Sanji's chest still rose and fell with lingering fury, the embers of his anger burning in every breath he exhaled. But the moment he felt the battlefield tremble with a new surge of sword pressure from the castle plaza, he flicked away a trail of smoke and lifted his head sharply.
That oppressive aura…
That was Zoro.
He turned toward the source of the ringing steel and saw two figures clashing in the ruined courtyard shadows that collided and separated with impossible speed, each impact sparking a tempest of force.
Zoro and the bandaged samurai.
The once-majestic plaza had been obliterated. Rubble blanketed the ground, scorched trenches carved the earth, and deep sword gouges crossed one another like scars left behind from ancient battles.
"Ding! Clang! Kshing!"
The eerie music of steel filled the air.
Zoro's silhouette blurred with every movement, and the samurai Ryoma's corpse, animated by a stolen shadow met him strike for strike. There was nothing clumsy or dull about that corpse's swordsmanship. Every swing of his black blade was sharp, deliberate, forged from centuries of pure killing intent.
Zoro landed, skidding back a few paces after a heavy impact.
He narrowed his eyes.
"Yeah… you're strong."
Strong wasn't even the right word.
This undead swordsman fought with a purity that only a true master could possess someone who had lived and died by the sword.
Ryoma lifted the pitch-black katana in his hand Shusui, one of the Great Grade blades pointing it toward the ground. The movement was simple, but the pressure radiating from him was chilling, as if death itself breathed out from his stance.
A thin, rasping voice seeped from his unmoving lips.
"Nose Song Triple Notes… Arrow Notch Slash."
He vanished.
Not a step.
Not a flicker.
He simply ceased to exist from the space he once occupied.
Zoro's senses sharpened instantly.
"You're a worthy opponent," he muttered under his breath, "so I'll send you off with everything I've got."
He placed Wado Ichimonji back into its sheath.
His left hand gripped the scabbard.
His right hand hovered over the hilt, fingers relaxed but ready to snap.
His stance became still. Perfectly still.
He remembered the sight of Renn Hawk the overwhelming power in his brother's fists, the unbreakable Armament coating that looked as if it could even crush the heavens. That memory became the spark that ignited Zoro's focus.
Ink-black Armament coursed over his arm.
It flowed across the hilt of his sword, over the sheath, and swallowed the blade entirely in a darkness deeper than the night sky.
Ryoma seemed to sense it.
A hoarse, ancient whine came from Shusui as if the blade itself responded to the pressure of another warrior's will.
Zoro lowered his voice.
"One Sword Style… Secret Technique… Black Blade Six Forms… Instant Hell Kill."
He drew.
No sound. No flash.
Zoro did not move fast.
He simply removed himself from the world for a heartbeat.
And reappeared behind Ryoma, as if space had folded around him.
Time froze.
Then
"Crack…"
A faint tearing sound whispered through the battlefield.
The bandages wrapped around Ryoma's torso split apart, revealing rotted skin beneath. There was no wound. No spray of blood.
But everything inside him his shadow, his core, the dark energy binding him shattered under Zoro's strike.
A blurred shape of pure darkness was forced out of the samurai's body and dissolved in the air like smoke touched by sunlight.
Without a shadow to animate it, Ryoma's body trembled.
Slowly almost reverently he turned to face Zoro.
There was no flesh behind his empty sockets, no pupils, no expression.
But in that hollow gaze, Zoro felt it:
The samurai was smiling.
"Clang…"
Shusui fell from his lifeless hand and struck the ground, the sound echoing like the final toll of a temple bell.
Ryoma's form loosened, crumbled…
and then drifted away as dust carried by the wind.
A faint whisper lingered in the air whether it came from Ryoma's fading consciousness or simply the wind itself, no one could say.
"Shusui… I leave it to you…"
Zoro exhaled slowly.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on the fallen black blade. As he gripped its hilt, he felt a subtle pulse like a sword recognizing its new master.
But before he could savor the moment
BOOM!
The entire island shuddered, and a distant roar thundered across the battlefield.
Sanji landed beside him with a cigarette dangling from his lips.
"Tch. Took you long enough, moss-head."
Zoro didn't look at him.
"You finished off that invisible creep?"
Sanji blew out a puff of smoke.
"Burned him until he stopped making noise."
Zoro snorted.
"Figures. You get sentimental over a fruit you'll never eat."
Sanji's eyebrow twitched dangerously.
"You wanna say that again?"
But neither had the luxury to argue.
Because far beyond them, deeper into the heart of Thriller Bark
Oars had awakened.
The island-sized monstrosity roared again, its voice a booming shockwave that shredded the mist overhead.
And somewhere above, Renn Hawk observed quietly, arms crossed, gaze calm and unshaken.
The real battle had only just begun.
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