Outside the royal capital, on a street in town, the exotic, elegant buildings that should have lined both sides had collapsed into a heap of rubble.
Zoro's brows were furrowed, and the green bandana he usually wore around his arm was now tied around his head.
He only did that when facing a powerful opponent. Standing before him was a tall, muscular bald man with dark skin and a scar like a hideous centipede crawling over the corner of his eye.
There was only one opponent who could make Zoro take things this seriously: Mr. 1, the top agent in Baroque Works whose strength came closest to the boss's.
The famous assassin from the West Blue, Daz Bones—the user of the Paramecia Slicing-Slicing Fruit.
"It's no use, Roronoa."
Daz's low voice carried a trace of disdain, and his calm expression made it clear he meant it.
His hands were crossed over his chest, fingers curled like claws, the inner sides of them gleaming with razor-sharp blades.
"I ate the Slicing-Slicing Fruit. As a swordsman, you can't defeat me!"
"Heh. You sure sound full of yourself."
Zoro replied in a cold, low voice. By now, he was covered in blood.
Though he sounded unconcerned, the truth was that he hadn't managed to inflict even the slightest injury on his opponent.
"You're a swordsman, yet you look down on swordsmen. You're a strange one."
"I'm not a swordsman. Don't call me that."
Daz remained expressionless, like a cold-blooded killer straight out of a movie. He bent his knees slightly, pushed off the ground, and shot forward.
Leaning into his charge, he held his hands across his chest and swung them at Zoro, unleashing an invisible slash.
"Melt Slash!"
Clang!
Slash! Slash!
The sound of blades clashing rang out at the same time