This man's willpower is made of iron or what?!
Yasuo stared at the three-sword-style swordsman bathed in blood before him, swallowing hard. His eyes, once calm as still water, now betrayed panic, and even the hand gripping his sword had begun to tremble faintly.
His heart was in turmoil.
Zoro just stood there quietly, his body covered in countless large and small wounds, swaying as if a strong gust of wind could knock him flat.
Having endured several strikes from the Gale Swordsman's Gale Severing Slash, Zoro had vaguely grasped the principle behind his opponent's ultimate technique.
It was very similar to that Captain Kuro's ultimate move, the Shakushi—attacking the enemy while moving at high speed. But compared to Shakushi, Yasuo could not only clearly see his target but also moved and attacked at speeds at least twice as fast.
How could a man worthy of being called a swordsman be anything less than extraordinary?
"Damn it, if only my eyes could keep up with his movements…" Zoro panted weakly, the thought rising in his mind once again.
When a person loses 1500 milliliters of blood, symptoms like dizziness and nausea appear. The green-haired swordsman had far exceeded that limit; it was a miracle he was still standing.
Zoro's gaze grew unfocused, and for some reason, his mind drifted back to his childhood days training at the dojo.
"Zoro, do you know?" Koushirou knelt in the center of the dojo, speaking kindly.
"A skilled swordsman has three eyes."
"Three eyes?" Young Zoro, with his tiger-like head and bewildered expression, looked up at his master in confusion.
"Yes, three eyes."
Koushirou gazed at his most promising disciple, his eyes narrowing into slits behind his glasses as he spoke slowly: "Two are flesh eyes. The third is the mind's eye, formed when a swordsman hones their intuition to its utmost limit."
"The mind's eye?"
"Mhm, the eye of the heart." Koushirou nodded. "The mind's eye can see what the flesh eyes cannot. As a swordsman, if you trust your instincts and feel with your heart, then…"
He let out a hearty laugh. "Well, it's a bit early to talk about this now. I believe in you. When you grow up and wield your sword more, you'll naturally master the mind's eye."
"Hmph, of course…" Young Zoro, hearing his master's words, didn't press further. He glanced at the Wado Ichimonji resting beside him and flashed a supremely confident grin.
"I'm going to become the world's greatest swordsman!"
…
"The mind's eye… huh…"
Zoro exhaled a breath thick with the metallic tang of blood, murmuring so softly only he could hear.
At that moment, Yasuo suddenly roared at Zoro: "You brute who only knows how to swing your strength around—why won't you just die already?!"
In a duel between swordsmen, the most crucial thing is to maintain a calm sword heart. Blades have no eyes; without calm judgment, defeat is not far off.
But Yasuo had already been thrown into disarray by this beast-like opponent. So, he decided to end the fight quickly.
"Let me carve you up alive!" Yasuo raised his dual blades high, his face twisted with ruthless intent.
(The mind's eye…) Zoro's taut muscles gradually relaxed, the tips of his swords pointing diagonally downward.
—Gale Severing Slash!
Whoosh! Yasuo's figure vanished into thin air once more.
(…Evolved from a swordsman's intuition…) His proud head slowly lowered, his eyes beginning to lose focus.
He's given up resisting! "Zoro!" Usopp and Nami cried out in unison, watching the green-haired swordsman in their eyes—
"Die!!" Yasuo let out a low growl, a sword flash streaking like a meteor toward Zoro's neck.
(…Trust your heart, trust…)
A gentle breeze stirred, rustling the surrounding leaves and grass.
As if swayed by the wind, Zoro's body suddenly tilted to the side without warning, narrowly dodging the thunderous strike.
"What?! He dodged it!" Yasuo's heart jolted, a sudden sense of dread creeping in. But he refused to believe it. He retracted his blade and slashed down fiercely once more.
Zoro's left hand shot up, wrist flicking upward. The sharp edge of Third Generation Kitetsu clashed with Yasuo's long sword in midair, sparks flying as Zoro swung with force, deflecting the second attack.
(I see you!!) In that instant, Yasuo felt as if a cold-eyed beast had locked onto him, his movements revealing several openings.
Strike while he's weak—finish him!
The green-haired swordsman lifted his head slightly, meeting Yasuo's ghost-pale expression with a grin—his signature wicked smirk. Then, with all his strength, he swung his three blades toward Yasuo in a relentless barrage, the continuous strikes crashing like waves, endless and unyielding. This was Zoro's three-sword-style swordsmanship, honed over years of grueling training.
—Three-Sword Style: Autumn Wind Sweeping Fallen Leaves!
In a flash of lightning and flint, the tide of battle turned!
Yasuo was stunned by Zoro's storm-like onslaught! The airflow from the blades stung his ordinary face raw. He couldn't fathom how this green-haired swordsman had suddenly started reading his sword techniques.
With his rhythm completely shattered, Yasuo's lack of raw power began to show its fatal flaw.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Amid a series of blade clashes, Yasuo's sword hand trembled unnaturally. Against Zoro's monstrous strength, this speed-focused Gale Swordsman could barely keep a grip on his weapon.
—Two-Gang Force Slash!
Clang! Yasuo's long sword flew from his grasp, spinning through the air before embedding straight into the distant ground.
Yasuo hastily retreated, staring in shock at his still-shaking hand, then at the man before him who looked like a demon from hell. A look of resignation crossed his face.
"I have to admit… you're stronger now!"
Zoro threw his arms back, sheathing two swords behind his back, then charged at the defenseless Yasuo like a starving tiger descending the mountain.
—Three-Sword Style: Tiger Hunt!
Three brilliant sword lights flashed.
Spurt~
With a spray of blood, Yasuo's body collapsed with a thunderous crash under Nami and Usopp's astonished and joyful gazes.
