Zoro Four Sword Style Novels & Stories

Four defeated Zayn by kicking his leg and pinning him down to the floor. "You did good" Four said getting off Zayn and gave him hand which he took and got up. they both catch their breaths while looking at the army in front if them training. "Soo how long will to take for me to make my soul weapon?" Zayn asked "i don't know!" Four replied "The war is in less than 48 hours " Zayn said making four turn towards him. "I can only train you the way i was. As for the weapon you have to do it yourself"

No matter how ingenious Zayn’s martial arts skill was, he was nothing in the face of the all-powerful Ezra. “Since you won’t hand it over, go to hell then!” Ezra let out a loud shout while his speed increased a little. The surrounding air was stirred up by his movements before turning into countless vortexes that pulled at Zayn. It felt as if numerous black holes were conjured to slow down Zayn’s movements instantly. Zayn was astonished at once. “What martial arts style is this?” Ezra did not answer Zayn as he threw a punch that landed on Zayn’s shoulder instantly. A crack was heard and Zayn’s shoulder was dislocated from the impact while his entire body was blasted backward.

Zoro shouted. He lifted the broadsword one of his men had left behind with his foot and jumped forward like a leopard, darting toward Kaze. While he was still in mid-air, he raised his arm high and swung the sword down at Kaze’s face with a formidable force. “Kaze Lee, have a taste of my strongest slash!” Zoro peered down at Kaze condescendingly in mid-air as he bellowed with power and confidence. His anger fueled him to make the most powerful slash he had ever made.

The Four Sword Intents of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter. The strong body... The lightning reaction speed... The indomitable and uncompromising fighting style...

He seemed to have heard that name before somewhere, or could it be in someone’s memory? “What’s wrong with Xuri Zomer?” “Xuri Zomer was a kendo expert, whereas Saria Zomer was an expert in swords.” “What do you mean?” “Saria Zomer was obsessed with swords, but she didn’t practice sword arts. She was infatuated with swords themselves. Rumor has it that she once said she wanted to collect all the top three hundred powerful divine swords in the world and bury them here. Hence, this place is called the sword grave!”

The wind blowing from the north was dry but slighty cold. Zedekiel stood in the midst of it, shirtless, his only attire a pair of black trousers that clung to his strong calves. His pale skin glistened with sweat, each muscle rippling beneath as he swung his sword in rapid, precise arcs. His silver hair cascaded down his back like a gleaming waterfall, tendrils sweeping gracefully with every powerful motion.

"H-How?! Ether Lord rank five?! You little—" Zahn's face was filled with shock, but before he could finish, he heard the hum of swords, sending chills down his spine!" Swish! Swish! Swish! Windrider, Windpiercer, Windsearer, and Windblazer! All four swords streaked audibly through the air and headed straight for Zahn's head, neck, heart, and meridian nexus! "Noble grade armor! Up!" Zahn bellowed, a loud rumble ensuing as a yellow shield appeared around him.

Eryndor's Shadowing dagger seemed to dance in the moonlight, its dark blade slicing through the air with a haunting screee-ksss. Each strike landed with a thud-thwack-thoom, sending tremors through the troop's warriors. The troop's hearts raced as the violent zing-ting-zap of clashing daggers filled the field. The savages of warriors, fueled by fury and loyalty, clashed in a frenzy of arms and teeth. The ground grew slick with blood, the earthy smell mingling with the metallic tang of steel. Jack Wolf stood firm, his Moon-whisper spear shining with a soft, ethereal light. He parried Eryndor's strikes with a precision born of desperation, his movements a blur of speed and strength.

Chaos said. The man was a deadly tornado with the twin swords twirling in his hands. He kept on missing the vital parts but his opponent was already bleeding in many parts of his body. Despite being clothed in armor, the hook of his sword was able to squeeze some cuts in the place where the armor can’t cover. Even his fighting style was not that of a knight. It was more like a barbarian whose strikes had no sense of direction. He was just attacking to wound or kill.

Then they all heard a loud laugh outside as there was a loud explosion. “I’ve always wanted to fight stronger beings than myself!”, he said, as his scimitars appeared in his hands. His hands arched in a way that reminded Quinn of those dancers that stood behind each other, moving their hands in wavy nations, to give the illusion that the one in front had six hands, instead of one. A weird thought to have during battle, but there it was. He shook this head and looked at Shiva, who was being sized up by Zoi. All the eyes stopped firing and were looking directly at him. He gave no warning, when he jumped up at Zoi, his hands in offensive positions. One blast hit him, but he blocked with his bla