Ryuma gritted his teeth and withstood the impact head-on. His body trembled slightly, but he managed to force Quinn's massive mechanical arm away.
"Die!"
Ryuma roared, triggering the Hundred Dragon Divine Slash.
The blade of the black sword Shusui hummed with built-up power.
In that instant, countless spectral dragons burst forth from the blade, surging straight toward the colossal Apatosaurus—Quinn himself.
Though these dragons radiated a majestic presence, in front of the towering dinosaur form of Quinn, they seemed pitifully small. Hundreds of spectral dragons bit and tore at Quinn's massive form, but it was like tickling a giant—harmless and ineffective.
With a slight twitch of his body, Quinn caused all the sword-energy dragons to vanish, dissolving into nothing but wisps of air.
"Kill!"
Taking a single step back, Quinn swung his mechanical arm again, this time slamming it squarely into Ryuma's stomach.
Ryuma couldn't resist. His body was sent flying like a ragdoll.
Boom!
With a loud crash, Ryuma was smashed deep into a pile of boulders.
Quinn grinned, watching from above as he reverted to his normal form. Shaking his head, he said smugly,
"With a tiny frame like that, you never stood a chance against me. Put on the Seastone handcuffs and surrender."
But before Quinn could celebrate any further, Ryuma emerged from the rubble, staggering to his feet.
If he had full control of the Shadow-Shadow Fruit, the fight might be different. But with his shadows already split and spread out unlocking prison cells, it was incredibly difficult to focus on the battle while maintaining control over them.
He sighed inwardly in frustration.
He hadn't come here intending to defeat Quinn. If he had, he would've fully prepared for an all-out fight.
"Oh? Still not giving up, huh?" Quinn narrowed his eyes, his voice darkening. He had already decided—no more holding back.
But Ryuma smirked with a touch of devilish charm.
"Come on, then. Who's afraid of you?"
Just as the words left his mouth, the cracked wall of Udon Prison suddenly gave way, the fissure widening dramatically.
Ryuma instinctively turned around—and his heart sank.
Great. Just great.
Jack and King had arrived too.
Fighting one of them had already pushed him to the limit. Now with three? That was basically suicide.
He had already crossed swords with Jack. But this was his first time seeing King in person—and he was even stranger-looking than in the anime.
Among the Three Calamities, King was the most well-proportioned, tall and muscular.
No one knew what he truly looked like beneath his mask. Clad in black from head to toe, he wore a mask, visor, and a helmet, with black feathered wings extending from his back. Black gloves covered his hands—no skin was visible at all. He was wrapped so tightly he reminded Ryuma of a mummy.
King had ornamented bracers and greaves, a massive sword hanging from his waist, and flames eerily flickering around his body. Whether those flames were due to his clothing or some fire-based Devil Fruit, Ryuma couldn't say—but it was certainly unusual.
As for the sword at King's side—its make was unknown, but one thing was clear: this was no ordinary blade. Not something just anyone could wield.
King stared coldly at Ryuma, disappointment in his eyes.
"So this is the legendary Ryuma? I'm not impressed…"
"That's him alright," Jack added, voice bitter. "He's the one who used Conqueror's Haki to knock everyone out… and messed up my hair."
His tone was so aggrieved, he sounded more like a whining housewife than a brutal pirate.
Quinn twitched at the corner of his mouth.
"Jack, maybe you're just weak… Look at him now. I already beat him half to death."
He beamed with pride.
But Jack stayed silent.
Something wasn't adding up…
In theory, Quinn and Jack were roughly equal in strength—sometimes one had the edge, sometimes the other. Yet Ryuma had overpowered him… so why was Ryuma now being beaten so badly by Quinn?
Was it because his morale plummeted after learning Ryuma's identity?
Ryuma held Shusui tightly, glaring at the three of them as he shouted,
"I am Ryuma, the Dragon-Slaying Samurai! I've never lost a battle in my life. Taking on the three of you at once? Easy—like slicing through tangled weeds! Come at me together, if you dare!"
The Three Calamities exchanged glances, their expressions dark.
"Hmph… Looks like this brat doesn't take us seriously," Jack said coldly.
"In that case, let's teach him a lesson," King added.
In an instant, King vanished—his speed too fast for the eye to follow. He drew the massive sword from his waist, clashing directly against Ryuma's Shusui.
At the moment their blades collided, Ryuma felt a chill run down his spine—King's sword was unbelievably heavy. Just as he'd suspected, that blade was not something an ordinary person could even wield.
The force sent Ryuma flying backward.
He knew now, without a doubt—he couldn't win this fight alone.
All he could do was hope to finish unlocking all the prison cells… then recall his shadow in time to survive.
"One more minute… Just hold on a little longer. Less than a minute, and it'll be enough!"
Ryuma muttered desperately, pushing himself to endure. All he needed was to survive for one more minute.
High above, Jack looked at the airborne Ryuma and sneered.
"Haha… Seems I've been overestimating this guy all along!"
With that, Jack transformed into a massive mammoth, letting out a thunderous roar. The soundwave exploded outward with such force that even Ryuma, though still at a distance, felt his ears ringing.
Ryuma took a deep breath, staring down the charging beast.
It was fine now…
The last prison cell—had finally been opened!
At that moment, Jack's massive trunk swept upward, clutching a curved blade and slashing fiercely at Ryuma's abdomen.
"Ha! I don't care how tough this Ryuma thinks he is—steel bones or iron skin, he's going to die right here!" Jack bellowed with laughter.
"Hmph… What 'Dragon-Slaying Samurai'? Just a piece of trash from a few hundred years ago," King scoffed coldly, exhaling slowly. "Even if he's really come back from the dead, he's nothing worth mentioning."
But then—Ryuma moved.
He stirred, slowly rising to his feet, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"He… How is he standing back up?" Jack stammered, eyes wide with disbelief. He looked again at Ryuma's abdomen, where he had landed his strike.
It was clear.
Only the fabric of Ryuma's white kimono was torn. Other than that—no wound at all.
Not a single drop of blood.
"No… Impossible!" Jack gasped, drawing in a sharp breath. By all rights, anyone struck by that attack should be bleeding out, slowly dying in agony.
How had this man survived it?
Panic began to swirl in Jack's chest.
His confidence crumbled, replaced by disbelief and dread.