Buzz—

Shimotsuki Ryuma stepped forward in small, deliberate strides, the clack of his wooden geta echoing. The sword Shusui tilted downward, its tip angled toward the ground.

One moment he was two meters away, and in the next, his figure blurred—suddenly appearing right before Kuro, thrusting Shusui straight at him!

Bang!

Kuro tilted his head slightly, the blade grazing past his temple and piercing the wall behind him. With a crack, spiderweb fractures spread, followed by a thunderous crash as the wall collapsed.

“You really are a peculiar kind of Wano swordsman,” Kuro remarked, utterly unfazed by the deadly strike so close at hand, even adjusting his round glasses as though nothing had happened. “You wield a katana, yet you use it with the style of a fencer.”

“There’s no helping it.” Shimotsuki Ryuma let out a chilling, hollow laugh—yoh-hoh-hoh-hoh. “The ‘shadow’s’ original owner only knows this form of swordplay. Even if I wished to revive the name of ‘Sword God Ryuma,’ I lack the means.”

The blade of Shusui twisted sideways, slashing across the short distance toward Kuro.

Kuro’s form vanished once more into afterimages, while Ryuma’s Wano-style robes were torn open in several places, leaving them ragged and tattered.

“What technique is that?” Ryuma withdrew Shusui, glancing down at his clothing. Had he not reacted with utmost speed, he would have been cleaved in two.

“One of the Six Powers: Soru.”

“Six Powers?” Ryuma cocked his head in confusion, chuckling darkly. “Yoh-hoh-hoh-hoh— The shadow’s body has never encountered such a technique. Perhaps the true Ryuma once witnessed this kind of honed martial art.”

Kuro understood. The Six Powers were simply what happened when one’s body transcended a certain threshold—a form of martial arts born of mastery. Many of the strong in the “New World” possessed abilities similar to Rokushiki.

Without such techniques, how else could Ryuma have once cut down a dragon flying in the skies?

“Yoh-hoh-hoh-hoh—” Ryuma’s eerie laughter rumbled again. “When I crossed blades with the shadow’s original body years ago, it was disappointing. But now, facing you, I feel a spark of anticipation.”

“Sounds like you’re eager to die.”

“I cannot die so easily… and yet I cannot allow the name of Sword God Ryuma to be shamed. If you truly have the strength, then my head, my blade Shusui—take them if you can!”

His words reverberated across the broken bridge and ruined castle, and as though bound by a mutual will, the two launched forward simultaneously.

Ryuma soared like a dragon in the heavens, while Kuro charged like a tiger upon the earth. Before their blades even touched, their sword auras clashed, visible to the naked eye.

Boom!

A gale roared forth, sword-light flashing like lightning in the night, shattering the remaining section of the bridge into rubble.

Buggy, having already retrieved his separated legs, happened to arrive just in time to witness this, his jaw dropping in shock.

Without realizing it, Kuro had grown so strong?

But I joined the crew before him! Why is my growth lagging so far behind?

No matter how he turned it over in his mind, Buggy could only conclude: Kuro always faced stronger enemies… and there was also that strange contract he’d signed with the Captain.

From the swirling dust, two figures burst forth, sprinting up the crumbling castle walls, leaping toward the spire!

As they climbed, Kuro unleashed a storm of slashing strikes—ten clawed blades scattering countless thin arcs of sword aura, slicing into the stone walls like fangs, all cutting toward Ryuma.

Ryuma countered with blinding thrusts of Shusui, striking back like an afterimage.

Crash—

Blow met blow, sword-qi tearing apart the air. Every stained-glass window of the castle shattered, shards raining down in the moonlight like fireflies.

In the blink of an eye, they had reached the spire’s peak.

But the outcome was clear.

Kuro’s black suit was slashed in several places, but he was otherwise unharmed.

Ryuma, however, stood with scarf unraveled, garments in tatters, and his withered right arm severed at the elbow, forcing him to hold Shusui with his left.

“Ahh—”

At last, he let out a long sigh. His grip loosened, and Shusui slipped free, falling like a meteor before embedding itself point-first into the spire with a resonant clang.

