Chapter 137: The Steel Wall
Alubarna burned with noise and chaos. Drums of war pounded like thunder, and the capital trembled beneath the feet of soldiers charging in blind loyalty. From the rooftops to the cobbled alleys, the desert city had become a war zone.
But not every battle was fought in a crowd.
Zoro stood in the shadow of a sandstone archway, the air dry and hot around him. The cries of rebellion echoed in the distance, but his focus was fixed on the street ahead.
And now he waited.
A dry wind kicked up the dust. Then, footsteps. Measured. Sharp.
From between the crumbling pillars emerged a man like a blade forged into flesh. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Sleeveless trench coat billowing behind him like a war banner. Skin carved in black ink, the number "1" seared onto his chest like a brand. His gaze was level, unreadable. And he was walking straight toward the centre of the city.
Zoro didn't move.
"You're not getting to her."
The man stopped.
"I only need one second to finish her," he said, voice deep and even. "Step aside."
Zoro stepped forward instead.
"You look heavy," he said, drawing the first of his blades. "Bet you drop hard."
Silence. Then steel sang.
Zoro's swords were out in an instant, one low, one high, both angled like fangs. The man across from him didn't draw. He didn't flinch. His eyes scanned Zoro's stance like a machine analyzing a threat.
"You're wasting your life."
"Better than wasting hers," Zoro snapped, and lunged.
He struck with a flurry of movement, his feet pounding the stone as his blades whipped into a rising cross-slash. It was fast—faster than most men could track, but the target barely moved.
CLANG!
Their weapons clashed.
Zoro's eyes flared.
No. That wasn't a sword. The man had blocked him, but his hands were empty.
'The hell?'
Before he could adjust, the man's arm swept in low, a spinning sweep of solid mass that cracked through a sandstone pillar as Zoro vaulted backward to dodge.
The block had felt like steel.
"You're not normal," Zoro muttered, landing light.
The man raised a single hand and flexed the fingers slowly, like sharpening a knife. "Neither are you."
Zoro didn't answer. He spun his blades once, inhaled, and charged again.
This time, he struck from three points, one sword at the shoulder, one near the hip.
He had carved sea kings in half. He had clashed with warlord and admirals before.
But again, the man didn't dodge. Didn't deflect.
He absorbed it.
Sparks exploded as Zoro's blades hit metal. Not armor, flesh. Unmoving. Cold. Hard.
'The hell is he made of?!'
The impact jolted Zoro's arms, sent a sting through his wrists. He twisted, spun mid-air, and brought a downward arc down with enough force to cleave stone.
The man caught the blade with his forearm.
'Caught it.'
And then he struck.
Zoro barely bent back in time, the man's leg kicked out in a sweeping arc, tearing through the stone walkway like paper, sending chunks of the city crashing around them.
Dust exploded.
Zoro leapt to the side, coughing as he landed.
His enemy stepped through the dust cloud without hurry.
"You're not strong enough to stop me," he said simply.
Zoro wiped blood from the corner of his mouth and grinned.
"You haven't seen strong yet."
He dropped low and launched into a spinning horizontal slash, carving a full half-circle across the ground as the stone beneath cracked from sheer pressure. Mr. 1 raised an arm, and again, Zoro's sword rang against metal.
CLANG!
Zoro's feet slid back. His arms trembled.
'No wound. No blood. He's not even dented.'
But the swordsman stood tall.
"I don't need to win," Zoro said under his breath. "I just need to keep you here…"
Behind him, far beyond the smoke and rubble, Vivi kept running, toward the rebels. Toward the hope of stopping the bloodshed.
And Zoro would die before letting this bastard take another step in her direction.
Zoro tightened the grip on his hilts. Sweat slid down the side of his face, caught on the edge of his bandana before dripping down his neck.
This guy wasn't just tough—he wasn't reacting like a human. No flinches. No hesitation. No sign of fatigue.
"Two-Sword Style..." Zoro murmured, stepping low, feet spreading wide into stance.
His breath evened out. One inhale.
His blades crossed, forming a sharp "X" as the sunlight glinted off their edges.
"Tatsu Maki!"
He twisted in a violent spin, blades roaring as they tore through the dry air with circular momentum. The slash didn't just slice, it dragged the wind with it, a spiraling burst of slashing force that chewed through the cracked stone tiles and kicked up chunks in its path.
