Watching Nika trample the zombie army, Moria felt no pity whatsoever.
Ordinary zombies—he could get as many as he wanted.
He didn't even care about the zombie generals.
Right now, Moria desperately wanted this giant's shadow.
It would be a perfect match for Oars!
Spotting Nika with her back to him, clearing out a group of zombies, Moria's massive form moved like a ghost. Using the cover of shadows, he silently crept beneath Nika's enormous silhouette.
"Shadow Box!"
Moria pressed his hands together. Nika's own shadow beneath her feet suddenly solidified into a black box, briefly trapping her giant foot.
"What's going on?" Nika sobered slightly.
Now.
"Shadow Mage!"
Moria summoned his shadow clone, which climbed up Nika's back with the agility of paper cutouts.
Sensing something wrong, Nika tried to turn—but Moria's main body had already appeared beside her massive head, his enormous scissors gleaming.
"Kishishi! I'll take your shadow!"
"What?!"
Snap!
With Moria's twisted laugh and the crisp sound of scissors closing, the giant shadow connecting Nika's body was severed.
The colossal white tanuki shuddered violently. Its massive frame, as if losing all support, crashed forward, collapsing half a building before reverting to its original form—eyes rolled back, unconscious.
"Success! Kishishi!"
Moria clutched the massive, solid shadow in his hands, ecstatic. "Straw Hat, you bastards just wait. The strongest zombie is about to be born! Kishihihihi…"
Ignoring the other battlefields, his shadow clone carried Nika's shadow to the deepest part of the castle.
After waiting so long for a suitable shadow, Moria was overjoyed.
—
The battle in the plaza didn't stop because of this sudden development.
Nika's shadow was taken? So what? Brook had lost his shadow and was still alive.
Zoro's duel with Ryuma had reached its peak.
"Yohoho. You want to take the black blade Shusui from me?" Ryuma looked at the green-haired swordsman before him.
"More accurately, I'll take the sword lying beside your corpse." Zoro grinned. "Such a famous blade is wasted on a dead man."
No swordsman could see a famous blade without wanting it.
The black blade in Ryuma's hand rivaled even his own Wado Ichimonji.
"I see. Bold words. But you're carrying three fine swords yourself." Ryuma said.
"The more good blades, the better. I'm a three-sword style user."
"Acrobatics?"
"Try me. I'll cut you down."
Ryuma held the young swordsman in high regard. It was like facing some wild beast—his body was already beginning to dance.
Three-Sword Style: Ox Demon!
Zoro, like a violent phantom, swung his three blades in dazzling patterns, launching a fierce assault on Ryuma.
Ryuma wielded Shusui with calm, masterful swordsmanship, blocking each strike.
The moment they clashed, the surrounding air exploded. Several zombies that had just approached were blown away.
Then, the ground shattered.
Such was the terrifying destructive power of swordsmen.
"Your slashes can produce sword energy now?"
"Not bad yourself."
Zoro's legs bent slightly, then launched him forward—vanishing from sight as he skimmed the ground, leaving behind cracked earth like a spider's web.
Ryuma leaped into the air, gripping Shusui with both hands as he descended.
Boom!
The powerful wind pressure swept the area again.
A zombie general who had just drawn near was sliced to pieces.
"These two are too terrifying!" The zombies retreated in fear.
No one dared approach their battlefield.
"The legendary body and spirit of a great swordsman—truly no exaggeration."
After their clash, Zoro and Ryuma separated. He glanced at his sword—after colliding with Shusui, it felt like it was about to break.
Even with Armament Haki minimizing wear…
Both fell silent.
"A swordsman's soul lies in the conviction to cut through anything." Ryuma charged forward, Shusui arcing upward. "Dragon Slash!"
"One-Sword Style: Flying Dragon!"
Zoro leaped. Behind him in the sky, sword energy coalesced into a dragon. "Then cut this path of mine!"
The moment they clashed, Zoro twisted his hand. "Flame!"
A blazing flying slash roared forth.
After the impact, Zoro fell from the sky.
Blue flames visibly appeared on Ryuma's body. He turned to look at Zoro in the distance. "Your swords are fast, sharp—but lack weight. You've never cut anything truly tough. Never carried anything heavy."
"The legendary blade Shusui once belonged to a samurai. For you to become its master… that may be this sword's wish as well."
"Consider it my apology to your blade."
Zoro looked silently at Yubashiri in his hand. With a soft crack, the blade split.
Sorry to the shopkeeper in Loguetown who gave me this sword.
But for Yubashiri to find its final resting place in a battle like this—wasn't that an honor?
"A samurai from Wano Country?"
Zoro carefully sheathed Yubashiri and Shusui.
One day, I'll go there.
—
On the other side, Sanji's battle with Captain John was growing increasingly perilous.
Despite his lazy demeanor, Captain John was a veteran fighter. His twin-sword style was unpredictable—sometimes striking like a viper, sometimes raging like a storm. The blades embedded in his body didn't hinder his movements; instead, they served as distractions.
"Geppō!"
He finally used the technique he'd learned. Geppō was perfect for Sanji, whose fighting style centered on kicks. Using aerial footwork, he constantly changed positions, searching for openings.
"Try my Diable Jambe, bastard!"
Sanji's leg turned visibly crimson.
"Fuhehe. Flashy."
Captain John twirled his blades, charging forward while shifting his footwork eerily, closing the distance in an instant. "Kid, you rely too much on your legs!"
His twin blades crossed like scissors, slicing toward Sanji's waist!
Sanji's pupils contracted. At the last possible moment, he planted his hands on the ground, legs spinning upward like a tornado.
"Diable Jambe: Fried Assortment Platter!"
His flame-wreathed feet clashed violently with the two cold blades.
Boom!
A shockwave rolled outward. Both combatants recoiled.
Captain John looked at the faint scorch marks on his blades. His bleary eyes, for the first time, showed a hint of seriousness.
"Fuhehe. Interesting. To reach this level in pure body techniques… you remind me of an old bastard I'd rather forget."
The man John spoke of wasn't "Black Leg."
It was "Iron Fist."
***
Dive deeper into the story with 30+ advance chapters, available now on Patreon!
patreon.com/CNBLUE
If you're enjoying the novel, please consider leaving a review. Your support is crucial and helps the story grow immensely. Thank you!