"The thing about iron," Zoro said, sheathing his swords as the Priest of Skypiea collapsed into the clouds, "is that it eventually meets someone harder."
Zoro landed, the wires sagging behind him, sliced clean. Ohm gasped, a red line appearing across his chest. 177 : The Ordeal of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma...
The thick, sulfuric mist of the Ordeal of Iron didn't just obscure vision; it tasted like pennies and old blood. "The thing about iron," Zoro said, sheathing his
He closed his eyes. If Ohm could read his mind, Zoro would stop thinking. He focused on the breath of the iron—the vibration of the barbs, the tension in the whip. He wasn't looking for a gap in the wires; he was looking for the soul of the metal. He closed his eyes
Should we delve into a from another Ordeal, or perhaps explore a "what-if" scenario where the Straw Hats faced a different Priest?
The sparks lit up the fog like dying stars. Zoro felt the bite of the barbs—thin, stinging slices across his shoulders. The iron was fast, guided by Ohm’s "Mantra," predicting Zoro’s every breath.
With a flick of Ohm’s wrist, the Eisen Whip lashed out. It didn't just strike; it curved, defying physics, weaving through the existing mesh of barbed wire to trap Zoro in a collapsing sphere of metal.