At The Peak of One Piece

From the next day onward, Victor frequently tested his blade on animals at the forest's edge. He discovered he couldn't pierce the defense of large creatures, while smaller, sleeker animals moved swiftly but had much weaker defenses.

Victor knew his sword could cut stone, but often the cuts didn't follow his intent. The harder the rock, the greater the deviation. Cutting trees offered no resistance, making him feel he was on the cusp of a breakthrough—just missing one final piece.

A week later, noticing the firewood was low, Victor ventured deeper into the forest to fell trees. For a swordsman, splitting wood should be as simple as eating or drinking.

His figure darted through the trees. A few flashes later, he reappeared at his starting point. Yubashiri slid back into its sheath with a soft click. A dozen trees, each a meter thick, fell simultaneously. Victor kept only the trunks, discarding the branches. He arranged the logs upright in a circle.

Standing in the center, feet apart in a slight crouch, left hand gripping the sheath, right hand on the hilt, Victor drew and sheathed Yubashiri in one fluid motion. A circle of light flashed. Every log was instantly cut into identical lengths, stacked into neat, uniform blocks.

Satisfied, Victor gathered vines, bundling each pile. He carried two bundles at a time back to the cabin, quickly moving the entire stack.

Returning for the last two bundles, Victor paused. He glanced back at the clearing. His eyes widened. The ground was crisscrossed with deep slash marks. In that single glance, he understood what he'd lacked.

His swordsmanship possessed power. It had cut the wood cleanly, yet it also scarred the earth. That meant poor control—energy wasted. If he could contain all that power within the blade itself... would that allow him to cut steel?

The realization struck him. 'Zoro... in Alabasta, at death's door... he grasped this too.' Victor recalled Zoro's desperate fight against Mr. 1. Zoro had concentrated every ounce of his will into his swords, used Kenbunshoku Haki to evade Mr. 1's attacks, and unleashed the full force of his technique solely onto his enemy. That focus had shattered steel and won the battle.

Victor hurried back to the cabin, dropped the wood, and sat cross-legged inside, consolidating his insight.

He pondered deeply, combining Koshiro's teachings and Zoro's example. Concentrating sword intent into the blade itself—that was the final step, the prelude to the strike. But how to achieve that concentration?

Koshiro's words echoed: "A great swordsman's blade is the power to protect what he wishes to protect... and cut what he wishes to cut."

What did that mean? Translated: 'Control your blade utterly. Let it feel your emotions and thoughts. Make it incapable of cutting paper, or capable of severing steel. Harmonize your heart with the sword in your hand.' It sounded almost mystical. Victor interpreted it as belief. Use belief to concentrate the sword's intent. To cut steel, release the belief capable of generating the necessary sword intent. It felt like intense self-suggestion—faith made manifest.

His previous world held many such examples. Here, self-suggestion yielding such tangible power felt fantastical, yet undeniable. Belief alone wasn't enough, though. Physical strength remained indispensable.

Zoro had declared before striking Mr. 1: "You won't cut me again. Now we'll see if I have the power... to cut steel!" That proved power's necessity. Kaido's words summarized it perfectly: "When your heart catches up to your body's strength... that is what allows one to cut steel."

Victor had another layer of understanding. Sword intent could also be seen as "Sword Aura"—a term from his past life that felt apt. Sword Aura, Blade Aura. Each swing released Sword Aura from the blade. The marks on the ground proved it. This aura was unfocused, a mere extension of the swing, unrefined, dissipating without purpose. It was wasted energy.

Having grasped the essence of Cutting Steel, Victor began focused training anew. Training focused on the heart.

Victor adjusted his daily routine—morning meditation, afternoons spent in the forest testing his progress against beasts stronger than himself, hunting enough food for the day, and replacing sleep with seated meditation at night. 

His improvement was rapid. The stray sword energy around him diminished, while the power of his techniques grew sharper. Many creatures that once shrugged off his attacks now ended up as his meals. The spiritual essence within their flesh brought him an unexpected boon—his body's defenses grew even tougher. 

Unlike Zoro, who had his "moment of enlightenment to cut steel," Victor's path wasn't as straightforward. It wasn't that Zoro's talent surpassed his—at this stage, Victor's raw strength far exceeded Zoro's during the Alabasta arc. What he lacked was the power of the heart and mastery over the blade. 

Zoro had spent ten years dedicating every thought to the sword. Victor couldn't match that single-mindedness. To him, a blade was just a weapon—he'd never poured his entire being into it. His greed was his flaw—he wanted too much, and his foresight had made him plan for everything at once. 

Before setting sail, Zoro knew nothing of the Six Powers, Devil Fruits, or Haki. That ignorance let him pursue the sword with pure focus—hence all those flashy-named techniques. 

Now, Victor could feel it—his sword energy was on the verge of perfect containment. Steel-cutting was within reach. The weight in his chest was finally lifting. 

--- 

Two days later, Victor ventured deeper into the forest. His target: a creature he'd never once wounded—a black-scaled tyrannosaur, its body sheathed in armor-like hide that gleamed like forged metal. Its fangs were blades, its claws scythes, its spiked tail a wrecking ball. At the island's edge, it was the apex predator. 

A thunderous roar echoed ahead. Victor sprinted toward the sound. 

The beast was mid-meal, tearing into a fresh kill. Victor had no intention of letting it finish—a satiated predator might flee, but a hungry one would fight to the death. He needed its fury to push him past his limits. 

In a flash, Victor leapt, Yubashiri unsheathing mid-air— 

CLANG! 

The blade sparked against its skull. Unharmed, the beast roared, a shockwave shaking the trees. 

Jaws snapped. Victor barely parried, skidding back meters, boots carving trenches into the earth. The creature's raw power was monstrous. 

Yet Victor was faster. Strike after strike, he danced just out of reach—until frustration sharpened the beast's movements. Headbutts. Bites. Claws. Tail sweeps. 

A crushing blow sent Victor flying, ribs cracking as he smashed through ancient trunks. Blood spilled from his lips— 

But he smiled. 

"Almost there." 

Emptying his mind, he abandoned technique. Instinct took over. 

The tyrannosaur charged as Victor staggered upright. This time, he didn't dodge. 

Step. By step. By step. 

They passed each other—yet never collided. As if existing in separate worlds. 

Click. 

Yubashiri slid home in its scabbard. 

Behind him, the beast collapsed, head nearly severed. Its eyes dimmed, brimming with disbelief. 

"I've cut steel." 

Victor's whisper hung in the air, his face eerily calm.