How long had this slaughter gone on... a month? Two months? Or perhaps years?
The corpses of those monsters had piled into nine towering mountains, rising so high they seemed to pierce the clouds.
"A hundred million strikes, a hundred million strikes, a hundred million strikes..."
Standing atop one of those corpse mountains, Roronoa Zoro exuded a terrifying, blood-soaked aura, like an Asura crawling out of hell itself. He had long since lost all sense of time.
Relentless, high-intensity slaughter left him no space to think. It had been far too long since he had paused to reflect on anything at all.
Kill.
That was all that remained in his mind. The next strike, and where it should fall.
He no longer questioned why the monsters had gradually changed. At some point, their grotesque forms began resembling humans more and more.
They continued to pour endlessly from the edge of the world, their bodies cloaked in black, demonic energy. Aside from that, they were nearly indistinguishable from ordinary people.
Boom!
A slash infused with killing intent tore through a group of snarling, clawing humanoid monsters, blasting them apart into fragments that tumbled down the mountain of corpses.
"Kill."
Zoro moved purely on instinct, endlessly swinging the crimson blade in his hand.
"Kill."
The three swords he wielded were drenched in blood, their surfaces coated in a deep scarlet Busoshoku Haki. The color was so intense it looked as though it had been drawn directly from the blood in his veins.
Atop the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood, the demon-like swordsman suddenly lifted his head. His black and red eyes burned with madness as he stared at the crimson world before him.
His hoarse voice echoed across the battlefield.
"KILL!"
"Everyone must die!"
"Only slaughter can save everything!"
The desire to kill had devoured everything within him.
The endless surge of killing intent erased all memory.
The promise he once made as a child, to become the world's greatest swordsman.
His bond with the Straw Hat Pirates.
Everything.
At his waist, the cursed blade known as Sandai Kitetsu remained sheathed, untouched. It had not been drawn once throughout the entire slaughter, nor stained with a single drop of blood.
It hung there silently, as if forgotten.
"Endless slaughter will stain a swordsman's heart beyond redemption."
From within the darkness, a pair of blood-red eyes gazed down coldly at the puppet-like swordsman trapped in this dream world.
"Shirogai, another one of your companions has become a toy in Imu's hands."
The voice carried open disdain.
No matter how strong humans became, they were nothing more than slightly stronger insects.
How could insects ever oppose a god?
The so-called resistance of the world was nothing more than the dying delusion of vermin.
They could only stand their ground now because Shirogai existed among them.
And precisely because of that...
Because of Shirogai's existence...
...a far more perfect plan had been obtained.
A greedy light, deep as the abyss, flickered within the pitch-black figure's eyes.
All the malice, greed, and madness of humanity seemed insignificant compared to the darkness within those scarlet eyes.
It was a level of evil that defied comprehension.
A single glance could drive a strong warrior to slaughter his own family.
A whisper could twist righteous men into demons.
It could corrupt saints, break the virtuous, and drag innocence into depravity.
This was pure evil.
The darkness of the abyss itself.
"No one can contend with Imu."
The figure slowly raised its head. Its voice was distorted, layered, neither male nor female, neither young nor old.
"Even someone like you, Shirogai... cannot escape Imu's grasp."
"When the World Peace Conference begins, this world will fall, and a god will be born."
A faint smile formed.
"To witness the birth of the True God Creator before their deaths... that will be the greatest honor of these vermin."
"Oh?"
A calm, amused voice cut through the darkness.
"I'm curious what you mean by that."
The dark figure paused.
A faint glow emerged, illuminating the void as Shirogai stepped forward, his presence steady and composed.
"You've always called yourself the Creator, haven't you?"
Shirogai smiled slightly.
"The uncrowned ruler of this world for centuries, Imu."
He paused, his gaze sharp.
"Or should I call you by your real identity?"
A faint shimmer of light flickered around him.
"The one whose name exists, yet remains unknown to all."
Shirogai's eyes locked onto the shadowy figure.
"The user of the Hito Hito no Mi, Model: Demon."
A slight smile curved on his lips.
"The Demon King... Imu."
===
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