177 : The Ordeal Of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma... Apr 2026

The fog began to lift, revealing the path forward. The ordeal was over, but the war for the sky had only just begun.

"I see your heart," Ohm droned, his dog Holy sitting motionless behind him. "It beats with the rhythm of a man who thinks he can cut anything." 177 : The Ordeal of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma...

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. The fog began to lift, revealing the path forward

Zoro stood at the center of the Milky Road, his boots crunching on the strange, frozen clouds. Before him stood Ohm, the Sky Breeder, his presence as cold and unyielding as the iron he commanded. Between them lay the "White Barbed Death Match"—a chaotic web of invisible, razor-sharp iron wires that hummed with a low, predatory vibration. "It beats with the rhythm of a man

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.

"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."

"I don't think," Zoro spat, blood trickling down his arm. He dropped into a low stance, three blades now drawn, the Wado Ichimonji clamped firmly in his teeth. The air around him seemed to thicken, not with mist, but with sheer intent. "I know."