Authors note: BOOM. UPDATE. Sort of a short chapter.
RedVoidentDragon- "But, is it or have you improved? Like, I can't place where but I feel like you have." I've felt like this for a while. It's been about a year and a half since this story started and it's only 7 chapters long. But when I look back at chapter 1 I can't believe how much my writing has changed. How much more I'm able to write, how much better I am at describing. I want to thank you also for always reviewing!
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The field was torn apart and, in the greatest extent, destroyed. Blood seeped into the earth's core and dotted the plants which greedily drank up the liquid as though it were water. A field trampled and died red by the defeat of the straw hats. The captain, with his straw hat sunken with a large footprint, lay defeated in the middle of it all. Not just beaten physically, no, for Luffy had the purest pride to attempt when others were stronger. But also brutally beaten mentally. Not in the sense of puzzles or brain aches, but beaten in the heart and spirit. There was more confusion and fog of doubt that clambered in his brain than actual focus on the battle. So he just lay, collapsed in the bloody field with neither the strength nor the will to stand up and continue. Not too far away there was the chef, whose blonde hair had flipped out in every direction, with legs sprawled and possibly broken, and whose chest heaved and sagged, trying to introduce oxygen to the shattered lungs. Robin exhausted beyond the means of consciousness and with arms so fiddly broken that the memory of pain still lingered on, even after drifting away into numbness. Then, the furry creature, whose fur was matted with blood and whose jaw was, at best, unhinged if not completely separated from his swollen head.
And then there was Zoro. His white shirt had been practically died with his own blood as gaping wounds, despite the tiny doctor's best attempts, remained open, gorging out atrocious amounts of blood that would have killed any normal man long ago. His swords were gripped faintly in his hands, so coated with dried death that it was a wonder his swords did not slip from his grip. Yet he was the only straw hat standing in the entirety of the silent field. Wind shrieked through the tree's, howling across the branches.
Despite the blood, despite the pain, Zoro did not have the eyes of a dead man. But they were also not the eyes of a living man. They were blank, no calculating thoughts, no inherent rage, and no calm demeanor. They were sullied, yet in the purest form, focused on the raw instinct and qualities of man, but not of a human.
He fingered the stem of his sword, feeling the familiar creases and weight and spots so worn down by sweat and use that they might as well have been there originally.
Dalburn stared from across the field, not quite believing that his former opponent could stand, yet alone hold a sword. The sick man chuckled, "Admirable. You won't even accept defeat with your crew defeated and your body gushing blood. If you value any purpose in your life, stand down. Or so help me I will break every bone in your body."
Zoro made no reaction; he simply continued to blankly stare at the character shouting at him. He gazed at him with nothing more than the attention which you would pay an ant. His devoured eyes cast around the field, noticing the crumpled comrades yet made no response to them either.
"Now, now Dalburn. I wouldn't underestimate him quite yet." Doflamingo said coyly, leaning forward with intrigue towards the swordsman. His fingers played against the tip of his face and twisted at the short blonde curls in his hair.
Dalburn swiveled back around to his captain with a confused look. "What? I beat him once and I'll damn well do it again."
"Hmmm…" Doflamingo mumbled, picking at his lip with the tip of his fingernail. "I wouldn't be so sure."
"What makes you so confident in this guy? He didn't seem like much special to me!" Dalburn shouted, slightly enraged at his captains lack of faith in his abilities.
Doflamingo ignored his crew member, shaking his hand dismissively. "We shall see. Now pay attention. He's coming for you." Doflamingo said quietly with a minor chuckle.
Dalburn swiftly turned around, his arms already cocked and intense look of fear and surprise in his eyes. Yet Zoro remained at the other side of the field, not having moving a single inch.
"What the hell do you mean he's coming for me? He hasn't even moved!" Dalburn shouted, now not even trying to contain his anger. Doflamingo just laughed and remained silent.
Dalburn cursed under his breath. "He's not that good and he's not that –
And that's when Zoro's fist plowed into the side of Dalburn's cheek. Dalburn tumbled backwards, his reflexes unable to catch or protect him. The man let out surprised gasp before turning around to the direction of where the punch came from, yet nobody was there.
"Punch me! What the hell are your swords for?" Dalburn shouted, raising his arms defensively and pivoting in a circle, seeking out his green haired opponent. He rotated his jaw around, still feeling the sharp bruising from the punch.
