"Ryuma was invincible for eight years," the elder continued, his voice carrying over the clamor of the battlefield. "He challenged every great swordsman in Wano—save for one. Kurozumi Oden. Oden himself had raised those swordsmen as whetstones for Ryuma's blade."
The gathered samurai held their breath as the tale unfolded.
"In those eight years, Ryuma's swordsmanship reached its absolute peak. And when he was twenty-five, he finally faced his greatest trial. Oden, seventy-three years old, undefeated for half a century, awaited him. That duel was the grandest spectacle Wano ever witnessed."
The old man's tone dipped with reverence. "Yet the scrolls record nothing of the clash. Their speed, their realms of swordsmanship, too far beyond mortal eyes. Even great swordsmen could not glimpse their blades."
Still, he recounted what history preserved. "At first, Ryuma was suppressed. But he was the world's most gifted swordsman, one who broke through in the very midst of battle. Stroke by stroke, he surpassed Oden and claimed victory."
A faint smile touched the elder's lips. "Oden laughed then. 'From now on,' he said, 'you are the Sword God of Wano.' And so, with that acknowledgment, the title passed to Ryuma. The legend of the Sword God had only just begun."
Gasps rippled through the listeners. Even Teach, jaded as he was, felt a stir in his chest. The tale smacked of the "protagonist's path" he remembered from stories in his past life, suppressed at first, then breaking limits to triumph. It was almost too on the nose. And yet… it thrilled him.
The elder pressed on. "After that duel, Kurozumi Oden withdrew into seclusion. His fate is unknown. His blade, Futsu-no-Mitama, vanished as well. No one dreamed it would resurface today. Alongside Shusui, it belongs enshrined in the hall of our ancestors. A national treasure of Wano." His voice shook with excitement.
Orochi himself had been listening intently. Until this day, he had known only his ancestor's name and sword. Never the full tale. For a heartbeat, he felt the weight of that legacy. Then his lips curled.
"My Orochi Nitoryu isn't bad either," he muttered.
He drew his second blade—the Yagami no Katana, the ancestral treasure of the Kurozumi line. Twin swords in hand, his aura surged, pressing down on the battlefield.
"Oden!" Orochi roared, his voice like thunder. "Today, only one of us walks away alive!"
The clash began. King against king, general against general. The armies crashed like tidal waves, Wano's massive samurai host splitting Orochi's smaller force into isolated pockets.
The seven great swordsmen of the Kurozumi clan fought like demons, each beset by two or three opponents. They were outmatched, but they fought without restraint, their blades burning with the desperation of men who knew this was their last stand.
Teach and the Whitebeard Pirates watched, stunned. To them, this was a clash of gods. Blades rang out with enough force to shake mountains. Vista's eyes shone as he studied the duels, drinking in every detail.
But it was the center of the battlefield that drew every gaze.
There, Oden and Orochi clashed endlessly, their Conqueror's Haki lashing against each other in bolts of black and red lightning. The ground itself trembled and split beneath them, an empty ring fifty meters wide forming around their duel.
"Togen Shirataki!" Oden roared, his twin blades flashing with Armament Haki as he unleashed a devastating slash.
Orochi answered in kind. "Yamata no Orochi Slash!" His aura twisted, terrible and serpentine, as though six phantom arms had sprouted behind him, each wielding a blade. The two strikes collided, their Haki tearing the air apart.
The battle shook even hardened warriors to their core. Still, Oden pressed the advantage. His raw power, his Haki, his experience—all outstripped Orochi's. Blow by blow, the shogun was forced back.
Then came the decisive strike.
"Oden Nitoryu—Togen Totsuka!"
His blades crossed, forming a meteor-bright slash that ripped through Orochi's defenses. Blood sprayed. Two massive wounds carved across Orochi's chest, and his arms were cleaved clean off, the treasured blades still clenched in lifeless hands as they fell to the dirt.
The battlefield froze. Silence swept across both armies.
"Has Orochi been defeated? Is the war over?"
But Orochi only laughed. Turning his head toward Oden, he grinned with wild delight. "As expected of you, Oden. From the moment I first saw you, I knew—you were my greatest opponent!"
Oden narrowed his eyes. Something was wrong. His Observation Haki told him Orochi's life force had not waned. Not even slightly.
Whispers spread. "I heard Orochi has the power of an eight-headed serpent…"
A Mythical Zoan.
Orochi's grin split wider. "I didn't think you'd force me to reveal this so soon. Yamata no Orochi!"
His body warped, skin turning green and scaly. His severed arms elongated, reattaching seamlessly as his wounds healed in an instant. His form swelled larger, and larger still.
The ground quaked. Warriors stumbled back as the battlefield itself was consumed.
Two hundred meters tall. Eight massive heads, each a hundred meters long, loomed overhead, blotting out the sky.
Gasps of terror echoed.
"Mythical Zoan…" murmured the Whitebeard Pirates. Even they, who had seen Kaido's transformations, paled at the sight.
Teach only smiled, eyes glinting. This was the true form of the Yamata no Orochi.
The monster's eight heads spoke in unison, a thunderous chorus that shook the heavens.
"Oden—our battle has just begun!"
One head lunged. Oden moved to dodge, but agony spiked in his skull. His body hesitated, just for an instant—too late. The impact sent him flying, blood spraying.
"What was that?" Teach's brows furrowed. That hesitation… it wasn't physical. It was something else.
Oden steadied himself, preparing for the next attack. Again, the invisible force struck—this time a direct blow to his mind. His Conqueror's Haki barely shielded him, but the truth became clear.
"Mental attack," Teach muttered.
The realization spread among the Whitebeard Pirates. The Yamata no Orochi's power wasn't merely regeneration and size. It was something rarer, more terrifying—assaults on the mind and spirit themselves.
Then Orochi escalated.
Oden's world went black. His sight vanished. Then his hearing. His sense of touch, of smell, of taste—one by one stripped away.
The great samurai staggered, defenseless, as Orochi's eight heads slammed him into the earth again and again.
Blood soaked the battlefield.
"What's happening? Why isn't Oden resisting?" voices cried in horror.
Whitebeard alone remained calm, his gaze steady. "It's the fruit's ability. His five senses have been taken. Unless he finds a way to overcome it, he cannot fight back. But… this is Oden. We'll wait."
Teach's grin widened. "Hebi Hebi no Mi, Model: Yamata no Orochi. A Mythical Zoan with two deadly gifts—mental shock, and deprivation of the five senses. Even Observation Haki falters against it."
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with anticipation.
"This is where it gets interesting."