Demon-3

Two dozen figures burst into the sky, their dark suits stark against the pale light of the moon. Each wore the emblem of the Straw Hat Pirates and was equipped with a jet pack that roared to life, propelling them towards Zoro.

Zoro, his grip firm around the hilt of his dark-blade Enma, watched them come. His eyes, sharp and calculating, tracked their movements, his body poised for action.

With a sudden burst of energy, Zoro's jet pack ignited, and he shot upwards into the sky. The pirates followed, their light sabers humming with deadly intent.

Then, with a suddenness that caught the pirates off guard, Zoro's jet pack cut out. The momentum carried the pirates forward, their own jet packs propelling them straight into the swordsman's path.

In an instant, Zoro swung Enma, the dark blade slicing through the tough suits of two pirates with an ease that was almost casual. Then, with a burst of energy from his jet pack, he shot up into the air, his blade meeting two more pirates on his ascent.

Four figures dropped from the sky, their descent a stark contrast to the graceful flight they had just been part of. They crashed onto the ground below, their jet packs flickering out.

Against the backdrop of an indigo twilight, the silhouettes of the remaining Straw Hat Pirates became increasingly clear. Their jet packs, like stars, blazed a trail toward Zoro. His own jet pack, now dormant, hung like a dormant dragon on his back.

With an instinct as sharp as his sword, Zoro anticipated their trajectory. He waited, suspended mid-air, his grip on Enma firm.

Suddenly, with a roar that split the clouds, his jet pack erupted into life. Zoro lunged forward, his speed an inky blur against the starlit sky. The pirates scattered, their formation broken, but it was too late.

Enma, now a black lightning bolt in Zoro's hands, found its mark. One, two, three pirates were cut down, their armored suits offering little resistance. Their descent was swift, their landing, a cacophony of metal and earth.

Zoro ascended higher, his figure illuminated by the moonlight. He was a solitary warrior against a constellation of adversaries, and they fell from the sky. It was like seeing a shooting star shower.

The sky was filled with the roar of engines and the scream of missiles. Two projectiles had been launched, their red trails searing the twilight sky. Zoro, strapped to his jetpack, moved through the air with a speed that belied the calm in his eyes.

The missiles followed him, their homing systems locked onto his jetpack's heat signature. Zoro glanced over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight of the incoming projectiles.

In a swift movement, Zoro unstrapped the jetpack from his back, leaving it to hover in the sky as he dropped towards the earth. The missiles, still locked onto the jetpack, slammed into it and exploded in a burst of fire and smoke.

Zoro descended rapidly, his body streamlined as he cut through the air. He landed on a moving truck, the impact cratering the metal roof. He landed in a crouch, one hand braced against the crushed metal, the other gripping the hilt of his sword. He rose slowly, his eyes scanning the horizon.

A sea of figures stretched before him, an army of powerful pirates and marines ready for battle. Thousands of guns were pointed at him, the barrels gleaming ominously in the dying light. His gaze swept over the watchtowers, their massive machine guns and missile launchers aimed squarely at him.

Watchtowers loomed over the scene, their massive machine guns aimed at him. Missile launchers pivoted on their bases, their deadly payloads aimed at his position. The magnitude of the forces arrayed against him was staggering.

His eyes scanned the army below, his gaze as sharp as the blade in his hand.

***

Nami's sharp eyes, and her gaze fixed on Hiyori. "I knew all along," she said, her voice carrying an undertone of certainty, "that kid belonged to him."

Hiyori recoiled, shock etched on her face as she took two steps back. Baccarat's eyes were wide, her face a mask of terror. The news seemed to have plunged her into a state of trauma.

"I leaked the info to Yamato," Nami continued, her voice steady. "I allowed the brand to be granted because I knew he would be there. I planned everything." She raised her hand, a gesture of admission and defiance.

Behind her, the screen flickered to life. Zoro was there, standing on the truck, Enma clasped in his hand. His figure looked even more formidable against the fiery backdrop of the sky from which he had descended. "I wanted him to go against the brand," Nami said, her voice tinged with admiration. "But he did better. He chose to rage safezone. He's still as unpredictable as ever."

"Now he's done it," declared Nami, her voice resonating through the room. "Monkey D. Luffy won't stay quiet."

"No one there can defeat him," she said, her words ringing with conviction. "He is"

"The right-hand man of the Pirate King."

"Demon of the pirate world."

"The strongest swordsman in the world."

"The slayer of the Great Elders."

Her grin widened, her eyes shone with a fierce pride as she made her final declaration. "The King of Hell, Roronoa Zoro!!"

***

Rax, a pirate with a bounty of 300 million, stood before Zoro with his crew. His eyes were hard, his expression steely. "You have run out of luck," he declared.

With a sudden burst of energy, Rax launched himself into the air. His body morphed, contorting into the shape of a zoan as he lunged at Zoro, a predatory gleam in his eyes. But Zoro was quicker, his movements a blur. The sharp edge of Enma found Rax's throat, cutting through it with a swift, precise stroke. The pirate landed heavily on Zoro's shoulder, a look of shock frozen on his face.

With a casual shrug of his shoulder, Zoro let Rax's limp body slide off and fall to the ground below. It landed with a heavy splash, the impact sending a wave of dust and debris into the air.

From his pocket, Zoro pulled out the sunglass. He put them on slowly, each movement deliberate and cool. The sunglasses transformed his appearance, adding an air of mystery and allofness.

Then he took a step forward, his boots crunching on the gravel beneath him. His silhouette stood stark against the dying light. The suit, as black as the night itself, clung to his muscular frame, highlighting his formidable physique. 

His dark-blade Enma, gleaming ominously, was clasped firmly in his hand. The sunglasses hid his eyes, but the set of his jaw and the tilt of his head spoke volumes. His long silky hair tied to a manbun and his sword dripped with blood.