The sharp, percussive rhythm of steel on steel provided a brutal soundtrack to Bartolomeo's training.
Zoro and Kuro were a blur of motion, their sparring having escalated from a test of skill to a near-lethal dance.
Zoro's Three-Sword Style was a whirlwind of raw power, each swing meant to cleave and crush.
Kuro was a specter of efficiency, his Neko Te claws deflecting and redirecting the onslaught with minimal, precise movements, his feet barely seeming to touch the deck.
Ragnar watched them for a moment longer, a critical eye assessing their limits. "Enough," he said, his voice cutting through the din.
The two combatants broke apart instantly, both breathing heavily, sweat glistening on their skin. Zoro wore a fierce grin, exhilarated.
Kuro adjusted his glasses, his expression unreadable but his body thrumming with the aftermath of the intense exertion.
"Kuro, your speed and technique are exceptional," Ragnar stated.
"But you fight like a duelist. You seek the perfect opening, the single, decisive blow. Against an army, or a monster who doesn't care if they lose an arm, that hesitation will get you killed."
"Watch him. He doesn't fence. He carves. Learn to switch between finesse and butchery." He said as he gestured to Zoro.
Kuro gave a slow, thoughtful nod, filing the critique away.
Ragnar then turned to Zoro. "Your strength is monstrous. But you rely on it. You overwhelm your opponent's guard because you can. Against a Logia like Crocodile, or an Armament Haki user who can match your force, that won't be enough. You need to be faster."
"Not in your feet, but in your mind. Your Observation Haki is good, but make it stronger or you'll never be the World's Greatest Swordsman."
Zoro's grin faded, replaced by a look of intense focus. The challenge had been issued.
"Now," Ragnar said, his gaze sweeping over all three of them. "A practical lesson." He stepped into the center of the deck, his posture shifting from observer to predator. "All three of you. Attack me."
The air crackled with new tension. This was no longer a drill; it was a trial by fire.
Zoro didn't need a second invitation. With a roar, he launched himself forward, Wado Ichimonji, Sandai Kitetsu, and his new sword a gleaming trident of death. "Oni Giri!"
At the same time, Kuro vanished, using his Shakushi technique to appear at Ragnar's blind spot, his claws aimed with silent, deadly precision at the back of his captain's knees.
Bartolomeo, panicking slightly, crossed his fingers. "Barrier!" A large, green wall sprang up not to attack, but to try and cage Ragnar from the front.
It was a coordinated, dangerous assault from three different angles.
Ragnar didn't move to avoid it. He moved to dominate it.
His right hand snapped up, sheathed in jet-black Armament Haki. He didn't parry Zoro's Oni Giri; he caught the three blades in his bare hand, the sound a deafening SCREECH of metal against hardened will.
The force of the blow shook the deck, but the swords stopped dead, trapped in his grip.
His left leg, also sheathed in black Haki, kicked backward without him even looking, his heel meeting Kuro's claw thrust with a brutal CRACK. The impact sent Kuro skidding back across the wood, his arms numb from the vibration.
As for Bartolomeo's barrier, Ragnar simply turned his head and looked at it. He took a single step forward and drove his Haki-clad forehead directly into the green wall.
BOOM!
The unbreakable barrier didn't shatter, but it bent inwards violently under the concussive force before springing back, throwing Bartolomeo off his feet from the psychic feedback.
He landed in a heap, staring in utter disbelief. His ultimate defense had been challenged by a headbutt.
"In a real fight, your enemies will not wait their turn," Ragnar said, his voice calm as he released Zoro's swords, leaving notches in the steel.
"You must be aware of everything. Zoro, you were so focused on your own attack you didn't notice Kuro's position. Kuro, you assumed my attention was on Zoro. Bartolomeo, you reacted to what you saw, not what you felt."
He looked at each of them in turn, his golden eyes burning with intensity.