And suddenly he felt the coursing sting of steel seep through his calf. He yelled and jumped back, swinging his leg high into the air. Zoro deflected the kick with the raise of his other sword as he held on tightly to the sword that was currently immerged into Dalburn's lower leg. Blood began to spurt from the sword wound as Dalburn once again leapt back, trying to separate the sword from his leg. With a sickening gleam, Zoro twisted his sword in his hand, revolving the sword and twisting the wound. Dalburn clenched his jaw in pain and swung his other leg towards Zoro's head. The blow connected and the swordsman stumbled backwards, removing the sword from Dalburn's leg.
Dalburn painted heavily and attempted to push weight down on his injured leg, which barely stood as the muscles were all severed in Zoro's attack. The beastly man clenched his fists, complete with the brass knuckles. He sprinted towards Zoro, a look of dead seriousness in his eye.
Left, right, left, left, uppercut, right, left, gut- Dalburn let out a flurry of punches, all of them connecting on Zoro's limp body. Zoro attempted to dodge some, but the quantity was just too much for his nimble body. The swordsman body shook violently with every blow and a red fog of blood soon surrounded his body as that precious crimson liquid dripped out with every blow. Dalburn didn't stop for some time, treating Zoro's rag doll body as if it were a punching bag, sending barrage after barrage into the broken body and hearing every bone break and crack. Finally, Dalburn plowed his brass knuckles into the crevice of Zoro's nose, sending the swordsman flying several feet backwards.
Dalburn stood over the body, panting and glaring at the motionless figure below. "Bastard…" Dalburn murmured, slowly backing up from the body and gently touching his calf wound, which had begun to foster and swell with a purplish hue. He's not getting up after that. Sure hope Doflamingo isn't too disappointed that I killed his latest, well, project.
"I suppose it's my turn now."
Dalburn whipped around, not sure of where the voice came from- only to see Zoro standing as if nothing had happened, gently licking blood off of his sword and wiping the blood from his nose, which had proceeded to crack and break in several different places.
"What the hell?" Dalburn muttered. He should be dead. Every bone should be broken. He shouldn't be able to breath, let alone stand, let alone be alive! What the hell is he?
But Dalburn didn't have the time to contemplate his opponent anymore as before he was aware of what was going on, he felt the cool sword touch his shoulders. He spun, reflexes activating before his mind could understand the situation. But the twist was the wrong way and a gash emerged on his shoulder as Dalburn backed away from where the attack came.
Another sword touched his left arm, and another barely missed his neck. The moss haired swordsman's arms were dashing in every direction and it took all that Dalburn had to avoid every stroke of the sword that seemed so intent on killing him.
Then, for just the shortest second, Dalburn glanced at the attackers eyes and paused. Soulless. They were empty, the pupils had faded and the entirety of the green had disappeared, only to be replaced with an animalistic instinct which shuddered Dalburn to his very core. And looking closely, at the edges of Zoro's figure, Dalburn could see nothing but darkness. A subtle aura gleaned off of the bloodied skin of his opponent. The background behind him was distorted and the black rimming seemed to almost be pulsing next to Zoro's body. It seemed to hiss, to tell every fiber of Dalburn's body to run, to back away, to leave or be consumed by not the rage, not the anger, but the darkness which flooded Zoro's soul.
And instinctively, Dalburn flinched. He could not help it, every hair on his body stood up when he looked Zoro in the eyes. Every molecule in his body screamed of something unnatural.
Run.
That's all his body told him. Was to run.
Get as far away as possible.
And his attacker recognized this fear, recognized that split second of faltering which his victim presented. Zoro slashed his sword diagonally, ripping a gash across Dalburn's chest, mirroring the one on his own chest from Mihawk. Another slash, this time completely severing the right arm of Dalburn. The arm fell uselessly to the ground, bouncing pathetically over the grassy field. Blood erupted from the wound and Dalburn began to scream, seeing his own arm suddenly separated from him.
And then his left arm fell to the ground as well, this time severed at the bridge of the shoulder. The gruesome scene did not stop the swordsman, who darted around the collapsed Dalburn, prodding him with holes and unleashing a rampage of blood.
Zoro, which such a sharp precision, continued to pilfer away at Dalburn. Another swing, another slash. More blood added to the field, more blood staining Zoro's body. His swords cooed in delight as his victim began to beg, pleading with whatever consciousness he could muster for his life.
And soon the begging stopped as Dalburn slipped away into the realm of unconsciousness and death.
Yet Zoro did not stop. Another slash. Another brutal blow struck the body, which only shook in response. Dalburn's chest, once so intimidating, was torn apart, ravaged by the savage nature of the sword.
And even after the heart stopped, even after all of the blood stopped circulating and the life of Dalburn ceased, Zoro did not.
His swords dove into the bones, crushing every muscle of ever limb that ever existed in the man called Dalburn. The corpse was now unrecognizable, so distorted with the slashes and gaps and blood that it could have been identified as any poor, unfortunate soul.
