Luffy walked at the front, calm yet commanding, his straw hat shading his eyes. Zoro was on his right, hands tucked loosely in his pockets, the tension in his shoulders enough to warn anyone who dared approach. Usopp stayed slightly behind, sling loaded and ready, scanning every movement.
They moved deliberately, not rushing, not panicking—just walking as if it were any other day. The wind carried the distant shouts of pirates, but Luffy's confidence made it seem irrelevant.
On the shore, they finally came face-to-face with the intruders. A man in a black suit stood like a general commanding his troops. His subordinates flanked him—each one distinct:
Janggo, the hypnotist, with a sly grin and eyes that glinted unnaturally.
Marianne, tall and agile, twin daggers glinting in the sunlight.
Gleam, muscular, his arms wrapped with chains ready to swing like whips.
The man in black's face was mostly shadowed; only his cold smile showed. He adjusted his glasses, and the subtle menace in his posture made clear he was no ordinary foe.
Luffy's laugh broke the tension. "Hahaha! So you're Kuro, huh?" He slammed his left fist into his right palm, anticipation gleaming in his eyes. "I want your captain!"
Zoro's eyes narrowed. His hand went to the hilt of his katana, fingers brushing the leather. Usopp adjusted his sling, targeting carefully.
Kuro's laugh cut through the air, deep and taunting. "Three of you? Hahaha! Go home if you want to play heroes…"
Before Kuro could continue, Usopp struck. "Eat this!" A marble-like projectile shot from his sling, striking Janggo square in the eyes. The hypnotist screamed, blood streaming down his face, writhing as his control slipped.
Zoro drew both swords in a fluid motion, the sunlight glinting off the blades as he stepped forward. "I'll take care of the rest," he growled.
Luffy smirked, stretching his arms casually. "I'll leave the rest to you, Zoro… Usopp."
"Roger!" came the unified reply.
"Scatter," Luffy ordered, and the battle erupted like a storm.
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"Tsk… disgusting," said Kuro, his eyes narrowing as he gripped his weapon, a sleek black saber that seemed to drink the light around it.
"You better be ready to die!" Kuro growled, stepping forward with his silent step, his movements almost invisible as he approached Luffy.
Luffy grinned wildly, slamming his fist into his other hand. "Ahahahaha! Come on, gomu! Gomu no Pistol!"
Banggggg! His fist shot forward like a cannon, smashing against Kuro's weapon with a resounding clang, the shockwave rippling through the air.
On the other side, Usopp kept his distance, slinging marble-like bullets with unerring precision. "Eat this! Eat this! BANG! BANG!" Each shot found its mark, taking down pirates who dared to charge him.
"Come here, you fucking coward! Come here!" one pirate shouted, charging toward him, but Usopp ducked, rolled, and fired another bullet straight into the attacker's chest. The pirate stumbled, crashing into the ground.
Zoro, meanwhile, was a whirlwind on his side of the battlefield. Pirates swarmed him, but his twin blades moved faster than the eye could follow. Slice—one fell. Slice—another went down. Each movement was precise, a deadly dance. His eyes were like a predator's, scanning for weakness, trusting every strike of his katana.
"Stop… have you already had fun killing ants?" a cold voice hissed.
Zoro's gaze snapped up. There stood Marianne and Gleam, their weapons raised, faces as cold as steel. Zoro didn't speak. He didn't hesitate. With a roar, he rushed forward, the storm of his blades spinning around him like a tornado, unstoppable.
The battlefield shook with the clash of steel, the screams of pirates, and the laughter of a captain who refused to back down.
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Zoro's eyes narrowed as he assessed his two opponents. Gleam and Marianne stood before him, weapons ready, their presences sharp and menacing. He didn't speak—there was no need. Every motion, every thought, was already set on the battlefield.
"Are you mocking me?" Marriane growled, drawing his twin swords. "I'll fucking kill you!"
Zoro didn't flinch. With a sudden, fluid step, he surged forward. Their blades collided in a ringing clanggggg, the sound echoing across the sand and sending a shiver through the air. Sparks danced along the edges of their swords, and for a heartbeat, time seemed suspended—two forces measuring each other, waiting for a flaw.
But Zoro was faster. He shifted his weight, pivoting just in time to avoid Gleam's chained whip that came snapping toward him. The whip cracked against the ground with a deafening bang, splintering the earth beneath it.
Using the momentum, Zoro twisted his body and launched a sweeping Crescent Cut toward Gleam. Marianne's knife intercepted it with a metallic clash, deflecting the strike, but Zoro didn't hesitate. His instincts carried him forward, and he thrust his right leg upward toward Marianne's chin.
Gleam lashed out with his chain whip again, trying to bind his leg, but Zoro had anticipated this. Using the kick's momentum, he spun his body horizontally, three swords forming a deadly vortex of steel.
"Demon Storm Slash!" he growled, his voice low and raspy. He became a tornado of blades, each spin slicing the air with lethal precision. Swooooooshhh… one spin, swooooshhh… two spins, swoooooshhh… three—and then taggggg, a spray of blood erupted like a storm unleashed, coating the ground around him.
As the whirlwind subsided, Zoro landed with perfect balance behind his enemies. Calmly, he sheathed two of his swords at his sides, leaving the third gripped firmly between his teeth. Every movement was deliberate, every breath controlled, his presence a blade itself in the battlefield.
He drew the third sword with a sharp, deliberate motion and swung it downward, the blade cutting through the air with a swirling shing. Gleam and Marianne crumpled to the ground, bloodied and defeated, unable to recover from the precision and ferocity of Zoro's onslaught.
Zoro didn't look back. Slowly, deliberately, he sheathed the last sword, his breathing steady. His eyes, cold and unwavering, scanned the battlefield once more.
"Mission complete," he murmured, the words low but filled with the weight of his mastery.
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To be continued