After his continuous attacking, Mr. One finally stopped for a moment and looked at Gojo, who stood there completely unharmed. Looking at him, Mr. One said, "How is this possible? Why are my attacks not reaching him at all? If my attacks never reach him, then technically he is invincible. In a sense, he is just like me. Just like how my body is completely made of steel due to my Devil Fruit, the Dice-Dice Fruit, and I am invincible… similarly, he is also invincible."
As soon as Gojo heard this, a slow smile appeared on his face. A light breeze stirred his white hair as he tilted his head slightly and said, "Did you just say that you are invincible and no one can harm you?"
While saying this, Gojo's hand reached behind his back where his sword rested. His fingers wrapped around the handle, and with a smooth, deliberate motion, he unsheathed it. A pure black blade slid into view, its surface absorbing the sunlight rather than reflecting it. The members of Baroque Works felt the atmosphere shift.
As soon as Mr. One saw the sword, his eyes narrowed. "Is this… a black blade?"
"Yes, it is," Gojo replied calmly.
Mr. One still looked composed, though his gaze sharpened. "It seems that this black blade has given you some sort of illusion that you can harm me with it. Go ahead. Give your best shot."
Gojo held the sword loosely at his side, his expression unchanged. "You are not worthy of my best shot."
The words cut deeper than any blade.
Mr. One's jaw tightened, but before he could even respond, Gojo had already disappeared. A faint gust of wind marked his movement. In the next instant, he appeared behind Mr. One. Now standing before him were Miss Doublefinger, Mr. 2, Mr. 3, Miss Goldenweek, and the other Baroque Works members, their eyes widening in disbelief.
Gojo swung his sword casually toward the ground. The sound was almost too soft to register.
A thin line of red traced through the air.
Blood splashed onto the sand-covered ground.
And as soon as Gojo completed that simple motion, Mr. One's body trembled. A deep cut opened across his chest, and he fell forward, blood spurting from the wound before staining the sand beneath him. The metallic scent filled the air.
For a heartbeat, there was complete silence.
Seeing this, all the Baroque Works members were shocked.
Miss Doublefinger's voice broke through first. "What? How is this possible? Mr. One can never be injured. His body is literally a sword. How can he be cut by a sword?"
The others were equally stunned, their eyes fixed on Mr. One's fallen form. Miss Doublefinger knew him better than anyone—she was his partner. She had seen him fight countless times. She knew the sound his body made when they struck, the way enemies' weapons shattered against his steel body. As long as they had been partners, Mr. One had never been injured.
Impossible… this cannot be real.
Her anger flared instantly.
Without hesitation, she activated her move—Double Stinger.
Both of her hands transformed into sharp spikes, gleaming under the sun. As the user of the Spike-Spike Fruit, she could turn any part of her body into spikes, and now her arms were fully weaponized. In rapid succession, she lunged forward and began stabbing toward Gojo.
With his Limitless, Gojo could easily take all of these attacks without them ever reaching him. The invisible space between them would stop every strike before contact. None of Miss Doublefinger's attacks could ever truly touch him.
But to maintain his reflexes and rhythm in battle, Gojo decided to dodge instead.
The moment her spikes thrust forward, Gojo shifted.
He moved swiftly, almost playfully, his body gliding from one position to another in rapid succession. Each stab sliced through empty air. Sand scattered beneath their feet as Miss Doublefinger increased her speed, stabbing again and again, the sharp tips whistling through the air.
Gojo moved with effortless ease.
Every needle-like attack fell short.
Not a single strike reached him.
Knowing that Gojo was too nimble for her to hit, Miss Doublefinger decided to use another trick. Her eyes hardened as she activated her move—Spike-Spike Doping.
The fingers of both her hands turned into sharp spikes before she stabbed them into her own shoulders. A sickening crunch echoed faintly as the spikes pierced in. Immediately after that, both her arms began to enlarge, muscles swelling unnaturally as veins bulged beneath her skin. Within seconds, her arms became extremely muscular and covered in protruding spikes, turning them into monstrous weapons.
Without wasting even a second, Miss Doublefinger charged toward Gojo and punched at him with her newly doped, spiky arms. The air itself seemed to split under the force of her strike.
