Outside a weapon shop in the back streets of Loguetown.
Ronan emerged from the dim shop with a heavy weapon in hand.
It was not the Zhangba Iron Spear he had longed for, but a three-meter-long black staff.
It had no sharp spearhead, only ancient, rough patterns, as though it had been forged from some unknown metal.
"Hey, Ronan."
With three swords at his waist, Zoro frowned slightly at the thing in Ronan's hand. "Weren't you always going on about using a spear? This poker... doesn't seem very suitable, does it?"
That balding shop owner had searched the storeroom for ages without finding a suitable spear, only to dig up this piece of forgotten "scrap metal" from a corner of the warehouse.
Apparently, its material was too heavy and its melting point too high to be reforged. With no edge to speak of, it had never sold.
Seeing how badly Ronan wanted a long weapon, the owner had simply given it to him.
"Not suitable?"
Ronan stopped, gently running his fingers across the cold, dense patterns on the staff. A glint flashed in his eyes.
"Hum—"
Holding the staff one-handed, he sharply flicked his wrist.
The heavy Ebony Staff actually vibrated through the air with a deep hum like muffled thunder, instantly scattering the dust around it.
"Heavy, hard, and incredibly resilient."
Ronan nodded in satisfaction. He could tell that this staff was made of no ordinary material; it was several times stronger than normal steel.
"The spear was originally derived from the staff. A spear thrusts in a line, while a staff sweeps across a whole area. For me right now, as long as the force is there, it doesn't matter whether it has a spearhead. I can still stab someone to death."
Ronan slung the black staff across