The attack hit Mr. 1 head-on.
Sparks exploded.
But even as the technique connected, Zoro felt it again—that unnatural resistance. Like slicing into a wall of forged iron. Mr. 1 didn't fly backward. He didn't stagger.
He just stood in it.
Zoro skidded out of the spin and landed on one knee, panting once.
No blood.
Nothing.
Mr. 1 stepped forward, eyes narrow. "That spin won't help you."
Zoro gritted his teeth and forced himself up.
"Don't flatter yourself. I've got more."
He raised both swords again and charged in a blur, launching a flurry of tight, rapid slashes—each strike aimed for vulnerable joints: shoulder, ribs, neck, thighs. A swordsman's rhythm. Feints between the real cuts.
CLANG!
CLANGCLANG!
SKREEEECH, CLANG!
Mr. 1 didn't move like he was dodging. He simply let it hit him. Each blade scraped, sparked, or bounced as if striking a wall of tempered alloy. The bastard didn't even blink.
But Zoro wasn't stopping.
He pivoted, blades flaring outward.
"Nigiri: Toro Giri!" (Double Slash: Tiger Hunt!)
Two heavy vertical slices came crashing down like the jaws of a beast.
CRACK!
Stone shattered where Mr. 1 stood. A visible crater split beneath him. But still, no wound. His coat was torn now, scorched around the shoulders, but the man beneath?
Unharmed.
"You done yet?" he asked.
Zoro's eye twitched.
No... I've got one more.
He spun out of range, boots dragging a half-arc through the dust. His shoulders ached. Arms trembling slightly.
But he wasn't finished.
"Let's see you block this."
His foot slammed down. Both blades raised high—then suddenly brought together, one atop the other, flat to flat.
A tight breath.
"Nigiri: Sai Kuru!" (Double Slash: Rhinoceros Circle!)
A close-range spiral slash, the edges of both swords forming a compressed circle of death. He dashed forward with the full rotation of his body behind it, moving low—like a predator aiming to cut straight through bone and steel alike.
BOOM!
The impact shook the street.
The stone beneath them erupted into dust and shrapnel. Even Mr. 1's trench coat ripped from the pressure as Zoro's blades bit into him.
This time, they didn't just bounce.
They chipped.
A sliver. A faint nick along his left flank. Zoro saw it, a speck of something silver under the skin.
He landed on the other side, sliding to a crouch.
Breathing hard now.
His arms were shaking.
'He's fucking freak. No man's body holds up to this.'
Zoro turned slightly, sweat streaking down his jaw. His vision narrowed.
That's when Mr. 1 spoke.
"You're persistent," he said, calmly stepping forward. "But I can see it now."
His tone changed.
"You didn't realize, did you? You don't even know what I am."
Zoro's eyes locked on him.
Mr. 1 brought his arms out to his sides.
Then, a sound like grinding stone. Metal shifted under his skin. His arms transformed. The flesh seemed to peel away into smooth blades, long and sharp as executioner's swords. His shoulders bristled with edges. Even his legs began to reshape, knees to calves turning jagged, glinting like industrial steel.
Zoro's pupils shrank.
'What the hell...?'
"I ate the Supa Supa no Mi," Mr. 1 said flatly. "A Devil Fruit."
He took one step forward, and the ground split beneath his foot, a thin trench torn like it had been sliced with a scalpel.
"I can turn every part of my body… into a blade harder than steel."
The words barely registered before Mr. 1 moved.
Faster now. More vicious.
His entire right arm swung like a guillotine, a sweeping horizontal slice that whistled as it cut the air. Zoro raised both blades just in time.
CLAAAANG!
The impact threw him off his feet.
Zoro crashed into the stone steps of a nearby pillar, smashing straight through it.
Dust rained from above. He coughed once blood in his throat.
His swords were still in hand. His stance wasn't broken.
But his body?
'Shit...'
He tried to stand. One leg buckled.
Mr. 1 didn't chase. He just walked, slow and deliberate, dragging a trail of razor-sharp lines through the stone floor behind him.
Zoro planted one sword into the ground and leaned on it.
His chest heaved.
The city burned around them. Vivi was somewhere out there. Running.
And now… the real fight had begun.
TO BE CONTINUED.