Gojo calmly raised his left hand, coating his palm with Armament Haki. The invisible layer hardened over his skin like black steel. He caught her massive spiked fist mid-punch, stopping it completely. The impact sent a ripple through the sand beneath their feet.
Her eyes widened.
In the same instant, Gojo's right hand moved.
His black blade flashed once.
A deep slash tore across Miss Doublefinger's stomach. Blood burst forth, staining her clothes and dripping heavily onto the sand. She gasped, the strength leaving her limbs.
Gojo didn't even look at her properly. With one casual motion, as if discarding something insignificant, he threw her away.
Miss Doublefinger's body flew backward like a rag doll and collided violently with a nearby house. The sheer force behind Gojo's effortless throw was immense—the wooden structure cracked and collapsed upon impact. Dust exploded into the air as beams and debris fell, burying her beneath the rubble.
After dealing with Miss Doublefinger, Gojo shifted his attention to Mr. 2 and Mr. 3, who had already regained his footing. The battlefield had grown strangely quiet again, save for the crackling of broken wood and the distant groans of the injured.
At that moment, Miss Goldenweek said in frustration, "Dammit, this Gojo Satoru is covering his eyes with a blindfold. If he were looking at his surroundings, I could have used my painting to create illusions."
Now, it was only up to Mr. 2 and Mr. 3—and the remaining Baroque Works members—to deal with Gojo.
Mr. 3's expression had completely changed. The earlier confidence was gone. He knew very clearly that Gojo might be totally out of their league. They were definitely not a match for him in a direct fight.
We cannot defeat him head-on.
So he decided on another strategy—to wear Gojo down.
Turning to Mr. 2, Mr. 3 said urgently, "We should immediately retreat from here and let the other Baroque Works members deal with him. Even if they won't be able to injure him in the slightest, at the very least they can consume his stamina. Maybe at that time, we will have a chance."
Mr. 2 nodded after hearing this. Without arguing, both Mr. 2 and Mr. 3 began retreating from the frontline. Miss Goldenweek followed closely behind them.
Before leaving completely, Mr. 3 shouted loudly, "All of you, immediately attack this man! Whoever can injure him will be rewarded with five million Berries!"
As soon as Mr. 3's voice fell across the battlefield, the remaining Baroque Works members were instantly fired up. Greed flashed in their eyes. Five million Berries was no small amount.
They began rushing toward Gojo in a frenzy, like hyenas that had smelled blood.
Now, Gojo, who stood before them, was no longer just an enemy. He was a prize. A stepping stone to wealth.
Seeing the crowd charging at him, weapons raised and faces twisted with determination, Gojo simply smiled faintly.
"Let's just see how much of my stamina you can make me burn."
He had already understood Mr. 3 and Mr. 2's strategy. They wanted to exhaust him. But he decided to play along. He also wanted to see—if he fought at his finest—just how much stamina he could preserve.
Using his Observation Haki and his swordsmanship—currently perhaps only below top-tier characters like Mihawk or some of the strongest commanders of the Emperors—Gojo stepped forward.
His movements were fluid.
With the perception granted by his Observation Haki, his Six Eyes, and his refined swordsmanship, he moved like he was dancing through chaos. Every breath around him, every shift in muscle, every swing of a weapon was already predicted.
A casual turn.
A precise swing.
A blade tracing across a neck.
A sudden stab to the stomach.
A rotation.
A swift kick to the side of someone's neck—bones cracking under the impact.
Sand scattered with each step. Bodies fell one after another.
It looked like he was treating these Baroque Works members as trash—but they were not. Clearly, anyone under Baroque Works possessed considerable strength, far beyond that of ordinary pirate crews.
But Gojo was overwhelming them completely.
He leapt onto someone's shoulders, using the man as a stepping point before pushing off into open space. While midair, he performed a clean 360-degree slash. The black blade cut through multiple opponents at once, blood spraying outward in an arc before falling onto the sand.
He landed lightly.
Another thrust—straight through someone's neck.
Another body collapsed.
Dust, blood, and broken weapons littered the ground.
It was no longer a fight.
It was a massacre orchestrated by Gojo.
----
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