"Crocodile will not fight fair. He will use the sand, the sun, your thirst, and your fear. He will send his agents to divide you, to pick you off. Your individual strength means nothing if you cannot fight as a single entity. My entity."
He cracked his neck, the lesson clearly not over.
"Again. And this time, try to actually hit me."
The command hung in the air, a gauntlet thrown onto the sweat-slicked deck. Zoro, Kuro, and Bartolomeo picked themselves up, their previous assault having been brushed aside with contemptuous ease.
This time, there was no hesitation, no individual charge. A silent, grim understanding passed between them. They had to synchronize.
Zoro took the center again, but his approach was different. He didn't roar; he breathed, his three swords held in a low guard, his eyes narrowed not just on Ragnar, but on the space around him.
Kuro didn't vanish. Instead, he began to move in a wide, circling pattern, his footsteps silent, his Neko Te claws held ready.
He wasn't looking for a single opening; he was creating a net of pressure, forcing Ragnar to split his attention.
Bartolomeo, his fanatical loyalty overriding his shock, stayed back. His fingers were crossed, but no barrier appeared.
His brow was furrowed in intense concentration, his eyes closed as he tried to recapture that fleeting "feeling" Ragnar had spoken of, the sense of calm perception, of reading intent before it became action.
It was Zoro who moved first, not with a named technique, but with a swift, testing lunge. As he did, Ragnar's left hand began to shift, coated in black Haki, to intercept.
That was the signal.
"Barrier: Pistol!" Bartolomeo's eyes snapped open. Instead of a large wall, a small, dense, fist-sized barrier materialized directly in the path of Ragnar's blocking arm. THWACK! It wasn't meant to hurt Ragnar, but to disrupt his parry for a fraction of a second.
It worked. Ragnar's block was momentarily halted, his eyebrow lifting in slight surprise.
That was all the opening Kuro needed. He didn't aim for a vital spot. He used his Shakushi to appear at Ragnar's side, his claws sweeping low in a scything motion aimed at the captain's ankles, a purely disruptive, unbalancing attack.
Simultaneously, Zoro, capitalizing on the disrupted block, altered his lunge into a spinning slash, "Tatsumaki!" The whirlwind of steel wasn't at full power, but it was perfectly timed, forcing Ragnar to deal with three distinct threats at once: a blocked sword strike, a destabilizing low sweep, and a swirling vortex of cutting power.
Ragnar's response was a masterpiece of controlled chaos. He let the tiny barrier knock his arm off its original course, using the momentum to instead swing his Haki-clad forearm down to meet Kuro's ankle-sweep, stopping it cold.
At the same time, he pivoted on his back foot, his body flowing like water around the edge of Zoro's Tatsumaki, the wind of the blades whipping at his coat. He was still untouched, but he had been forced to move, to adapt.
He flowed out of the combination and stood before them, a genuine, approving smirk on his face. "Better. You're learning. You used Bartolomeo's disruption, Kuro's misdirection, and Zoro's power in sequence. That is the foundation."
He pointed at Bartolomeo. "You perceived the opening and created a tool, not just a shield. Good." His finger moved to Kuro.
"You sacrificed a killing blow for tactical advantage. That is growth." Finally, he looked at Zoro. "And you… You finally stopped just swinging and started fighting. You felt the rhythm of your crewmates."
The three of them stood panting, the coordinated effort having taken more out of them than any individual attack. But there was a new light in their eyes, the spark of a unified combat unit.
"The desert will test more than your skill," Ragnar said, his voice dropping to a serious tone.
"It will test your endurance, your spirit, your trust in the fighter next to you. What did you just do? That is the only thing that will keep you alive against Crocodile's officers. Remember this feeling."
"Rest. Hydrate. We make landfall at dusk." He said to them as he waved his hand.
As they dispersed, the dynamic on the deck had irrevocably shifted. They were no longer just a collection of powerful individuals on the same ship.
They were beginning to become the terrifying, interconnected limbs of the vortex their captain commanded.