“Alas… this shadow and body weigh me down. I cannot display the true techniques of the Sword God. This is as far as I go. Kuro, I shall remember your name. If fate allows, let us meet again at the shrine where Shimotsuki Ryuma is honored.”

Cracks spread across his body, and with a splintering sound, his vessel fell apart into fragments, scattering across the spire.

The truth was, the outcome had already been decided during their ascent.

Kuro stepped forward, pulled Shusui free, and studied it in his hand. Its edge radiated a ruthless sharpness.

He was no swordsman—but this blade would make a fine gift for Hachi.

After casting Ryuma one last glance, Kuro leapt gracefully down from the ruined castle.

Tap—

He landed lightly, like an antelope springing from a cliff, elegant and composed.

“Didn’t think you’d take him down that fast,” Buggy muttered in awe, holding onto his hat as he approached.

“Clashes at the pinnacle are meant to end in an instant. Those battles that drag on for days are few and far between.” Kuro adjusted his glasses again, this time without removing his clawed gloves. “I’ve gained strength from countless blood-soaked battles. And beyond that, the Captain’s contract has given me an immense boost.”

To him, defeating Ryuma’s zombie was natural. If he’d failed, he would never have been able to face the Captain again.

So it really was that contract…

Buggy latched onto the key point, his heart stirring. But wasn’t a hundred years too steep a price? He hesitated.

“Let’s head back,” Kuro said suddenly. “We’ve gathered more than enough intel. Besides, Alvida and Law have probably been attacked too. If we regroup and share what we’ve found, we’ll uncover the full truth of this island.”

“Huh?” Buggy was reluctant. “We’re not going further in?”

Kuro gave him a puzzled look.

Usually, Buggy was the most cowardly. Just earlier, he’d only fought back because the General Zombie had pushed him into a corner. Otherwise, he never would’ve picked a fight.

Kuro had expected Buggy to leap at the chance to retreat. But now, surprisingly, he wanted to press on. Why?

Something must have tempted him…

Kuro quickly deduced the answer. Buggy wasn’t greedy for many things. It had to be something he’d overheard from that wine-bottle zombie earlier.

“Treasure?” Kuro asked casually.

“You heard that?!” Buggy staggered back in shock, his red nose no longer so vivid under the crimson moonlight. “That bracelet—”

“Bracelet?” Kuro fixed him with a sharp stare.

Buggy immediately clamped both hands over his mouth, shaking his head violently, clearly unwilling to say another word.

Kuro could only laugh.

What good is hiding it now? Before the Captain, you’ll have to spill everything anyway.

But at the same time, he marveled at Buggy’s greed—willing to risk his life just for riches.

The mansion looming ahead was obviously Moria’s stronghold, and Buggy still wanted to sneak in after some bracelet?

For some phantom treasure?

Kuro’s lips curled into a smile. He was just about to speak when Buggy’s face suddenly twisted in terror.

At that moment, a pale-white head emerged from Buggy’s chest.

The ghostly face grinned at Kuro, sticking out a pink tongue.

In an instant, the rest of the figure drifted out of Buggy’s body—an airy, sack-like apparition floating into the air.

A ghost?

Kuro’s brow furrowed.

Then, as the ghost phased through him, Buggy’s hands fell limply from his mouth, and he dropped to his knees before Kuro, pressing his palms against the ground.

“I’m sorry… A greedy fool like me deserves the same fate as Captain John—killed by his own crew, abandoned without a grave…”

What was happening?

Kuro’s eyes narrowed. This was the lowest, most broken tone he had ever heard from Buggy.

Yet even with Buggy’s mix of arrogance and cowardice, there was no way he would collapse like this just from guilt.

Those ghosts—something was wrong with them!

Realization struck, and at that very moment, several identical pale ghosts swooped down toward him from the sky.

Kuro slashed with his claws, tearing through the air—but struck nothing.

No contact. His pupils contracted.

The ghosts slipped through his chest, phasing out through his back.

Please drop some power stones supper me at my

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep