But in the very next second, something even more spine-chilling occurred.
Gern—who had just been cleaved cleanly into two—showed no sign of pain on his face.
No shock. No agony.
And from the two severed halves of his body, not a single drop of blood spilled.
Instead, both halves dissolved into countless pure-white vibration particles, quivering softly as they dispersed—then flowed back together, recombining.
Gern's fully restored body reformed flawlessly. He lowered his gaze, looking down at Zoro—whose strength had been nearly exhausted by that all-out strike, yet whose eyes still remained locked onto him with stubborn defiance.
For the first time, unmistakable admiration surfaced in Gern Reginald Sigmar's eyes.
"Using the island's tilt and the noise and chaos created by the vibrations as cover… pushing your swordsmanship to its absolute limit to catch the exact instant my 'main body' relaxed… and then…"
He paused slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting.
"Betting everything on that single slash. A truly beautiful cut."
Gern brought his hands together and applauded, genuine praise in the sound.
"Roronoa Zoro. I'll remember that name."
"So then…"
Before the echo of his compliment had even fully faded from the air—before anyone could process what they were hearing—the warmth vanished from his expression, replaced instantly by glacial indifference.
"…now it's my turn."
Before the words had fully left his mouth—
"嗡!"
Gern's figure vanished from the spot, as if erased from existence, leaving behind only a rippling distortion where the air itself trembled.
In the next instant, he appeared directly in front of Zoro—who was still stiff and unsteady, his breathing chaotic from unleashing that final attack.
Their faces flashed past each other at point-blank range.
Zoro could clearly see it—
The icy, bone-deep killing intent in Gern's eyes.
At the same time, Gern's left leg lifted high. From his calf down to his foot, everything was compressed to an extreme degree, wrapped in densely packed, high-frequency trembling milky-white vibration particles.
The surrounding air let out a strained, unbearable wail.
"You just now…" Gern's voice dropped into a whisper, like the murmur of the god of death himself.
As he spoke, his left foot descended—faster than thought—hacking straight down toward Zoro's face.
"…were incredibly rude. You know that?"
"砰!!!!!!!"
A thunderous, suffocating boom erupted—as if space itself had been smashed through.
Zoro's pupils shrank violently.
There was no time to block.
No time to dodge.
All he felt was an indescribable terror—an overwhelming force that fused savage physical impact with an eerie, oscillating shock—condensed into a single point and slammed brutally into his face.
"噗—!"
Blood mixed with shattered teeth sprayed violently from his mouth.
His body wasn't kicked away in a simple arc.
Instead, under the impact of that absolute force, it blurred into a streak of afterimage and was hurled backward like a cannon shot.
"嘭——咻!!"
"轰隆!轰隆隆!!"
Zoro's body punched straight through the thick castle wall behind him—without losing momentum.
Then through a second wall.
A third.
In a perfectly straight line, he was driven clean through the entirety of the Thriller Bark ship-island—from one end to the other.
And it wasn't over yet.
After bursting out of the ship's far side, his body still carried terrifying kinetic energy, slamming violently into the ocean below.
The sea surface caved in, forming a massive depression.
Then, like a stone skipping across water, Zoro's body began to ricochet uncontrollably across the sea—bouncing, skidding, crashing again and again.
Each impact sent waves dozens of meters high exploding into the air, carving a horrifying white scar across the still-tilted ocean surface—stretching for hundreds of miles.
At last, when all momentum was finally spent, that green-haired figure—trailing a path of scattered blood—slowly sank into the cold, bottomless depths of the sea.
Silence.
Absolute, deathly silence.
From the moment Gern struck, to the instant Zoro was kicked away—piercing the ship-island, skipping hundreds of miles across the sea, and sinking beneath the waves—
The entire sequence happened in a blink, so fast that thought itself couldn't keep up.
The Straw Hat crew hadn't even had time to feel joy over Zoro's astonishing slash—
Before this cruelty beyond comprehension dragged them straight into the abyss of despair.
Sanji's eyes split wide with rage.
Nami screamed, her voice breaking.
Robin covered her mouth as tears spilled freely.
Chopper burst into tears instantly.
Usopp and Franky collapsed to the ground, their legs giving out beneath them.
Gern slowly lowered his left foot, still standing atop the ruins, gazing down at the Straw Hats trapped in silence and grief below—his eyes detached, indifferent, as if looking at insects.
"Now…" he spoke softly, shattering the suffocating quiet, "…does anyone else want to try?"
Just as his emotionless voice echoed across the ruined battlefield, a figure appeared at Gern's side without warning.
Dracule Mihawk.
The world's greatest swordsman had finally chosen to step in.
He stood between Gern and the Straw Hat crew, his golden eyes fixed on Gern as he spoke in a low voice.
"That's enough, Gern. We should leave."
Without giving Gern a chance to reply, Mihawk's gaze swept across the Straw Hats below—still drowning in grief and despair over Zoro's fate—before returning to Gern, his tone carrying a trace of complexity.
"That slash from Roronoa… was the embodiment of a swordsman's will pushed to its absolute extreme. I respect it."
Then his voice sharpened.
"But it was also, without question, a pure provocation toward a top-tier powerhouse."
"From the moment you revealed yourself, you never truly showed killing intent. Whether it was your interaction with Nami, that exaggerated 'performance,' or even letting Perona's Negative Ghost pass straight through you…"
Mihawk pierced straight through Gern's mindset.
"Your behavior was closer to… play."
"In essence, it wasn't much different from Kuzan's actions outside Enies Lobby—just showing your face, making an impression, or perhaps, in your own way, 'taking a look' at this new generation."
"But—" Mihawk's voice turned cold and severe.
"In front of a supreme powerhouse who controls the entire field, possesses absolute strength, and has never once truly lost composure…"
"That all-out slash—intended to wound you, or even bring you down—crossed a line."
"That was mistaking your 'tolerance' for an 'opening.'"
He looked straight at Gern.
The meaning was obvious.
You only meant to toy with them—establish dominance, satisfy a bit of your own twisted amusement.
But that slash?
In your eyes, it was nothing more than: I gave you face, and you chose to slap it.
And so, as a pinnacle-level existence, your retaliation was a necessary act to preserve your authority. That much, I understand.
But now—
The warning has been delivered.
The punishment has been made clear.
It's time to stop.
Gern listened quietly. The indifference on his face slowly melted away. He clicked his tongue, lips curling slightly—like someone whose thoughts had been read and didn't quite like it.
He really hadn't intended to truly harm these kids—especially considering Garp, Belle-Mère, and Kuzan's (Robin's) connections.
And Zoro's slash was impressive.
But it had also undeniably crossed him.
Gern shrugged. The suffocating pressure around him receded like a withdrawing tide.
He glanced toward the direction where Zoro had sunk, then down at the terrified Straw Hats, and spoke lazily.
"Tch. What a drag. You saw right through me that fast."
He yawned.
"Fine. For your sake, Hawk-Eyes… and since that moss-head brat actually had some backbone—and managed to survive a kick from me…"
His gaze swept the Straw Hat crew once more before settling on the unconscious Luffy. He let out a faint, unreadable chuckle.
"We'll end it here."
"And remember this feeling of helplessness well. If you manage to keep sailing, that is…"
"The New World is far crueler than this."
"I'll be waiting for you."
With that, he stopped paying them any attention. Turning away, he crooked a finger toward Perona, who was still struggling to maintain her floating state.
"Let's go, little ghost."
"If we linger any longer, some overly doting old man is going to lose his patience and come looking for me."