The square lay in ruins.
Moonlight filtered through wisps of rising smoke. Lanterns swung from broken beams, casting long shadows across splintered tables and shattered barrels. The air stank of gunpowder and scorched stone. Groans echoed from the battered bounty hunters sprawled across the ground—some unconscious, others too afraid to rise.
Zoro stood at the center.
His green haramaki was scuffed and torn, the sleeves of his shirt in tatters. Blood ran slowly from a cut above his brow, but his grip on his swords remained firm. He didn't pant. He didn't blink. He waited.
Then the silence shifted.
Bootsteps echoed from the far end of the square.
Two figures emerged from the fog.
One walked with deliberate poise, black shoes clicking against stone. His sunglasses gleamed despite the low light, and in his hand spun a softly humming orb of volatile energy.
The other floated above the debris, descending with the grace of a dancer. Her parasol twirled lazily in one hand, her eyes sparkling with childlike delight.
Mr. 5. Miss Valentine.
Baroque Works officer agents.
Zoro's jaw flexed once.
He said nothing.
Mr. 5's gaze roamed the battlefield. "So this is what one swordsman can do?"
Miss Valentine lowered until her heels gently kissed the ground. "And here I thought the party started without us."
The orb in Mr. 5's hand pulsed brighter. "Crocodile doesn't like delays."
Zoro shifted one foot back and tilted his chin.
"You'll be late to your own funeral."
From the rooftop above, Nami crouched behind a cracked chimney, knuckles white on the stone.
She'd seen strong enemies before—Arlong, Hatchan, even that walking cannon at Loguetown. But these two didn't posture. They didn't yell. They simply appeared—and the air changed.
She watched Zoro standing alone below.
Always alone.
"He doesn't even hesitate," she whispered.
But her chest was tight.
Miss Valentine rose a few feet off the ground. Her voice echoed playfully. "Ten thousand kilograms…"
She dropped.
The wind whooshed around her body as she plummeted. Zoro stepped aside at the last instant. Her impact exploded the cobblestone, creating a crater of jagged debris and flung dust. The shockwave blew Zoro's hair back.
Before the dust cleared, Mr. 5 hurled the orb.
Zoro raised two swords and crossed them as the projectile met steel.
The explosion consumed the square.
Flame lit the smoke like a lantern from hell.
Stone split.
Benches vaporized.
For a moment, it was as if the world shook.
Then—
A shape moved through the fire.
Zoro stepped from the smoke, his torso burned, a long rip across his shirt. He rolled his shoulder.
"Next?"
Mr. 5 cracked his neck. "Persistent."
On the edge of the square, half-hidden in shadow, Vivi—still wearing her Miss Wednesday cloak—watched with clenched fists.
The way the officers moved.
The way they spoke.
This wasn't protocol.
[End of Chapter 106]
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