Yoriichi, who had always maintained strict control over his expressions, couldn't hold back his surprise at this mont. His usually composed deanor cracked slightly when he saw Zoro grip a blade between his teeth with practiced ease.
"Three Sword Style?" Yoriichi's gentle voice carried across the training field, tinged with genuine curiosity.
"Damn, the mute actually talks!"
Azrael's eyes widened in amazent upon hearing Yoriichi speak. This was the first ti he had ever heard the legendary swordsman utter a single word. Although Yoriichi's backstory ntioned his preference for silence during childhood, Azrael had always assud it was due to subpar materials used in the card creation process. But apparently, Yoriichi simply chose not to speak.
So he just didn't want to talk this whole ti?!
"Zoro, show him what you've got!" Luffy's enthusiastic voice rang out from the sidelines, his trademark grin stretching from ear to ear.
Luffy's shout served as the unofficial starting signal. Zoro imdiately launched himself at Yoriichi, his movents fluid and controlled. He was deliberately holding back, of course; the difference in strength between the Bronze and Black Iron levels was significant enough without adding unnecessary brutality to their sparring match.
More importantly, Zoro's red-quality rating far exceeded Yoriichi's purple classification. This encounter would be purely about swordsmanship technique, nothing more.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The sharp ring of steel eting steel echoed continuously across the field. As the duel intensified, brilliant sparks flew from each clash, illuminating the focused expressions of both fighters. Yoriichi was completely caught off guard by the green-haired swordsman's unexpectedly sophisticated three-blade technique.
It wasn't a flashy, showy style designed to intimidate opponents. Every movent had purpose; every strike carried lethal intent.
Taking a asured breath, Zoro crossed his arms in preparation for his signature attack. His figure shot forward like a teor, blades singing through the air with deadly precision.
Faced with such overwhelming offensive pressure, Yoriichi's breathing pattern shifted involuntarily. His chest rose and fell in the distinctive rhythm he had mastered long ago:
Sun Breathing Technique.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
Yoriichi successfully parried Zoro's devastating combination attack. Imdiately afterward, he sheathed his sword and spoke with quiet dignity. "I concede defeat."
By using the Sun Breathing Technique, he violated their agreent to compete using pure swordsmanship. Honor demanded that he acknowledge this transgression.
Zoro thodically returned each of his three swords to their sheaths. His voice carried genuine respect as he said, "That was just luck on my part."
He could sense the incredible depth behind Yoriichi's swordsmanship. Although they had agreed to a technique-only competition, Zoro knew that he had gained an unfair advantage through his superior card level and quality rating.
Azrael walked to the center of the makeshift arena and addressed Zoro with an encouraging smile. "Don't look so disappointed. There will be plenty of opportunities to face even stronger swordsn in the future."
Hearing Azrael's reassuring words, Zoro's dejected mood lifted imdiately. The promise of future challenges sparked new excitent in his eyes.
Azrael wasn't lying, either. When he eventually created Yamato Nadeshiko no Unohana Yachiru, Zoro would finally find a swordsmanship opponent capable of satisfying his hunger for improvent.
After collecting the cards from the field, Azrael prepared for the journey ho. Mounting Pidgeot, he slowly descended toward his house, sighing internally. Those goggles are still useless against the wind. I really need to solve this transportation issue soon.
What kind of vehicle could handle high speeds across all terrain types while maintaining passenger comfort? This question occupied his thoughts during the entire flight ho.
Azrael retrieved his house key and pushed through the front door, his mind still wrestling with transportation logistics. He walked through the entrance corridor, planning to grab a glass of water from the kitchen before settling in for the evening.
Just as he passed the living room, his entire body froze.
"Don't be afraid, Azrael. Please, sit down." A magnetic voice resonated from sowhere within his supposedly empty ho.
He turned his head stiffly and saw a man in an expensive black suit sitting comfortably on his sofa. The stranger smiled at him with practiced ease, as if he belonged there.
The next instant, Luffy, Zoro, Kaneki, and Yoriichi appeared in front of Azrael, responding to the perceived threat.
But
BANG!
The mont his four cards appeared, an enormous, irresistible pressure descended from nowhere. The force drove all four fighters to their knees while deep cracks spiderwebbed across the floor.
A young man with an utterly indifferent expression stood beside the suited figure, regarding Azrael's summoned cards with a cold appraisal.
"GAAAHHHHH!!!"
Azrael's cards roared in defiance. Their eyes blazed red as they struggled with all their might to stand and protect their master.
Unfortunately, their efforts proved completely futile.
"Easy there, guys. Leave this to ." Azrael sighed heavily and offered what comfort he could to Luffy and the others before reluctantly returning them to his mind space.
He'd already realized that his opponent operated on a completely different level. This opponent was definitely not Silver-rank; no Silver-level fighter would leave Luffy and Zoro without even the slightest chance to fight back.
It was better to conserve energy and discover what these intruders actually wanted.
"Crimson Oaths?"
Azrael had already deduced the identity of his uninvited guests. Who else could they be but the Crimson Oaths organization?
At that mont, Azrael couldn't help but feel the disadvantage of being an orphan. If his family lived here, the Crimson Oaths would never have dared to approach so brazenly.
And hadn't they recently suffered major injuries? Why are they acting even more arrogantly than before? Azrael wondered silently.
After hearing Azrael's rhetorical question, the suited man nodded slightly, speaking with practiced smoothness: "Allow to introduce myself. My na is mphis."
Uncertain about his visitor's true intentions, Azrael answered, "mphis."
There was no alternative; the situation heavily favored his opponent.
Seeing Azrael's cooperative attitude, a satisfied smile appeared on mphis's face: "The young man shows promise."
"I ca here tonight to invite you, Student Azrael, to join the Crimson Oaths Society."
Hearing these words, Azrael's face twisted into a helpless, bitter smile. "At this point, do I really have a choice in the matter?"
"I accept!"
mphis adopted an expression of mock innocence. "Hey, now, don't say that. We at the Crimson Oaths Society respect basic human rights."
"If you don't want to join, we won't force you."
You'll simply pay a small price for declining."
Murderous intent flickered briefly in mphis's eyes. He had definitely noticed Zoro's earlier appearance, which ant that the high school student sitting before him had successfully created another powerful card.
Following the principle of "destroy what you cannot obtain," mphis prepared himself for violence.
"I hope you'll make the right choice." He maintained his impeccable smile while cold calculations raced through his mind. "I'd really hate to take action against a genius like yourself."
Azrael was completely speechless. How could he fail to understand mphis's underlying threat? There really was no choice at all.
Moreover, the fates of Kent, Royce, and the many ordinary Novex Financial employees who experienced the Crimson Oaths' version of "respecting human rights" were still fresh in his mind.
As expected, mphis produced a contract from his jacket and extended it toward Azrael. "Words alone won't suffice, Please sign this, Student Azrael."
Azrael's posture straightened instinctively, but he quickly forced himself to relax, sighing internally. Of course.
Given the Crimson Oaths' ruthless nature, how could they possibly operate without binding contracts?
mphis watched Azrael with obvious amusent, genuinely curious about how the young man would proceed.
Azrael took a deep breath, accepted the contract, and began carefully reviewing its terms and conditions.
After what felt like an eternity, he exhaled silently.
Good grief. These clauses would make even the most heartless capitalists from my previous life bow down in respect twice over.
After a long, contemplative silence, Azrael picked up the pen and signed his na at the bottom of the contract.
Azrael.
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