises between brothers."
But in truth, the events of the day had shaken Wano to its core.
More than half of the Tobi Roppo were dead—X Drake among the few survivors, still in deep cover.
Jack the Drought, one of the All-Stars of the Beasts Pirates and a man with a billion-berry bounty, was gone—disintegrated by a single slash.
Ironically, the most durable man died the most decisively.
Even Kurozumi Orochi, the puppet shogun of Wano, had been executed.
The war record was staggering. If Kaido returned, even he might falter at the sight of what had transpired.
After all, he left home for a short while… only to have it stolen.
Carl lit his own cigar and exhaled a puff of smoke. His gaze drifted toward the silent figure nearby.
It was no longer the stooge "Kuroshio" from before.
It was Denjiro, retainer of the Kozuki clan, sitting on the ground and staring up at the broken sky.
What he was thinking in that moment—only he knew.
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