The pressure radiating from Dracule Mihawk in this state was simply too imnse. Zoro knew that if he didn't act imdiately, he would be completely crushed by the sheer weight of the man's sword aura.
Three blades out, a cold gleam erupted. The air itself seed to be sliced apart.
Zoro was powerful. Even as a young boy without formal training, he had been able to defeat the adults in his village. Now, after years of training under Koshiro at the Isshin Dojo, he had grown exponentially stronger. Coupled with a natural talent for swordsmanship that surpassed common n, he was a rarity; at seventeen, he had already run out of worthy opponents in the East Blue.
Normally, a strike of this magnitude would force anyone to retreat. Unfortunately, his opponent today was no ordinary man. It was the reigning World's Greatest Swordsman, Dracule Mihawk.
Clang!
The sound of clashing steel rang out, and the spectators' eyes widened in disbelief. Zoro's technique had been stopped cold! It wasn't just one of his blades—all three had been blocked simultaneously! Mihawk's Black Blade had found the exact intersection where the three swords t. It looked simple, but the timing required was sothing an ordinary master could never hope to grasp.
"I... I can't move..."
Zoro's face paled. Ti seed to freeze as cold sweat dripped from his forehead. In this mont, he felt as if he were being completely seen through by the man before him.
Zoro's philosophy of the sword was that the more weapons one used, the greater the lethality. Two blades were far more dangerous than one, but because they offered more variables, they were infinitely harder to master. Three-Sword Style was sothing no one had ever successfully practiced before; compared to Two-Sword Style, the difficulty rose exponentially. Yet, Zoro had chosen it decisively and mastered it to a high degree.
In the past, every opponent Zoro faced felt as if they were fighting three master swordsn at once. Even if they blocked one or two strikes, the third would inevitably find its mark. The endless variations of the Three-Sword Style left his enemies in a state of frantic disarray.
But right now, the Black Blade in Mihawk's hand felt as if it possessed a terrifying magnetic force, locking his three swords in place and rendering him immobile.
"That uncle with the black sword looks really strong," Luffy marveled.
"The gap in strength... it's a bit too large," Tashigi sighed from the sidelines.
Rowan exhaled a thin trail of smoke and smiled. "Only by realizing the gap can one begin to chase. Making a na for oneself in the East Blue alone serves little purpose; after all, the sea is far vaster than just this region."
Shhh-shhh!
Zoro was sent skidding backward, blood seeping from his body. The sweat on his brow grew thicker, and his fra trembled slightly—whether from tension or pain, it was hard to tell. A long, jagged gash on his right arm was bleeding profusely, quickly staining his sleeve crimson.
"So strong!" Zoro's heart hamred against his ribs. A single exchange had made him realize the staggering distance between himself and the peak of the world. Had Mihawk not restricted his power, Zoro likely would have died in that first clash.
Yet, despite holding back his strength, Mihawk did not go easy on him. This was his respect for every opponent he faced!
As Zoro was sent flying, Mihawk followed up instantly. Even with restricted power, his mastery of the sword was leagues beyond Zoro's.
Slash! Slash!
Two flashes of sword-light followed, and Zoro was sent reeling once more. This ti, two fresh wounds appeared on his chest, blood welling up. Mihawk did not pursue him further. His expression remained calm. "Young swordsman, show your true strength. Otherwise, you won't get another chance!"
Hearing this, Zoro struggled to his feet. The mouth gripping the Wado Ichimonji slowly spread into a fierce grin. He reached up, untied the dark green bandana from his left arm, and tied it firmly around his head.
Zoro's gaze sharpened into lethal points. He raised his weapons, positioning the two blades in his hands and the one in his mouth into a precise triangular formation. At this mont, Zoro's aura transford into that of an unsheathed blade. Sharp. Defiant.
The next move would be the strongest technique he had ever conceptualized.
"Three-Sword Style Secret Technique: Three Thousand Worlds!"
The blades began to dance in Zoro's hands, whipping up a localized gale of steel within the small plaza. In the next heartbeat, Zoro turned into a living projectile of blades, charging straight at Mihawk.
In the blink of an eye, the two crossed paths. Their movents stopped.
Thud!
Zoro's face turned deathly pale. He dropped to one knee, using his sword to prop himself up. A crimson flower of blood blood across his chest, staining the paving stones beneath him. The sword in his left hand fell limply, and even the Wado Ichimonji in his mouth began to slip.
"Is it... over?" "That was too fast." "It was a complete one-sided slaughter. Did Mihawk really hold back?" "The World's Greatest Swordsman... truly terrifying!"
Ignoring the murmurs of the crowd, Mihawk looked at the exhausted Zoro, his voice still steady. "Young swordsman, you should know the price of losing a duel, shouldn't you?"
Cough, cough...
Zoro coughed, blood spilling uncontrollably from his lips. Yet, he managed to stand up with agonizing effort, slowly sheathing the Wado Ichimonji and looking Mihawk in the eye with unshakable resolve.
"Of course. It's nothing more than death. Since I couldn't beco the strongest, dying by the hand of the strongest isn't a bad end. I've already made my resolve!"
As he spoke, a determined smile spread across his face. There was no fear, even in the face of his imminent demise.
Looking at the young man opening his arms wide to receive the final blow, Mihawk's eyebrow quirked. "And what is the aning of this?"
Zoro laughed through the blood. "Scars on the back are a swordsman's sha!"
"Excellent!" Mihawk praised. "State your na, young powerhouse!"
"Zoro! Roronoa Zoro!"
"I shall rember that na!" Mihawk declared. Simultaneously, his Black Blade swung down ruthlessly toward Zoro's chest.
Zoro's smile vanished. He simply closed his eyes to welco the end.
But then...
Clang!
A crisp, tallic ring echoed. The expected pain never ca. Zoro opened his eyes in confusion. Before him stood a sturdy back clad in a casual shirt. The shock of white hair was unmistakable.
The man had casually blocked Mihawk's executioner's strike using nothing but his tobacco pipe.
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