The victor was decided!
"Thanks," Zoro muttered, acknowledging his worthy opponent, before his strength finally gave out. He toppled forward stiffly.
Nami and Usopp cried out in alarm, thinking Zoro had perished alongside his enemy. But when they rushed forward, what they heard was the green-haired swordsman's loud snoring.
The two exchanged speechless glances…
On the other battlefield.
The sorcerer was leading Haska in circles.
Sherlock ran fast, and his stamina was exceptional. Back when he was stranded on that isolated island, he could chase amphibious Sea Kings all over it. The current scene was eerily similar—earth-shaking footsteps, sand and stones flying everywhere. Only now, Sherlock had gone from pursuer to pursued.
"This bastard runs pretty damn fast…" Haska wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, using his long spear to sweep aside obstructing rocks as he cursed under his breath.
In any other place, Haska—driven to extreme excitement by pain and blood—should have caught Sherlock quickly. But this was a primitive jungle utterly unfamiliar to this masochistic freak. The terrain was complex, and Sherlock's high-explosive bombs and greatsword kept harassing him, driving him to frustration.
Strike while the iron is hot; falter on the second, exhaust on the third.
In a head-on fight where both sides threw caution to the wind, Haska feared no one. He could ignore pain and even draw strength from it. But Sherlock's kite-like tactics struck right at his weakness.
The chase dragged on for quite a while. Gradually, the excitement in Haska's heart began to fade. His body grew stiff, a numb sensation pulsing from the fracture in his left arm, and his movement speed slowly decreased.
"It looks like his frenzied state is starting to wear off…"
Sherlock, having observed every change, felt a surge of joy. After a moment's thought, he used several high-explosive bombs to topple towering trees behind him, blocking Haska's pursuit. The latter decisively swept the fallen trunks aside with a single spear thrust.
Watching the still-sharp spearwork, Sherlock silently shook his head.
"No good. His attacks are still too strong. I need to drag this out a bit longer."
So, Sherlock gradually slowed his pace while tossing out even more high-explosive bombs.
Cough cough… "This bastard's finally running out of steam, huh?" Amid the smoke and dust, Haska coughed a few times, revealing a bloodthirsty grin.
Sherlock multitasked: calculating the optimal escape route ahead, manipulating bomb mirrors to hinder Haska's advance, and closely monitoring the force Haska used to clear obstacles, analyzing his current attack potency…
After a long while.
Sherlock suddenly stopped running. He stood in place, turning to face the rapidly approaching Haska. With utmost calm, he adjusted his glasses and secretly prepared his trump card.
Seeing his prey finally stop fleeing, Haska's eyes blazed red once more. He gripped his beloved spear tightly with his right hand, murderous intent rolling off him in waves. The blood-colored long spear seemed to sense its master's will, its crimson glow flickering unpredictably.
"Die!" Haska roared, his entire body streaking forward like a bolt of blood-red lightning. In an instant, he closed the distance between them, the blood spear thrusting with a teeth-grating screech toward the man who had killed his brother.
—Spear Technique: Heart Crusher!
Sherlock, fully prepared, slowly raised his hand. The air before him rippled with those familiar waves—but this time, the fluctuations were far more intense.
—Quadruple Mirror Counter!
The distance between the spear tip and the Quadruple Mirror Counter vanished in a blink.
Crack~ That familiar crisp shattering sound rang out once more.
Damage exceeding the mirror counter's limit rebounded onto Sherlock like a punch from across the mountain. His face turned deathly pale as he collapsed in agony, a sweet taste rising in his throat before he spat out a mouthful of blood. But he had no time to check his injuries. He hurriedly looked up ahead.
Unlike a standard mirror counter, Quadruple Mirror Counter judged a single attack four times. So, if Sherlock took a 101-point damage attack, his own body would suffer 4 points, while the reflected damage soared to 400 points!
This move required preparation time and was a double-edged sword against powerful foes, which was why Sherlock had avoided direct confrontation, waiting until Haska's attacks weakened before unleashing it.
A single reflection had been enough to fracture Haska's left arm and gravely wound him. This quadruple reflection…
Haska flew backward like a ragged doll, his body twisted into a grotesquely unnatural shape. Shattered organs sprayed blood in all directions, and several bone fragments—still warm—shot out under the immense force.
This could no longer be called a person. It was a "twisted pretzel" made of human remains.
Blood Wolf, Kohler Haska—the great pirate with a 75 million berry bounty—died just like that, without even a scream.
Killed by his own reflected force.
Sherlock staggered over to where Haska had landed. Staring at the utterly abstract corpse, a look of disgust crossed his pale face.
"Disgusting…" Feeling nauseous, he turned his head away, his gaze landing on the blood-colored long spear stuck nearby. He frowned in puzzlement.
Mirror counter damage returned to its source. Haska's final attack had used every muscle in his body. So, the quadruple-reflected force should have ravaged his muscles, bones, and organs beyond endurance.
Logically, the weapon—bearing the brunt—should have been the first to suffer the backlash. Yet this blood-colored long spear…
"Could this spear be some kind of treasure?" Sherlock marveled as he examined the unscathed weapon in his hand. After a moment's thought, he stored the blood spear in his mirror space.
"If only I had a strong enough offensive move of my own." Sherlock shook his head. After all, he couldn't just be a punching bag, letting others beat him and relying solely on mirror counters to kill his enemies.
Moreover, Sherlock himself wasn't particularly durable. The enemy might not die from the reflection before he got beaten to death first.
"Anyway, I need to find Luffy and the others. Their captain's dead, but there are still the other crew members."
With that, Sherlock scanned his surroundings, got his bearings, and laboriously left the blood-soaked area.
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