Chapter Forty-Two: Zoro’s Astonishment

"Roar—"
At Little Eight's command, Moo Moo let out an enraged bellow, its foul breath filling the air once more as it turned, preparing to dive into the sea.
As long as it returned to the ocean, it would reign supreme. At full speed, it didn't believe any ship could withstand it.
"Trying to run already?"
Roland let out a mocking laugh, sword in hand, and with a casual flick unleashed a flying slash.
The dark red arc shot forth with incredible speed, severing one of Moo Moo's horns almost the moment it turned.
"What is that..."
"Impossible..."
Little Eight's pupils shrank as he watched, stunned.
What kind of technique was this? Why had he never heard of it before?
And what was with that terrifying power?
A single stroke, and Moo Moo's horn was gone?
They knew exactly how tough those horns were—when they first captured Moo Moo, even Boss Along's teeth, sharp enough to crush steel, couldn't do anything against them.
But now, some bizarre attack had cut it clean off?
As shock gripped him, Little Eight's heart clenched in dread.
It was true that Moo Moo usually obeyed his orders, but only in certain situations—when it was hungry, it would often ignore him.
Now, with a horn gone, what would happen next?
He feared Moo Moo would go berserk, overturn the ship, and swallow him whole in its rampage.
"Roar—"
"Roar—"
"Roar—"
Moo Moo stared at the massive fallen horn before it, its eyes instantly turning blood-red.
It roared in fury, gaze locking onto the culprit—Roland.
"Why are you making so much noise? Or do you think your breath isn't foul enough already?"
Unfazed by Moo Moo's impotent rage, Roland even taunted the sea beast.
"Mr. Roland, please, don’t provoke it any further..."
The pirates, witnessing this, were left trembling with fear.
Faced with such a monstrous creature, they had no idea how to fight back.
Even after over a decade at sea, they'd never encountered anything like this.
If that thing rammed the ship, it would be reduced to splinters.
So when they saw Roland still jeering at the beast, despair settled in their hearts.
"And you, over there, stinking octopus—do you really think something like that could threaten me?"
Roland glanced back at Little Eight, his sarcasm unrelenting.

As he spoke, another flying slash was unleashed, severing Moo Moo's other horn.
The entire motion was smooth and effortless.
But to Little Eight, it was utterly terrifying.
Not because of Roland's strength, but because of Moo Moo, whose eyes were now bulging with rage.
Losing one horn, he could still hope to placate Moo Moo somehow.
But with both horns gone, what could he possibly do?
For a giant sea cow, its horns were everything—its pride, its symbol of power.
With none left, how could it attract a mate? How could it compete for the right to reproduce?
At this moment, Little Eight was plunged into despair.
"You’d best think about how you’ll survive Zoro’s sword," Roland said, seeing the light fade from Little Eight's eyes and shaking his head in resignation.
Truly, these were the weak ones cast off by the Grand Line—just a sea beast, not even a Sea King, yet so easily cowed.
And they dreamed of conquering the world and building a Fishman Empire? They might as well be playing house.
Turning back to Moo Moo, he saw the beast had lost all reason.
With jaws agape, it lunged, intent on swallowing Roland whole.
"I told you, your mouth really stinks—"
Roland frowned, swung his sword with full force, and unleashed a slash even more ferocious than before.
With a color reminiscent of dried blood, the attack radiated terror.
The flying slash shot forward, and in the blink of an eye, passed clean through the sea cow, vanishing into the horizon.
Finished, Roland sheathed his sword and strode toward the bow.
Behind him, the sea cow did not halt—still charging with gaping maw, closing in on Roland.
"Watch out—!"
Zoro, seeing this, panicked and drew his blade, ready to rush to Roland’s aid.
But before he could take a single step, a stunning sight unfolded.
Moo Moo, jaws nearly upon Roland, suddenly froze in place, like a statue.
A moment later, a single drop of blood trickled from its chin.
Then, starting from the jaw, the sea cow collapsed like a pile of crumbling blocks, flesh and bone raining down in a grisly shower behind Roland.
Everyone watching was wide-eyed, disbelief etched on their faces.
"Is... is this Mr. Roland's true strength?"
One pirate spoke in a trembling voice, terror clear in every word.
With just a single stroke, Roland had dismembered a beast that size.
Was such strength even humanly possible?
Seeing it with their own eyes, they finally believed those tales of a single sword stroke cleaving a ship in two.

To the untrained, it was just spectacle; to the skilled, it was a revelation.
As a fellow swordsman, Zoro was even more shaken than the pirates.
This was true swordsmanship.
A single stroke, and all were equal.
When he'd first seen the flying slash, Zoro thought it was nothing more than an extended attack, no more powerful than a direct blow.
But now he realized—nothing he could do with a sword would have such devastating effect.
His shock only deepened his hunger for strength.
If Roland, still far below Hawkeye, possessed such power, what of Hawkeye himself—the world’s greatest swordsman?
Turning his attention to the dumbstruck Fishman before him, Zoro's fighting spirit was ablaze.
He needed more battles, more training.

"Damn you, how dare you—how dare you kill Moo Moo!"
Perhaps out of desperation, Little Eight’s eyes turned red as he charged at Roland with six swords.
"Your opponent is me, Fishman."
This time, Zoro did not wait for Roland to act—he knew that if Roland intervened, he’d have no chance to fight.
Gripping his sword, Zoro intercepted Little Eight and engaged him in battle.
Roland had no intention of interfering; this was Zoro’s fight.
Even with only one sword and unable to use his full power, this was a trial Zoro had to face.
If they joined the Navy, with their talent and strength, they wouldn’t be in the East Blue for long—they’d soon be sent to the Grand Line.
There, dangers and unpredictable situations would abound.
As a swordsman, Zoro couldn't always count on having his swords at hand.
He needed to master not just one-sword style, but even swordless combat.

"So, how do you think my strength compares to Along’s?"
Roland approached Nami with a smile.
"Well..."
She looked at the remains of the once-mighty beast, now scattered in bloody fragments, and found herself at a loss for words.
She realized she had underestimated Roland all along.
With strength like this, defeating Along would be effortless.
Nami smiled—a genuine, relieved smile.
It was the first time in three days that she had felt such lightness in her heart.