CHAPTER 10 — RAIN OF SWORDS
Names had power.
Not mystical power—direction.
Until now, the technique had been a pattern, a state, a tool without identity. Effective, lethal, expandable. But repetition without definition eventually plateaus. To push
further, it needed structure.
So I named it.
Rain of Swords.
The moment the name settled in my mind, the technique sharpened—not because of emotion, but because clarity breeds refinement. Rain did not strike once. It did not hesitate. It overwhelmed through inevitability.
That was the goal.
BODY FIRST, ALWAYS
Before chasing anything new, I returned to the foundation.
My body.
Every morning began the same way. No ceremony. No stretching rituals meant for comfort. I moved straight into strain.
I ran.
Not along paths, but through terrain meant to slow movement—mud, roots, uneven stone. Observation Haki stayed active, not to avoid obstacles, but to choose the worst
ones. Ankles twisted. Muscles tore microscopically. Bones absorbed repeated impact.
They adapted.
I carried weight while running. Logs. Stones. Scrap metal scavenged from the island. Sometimes Ace tried to race me. Sometimes Sabo followed silently, pacing himself.
I never slowed.
After running came resistance.
Trees became anchors. I pulled against them until bark cracked. I pushed boulders until the ground beneath them shifted. With three arms, leverage changed. Angles opened that shouldn't have existed.
Every movement was deliberate.
Strength without control was useless. Control without endurance was temporary.
I built both.
REDEFINING THE LIMIT
Once my muscles reached exhaustion, I didn't stop.
I transitioned.
Sword forms began immediately—slow at first. Not the Rain of Swords. Basic strikes. Perfect arcs. No wasted motion. Armament Haki flowed lightly, reinforcing tendons and joints rather than the blades.
This wasn't about cutting.
It was about alignment.
Each swing forced my body to stabilize across three points of contact. Core engaged. Legs grounded. Spine balanced. Extra arm no longer felt like an addition—it felt like a necessity.
Only after hours did I allow speed to return.
And only then did Rain of Swords emerge.
Short bursts at first. Never full output. Precision mattered more than volume. The technique had to remain repeatable.
By midday, my body burned constantly—but it wasn't fatigue.
It was capacity expanding.
THE PROBLEM WITH DISTANCE
Close-range domination was solved.
Rain of Swords ended fights the moment distance collapsed. But the world wasn't limited to reach. Guns existed. Throwing weapons. Devil Fruit users who didn't need proximity.
I needed range.
Not thrown blades.
Not brute-force shockwaves.
Something cleaner.
Something that didn't break the logic of swords.
That meant one thing.
Energy slashes.
Not borrowed. Not copied. Not imagined through legend.
Earned.
FIRST ATTEMPTS — FAILURE
I started simple.
One sword.
A single, clean slash.
I poured Armament Haki into the blade and released it outward, attempting to carry the cut beyond the steel's edge.
The result was nothing.
The blade cut air. Air remained air.
No distortion. No projection.
I tried again. More force. More intent.
The backlash numbed my arm, Haki dispersing uselessly.
That told me something important.
Energy slashes were not about power.
They were about continuity.
THE ADJUSTMENT
Instead of forcing energy forward, I stopped the blade early.
Halfway through the swing.
The motion felt wrong at first—unfinished,
incomplete. But Observation Haki caught something subtle: the moment where kinetic energy wanted to continue, but the blade no longer did.
That tension mattered.
I repeated it.
Again.
Again.
My muscles learned where to halt without losing momentum. My wrists adjusted. Grip loosened at the final instant.
On the tenth attempt, the air rippled.
Not visibly.
But I felt it.
A faint resistance, like cutting into thick fog.
Progress.
RAIN APPLIED TO DISTANCE
I integrated the concept into Rain of Swords—not full output, but fragments.
Rapid micro-slashes, each halted just short of completion.
The forest responded differently.
Leaves didn't fall immediately.
They trembled.
Then thin lines appeared across them, as if drawn by an invisible blade. Seconds later,
they split apart.
Not deep.
Not lethal.
But real.
The distance was short—only a few meters.
That was enough.
CONTROL BEFORE POWER
I did not chase range.
I chased consistency.
One slash became five.
Five became ten.
Each energy cut was thin, almost fragile. But they stacked. Overlapped. Intersected.
Just like Rain of Swords.
I realized then that the technique wasn't separate.
Rain of Swords was the framework.
Energy slashes were just another layer.
As my strength grew, the cuts would deepen.
As my arms increased, the angles would multiply.
Nothing needed redesign.
Only refinement.
LIMIT TEST
At sunset, I stood at the edge of a clearing. A thick stone outcrop rose ten meters away—weathered, solid, old.
I exhaled.
Activated Rain of Swords.
But instead of stepping forward, I held position.
Three arms moved in controlled chaos,
blades flashing in short, precise motions. Each slash stopped early, intent carried forward instead of steel.
The air distorted.
Dozens of faint pressure lines surged outward.
The stone did not explode.
It did not shatter.
It was carved.
Hundreds of shallow cuts appeared across
its surface, layered so densely that the rock seemed to sag inward.
A moment later, chunks slid free and collapsed to the ground.
My arms trembled.
Not from failure.
From strain.
I stopped immediately.
That was enough for today.
AFTERMATH
Ace stared at the ruined stone.
"…That was from over there."
Sabo didn't speak. He walked closer, examining the cuts. He knelt, touched the surface.
"These aren't impacts," he said quietly. "They're… slices."
I cleaned my blades. Carefully. Methodically.
Rain of Swords was no longer limited to reach.
Not fully.
Not yet.
But the direction was set.
My body grew stronger each day.
My control grew sharper.
My techniques evolved without excess.
Rain of Swords had become more than a close-range execution.
It was becoming a storm that did not care about distance.
And when I gained more arms—
When my strength deepened—
When my will expanded—
The rain would fall harder.
Relentlessly.
Without mercy.
Without warning.