And even then, when the bones had been ground to dust and body had been split into so many parts, Zoro did not stop.
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His crew watched from their dingy views in the field. At first there was the shock of their comrade standing, the hope that brewed in their chests, despite Zoro's comment of choosing his dream. Then there was the continued shock of Zoro punching Dalburn. Punching him. Not to their knowledge, besides Sanjii, had Zoro ever punched a person in place of his swords.
But Sanjii saw something different. It wasn't just unusual, it was the same. The Zoro who punched him last night, he began to see forming in this battle. He recognized the cold exterior that exerted across the battle field. But more than that, when Zoro punched Dalburn, Sanjii felt it. He felt it in his nose and a tearing in his heart. Something was wrong with Zoro. Something had driven him so far into the corner, so far in the realm of danger that he had lost himself. And Sanjii could see it. He could see how every blow Dalburn struck, how little effect they had on the disguised swordsman. And when Zoro began to strike back, that's when it became apparent. Sanjii could see the speckled black aura that edged around Zoro's figure. He could see the pure desire to destroy in his eyes- not the desire to win or to protect that was normally there. But to destroy. And it terrified Sanjii.
And destroy was just what Zoro did. He did not stop. And the crew just lay in the field, unsure of what was happening, what to do, how to stop Zoro.
Suddenly, Robin stood up, her strength returning to her enough to make the journey towards Zoro. She conquered whatever fears had subdued the rest of the crew when they saw Zoro in his bloodthirsty state. I don't know what he's doing, but somebody needs to do something.
"Stop! Swordsman-san. Please, stop, he has been defeated." She shouted at him, but he continued to dice the body, either not hearing her or ignoring her plea.
Robin limped towards the swordsman, her hands bloodied and broken, yet she continued to walk towards him. Her body was shaking. Her feet wanted to run in the other direction, to get away to saftey. It's just Zoro, just Zoro she told herself, trying to calm down her nerves.
"Swordsman-san! That is enough!" Robin shouted again, getting closer. Once again, no reaction.
She crept behind Zoro, whose intensity was so focused on the disintegrated victim of his swords. It's just Zoro, just Zoro
"Stop! Swordsman-san!" Robin shouted, almost in his ear. Yet Zoro ignored. Her heartbeat was pounding and she could feel herself sweating and shaking. Run. Run. Run. But she fought her instinct, told herself to stay next to her swordsman.
"Zoro!" She cried, reaching her arm out to his shoulder to stop him.
Without warning, Zoro turned around, and plunged his sword right down Robin's chest.
Surprise riddled across her face as she looked down at the gaping wound that had formed across her body. She looked back up to Zoro for a moment, seeing a harsh, devilish look in his eyes that quickly faded back to his normal emerald and he looked about as shocked as she did. And then Robin collapsed to the ground, blood already beginning to pool around her as Chopper, with what little strength he had rushed towards her and Sanjii, hobbling, if not crawling, towards his falling woman, screaming her name and cursing furiously at Zoro.
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But Zoro did not hear the screams and shrieks of his crew. Everybody was yelling, screaming, crying, in terror, in paint, but those sounds did not reach Zoro's ears. Everything was so deathly silent for him. Not the wind, not the crying chef, not the yelps of Nami- only the quiet.
Zoro's eyes glanced down at Robin and suddenly he was overcome with a sense of uncertainty, of how she got there, why she was there, why she was bleeding. I did that. Zoro thought, without a single trace of guilt, but not quite remembering how or why. Only the certainty that he did that.
He looked up to Sanjii who was huddled around Robin's slowly breathing body, tightly gripping her hand and whispering soft words to her and then spewing unbelievably rage towards Zoro. He probably would have gotten up and attacked Zoro, had his legs not been broken and Robin muttered words of peace to him. Chopper edged away from Zoro, strapping Robin with slight medical supplies and not even daring up to glance at Zoro or treat his wounds. And further away Nami was saying something to him. Her lips were moving and Zoro was certain she was shouting things in disbelief at him. But he heard none of their words. Only the silence.
Across the field Zoro's eyes wandered towards Doflamingos figure escaping between the tree linings into the depth of the forest. And with a deadly smile and a wagging finger, Doflamingo chuckled and shouted towards Zoro, "See? I told you they were in your way."
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Authors Note: Review as always… I probably could have done a bit more with this chapter, playing on Zoro's darkness and whatnot. But I knew that if I don't put it out today, it'll take me another few weeks to just sit down and upload it. So you all get the rough copy. Hope you don't mind!