Naruto: Unlocking Kaido Template

Zixu laughed maniacally as he swung the mace. In his hands, the incredibly dense weapon felt like a mere wooden stick—but one that could pulverize a man in a single strike.

Forget Kozuki Oden's strange abilities for a moment—the two blades in his hands were powerhouses in their own right. After all, they were both supreme-grade swords: Ame-no-Habakiri and Enma. Even Zoro had turned into a sword rack thanks to Enma's immense power.

Though Zixu's strikes packed monstrous force, they were blocked each time by Oden's twin blades. These swords felt alive in Oden's hands, and his attacks were unpredictable and relentless.

Their Haki clashed—will against will—but Zixu easily suppressed it each time. He soon noticed something: perhaps Oden had long lost the qualifications to be a true king. His Haki was weak, almost nonexistent.

"What right do you have to fight me now? With that pathetic excuse for Haki you've got left? Don't make me laugh, Oden. No matter where you go... you'll always be a loser."

Zixu's taunts made Kozuki Oden hesitate for just a moment. Normally, his heart wouldn't waver—but now he thought of his wife, his son, his daughter, and his father...

To destroy someone, you couldn't just kill their body—you had to crush their spirit too. And Zixu wasn't about to waste this golden opportunity. It was the perfect time to recall the past.

"Your father... that old puppet maker. After you died, he hid away, creating puppets in some deluded effort to curse the Beasts Pirates to death. As for actual resistance... well, if doing absolutely nothing counts as resistance..."

More and more wounds opened up across Oden's body as the Devouring Release (Shokuryō Kaihō) continued to eat at his flesh. Whenever his defenses dropped, black flames and lightning hovered like hunting dogs, ready to tear flesh away in chunks.

Zixu paused briefly, as if digging through memories.

"And your son? Still a weak, pathetic brat. But I'll give him one thing—he's got your taste for women. Lustful even at that age. Then again, it runs in the family—you've been prowling brothels since you were a kid, haven't you?"

Oden's expression twisted in shock. At first, he thought Zixu was just playing psychological games. But when Zixu mentioned things that weren't public knowledge, Oden realized—this man knew far too much about him.

The dread in his chest grew. His powers couldn't affect the physical world much—but they could distort illusion and fantasy.

"I know you're feeling anxious. Just hear me out first," Zixu said casually, the blood on his body having dried from the heat. He cracked his neck, muscles flexing and shattering the scabs as he continued.

"Your daughter's doing great—she's the oiran of Wano now. That should ring a bell, right? Since you practically lived in pleasure houses."

At those words, Oden's defense faltered. His breathing grew ragged. His eyes tinged red.

"If you still believe that old fairytale about geishas selling their art but not their bodies... want me to shatter that illusion for you?" Zixu's words, like his attacks, were merciless. Once he spotted a weakness, he went in for the kill—relentlessly.

"Oden, wake up. You're not stupid. Oh, and here's another tidbit I forgot—your precious daughter's been serving Kurozumi Orochi faithfully for twenty years. That bastard probably didn't expect her to be so obedient. No resistance. None."

The black lightning crackled like a charging engine. Oden stood frozen, like he'd been struck by thunder. His mind blanked.

"Your daughter has spent these two decades doing nothing but learning how to play instruments and sing. This is the result of you telling them to stop fighting, to wait for a 'prophecy.' No rebellion. Just peaceful submission. Right, Kozuki Oden?"

Zixu's onslaught intensified, swinging the mace with increasing speed. Activating Eight Gates of Inner Armor (Hachimon Kaihō) and Sage Mode (Sennin Mōdo), he moved like a black storm, his mace leaving dark afterimages in the air.

Something inside Oden finally snapped. He let out a guttural scream. Blood clouded his vision. His swordsmanship fell apart, replaced by desperate, erratic swings. Deep down, he knew—if his family truly obeyed his twenty-year plan, this was indeed the most likely outcome.

"Even Goujian of Wu slept on straw mats and ate bitter herbs to reclaim his kingdom. He got assassinated later, but at least he won back his land. And you... what the hell did you, a general of Wano, protect? Any street kid could tell you to 'just wait twenty years.'"

That was the final blow. Oden's spirit shattered. He didn't give a damn about the people of Wano—that much was clear from how he turned down help from legends like Rayleigh. But his family? That was the dagger in his heart. Zixu didn't even need to say if they were saved—Oden had already accepted that they weren't.

"Hold on a sec... a pervy little brat with a crescent-moon head? Got it..." Zixu ended the call on the Den Den Mushi and turned to Oden, who was barely standing, face pale and broken.

"I've got good news and bad news. Wanna guess?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"Good news: your son, Momonosuke, is still alive..."

Oden's eyes lit up—his heir still lived. Relief surged, but so did anxiety.

"Don't get too happy. He's not dead, no. But he only has his head left. Everything else? Transformed into insects. He can think. He can feel. But he's crawling."

Zixu said it so casually. He had no clue how horrifying his words were.

Oden didn't understand the specifics—but he knew Zixu wasn't lying.

He completely broke.

His sword swings lost all form. He could only flail in rage and despair.

Zixu's lips curled into a bloodthirsty grin. He struck while the enemy's mind collapsed, unleashing Thunderous Bagua: Lake Face (Raiun no Kongō: Mizura) with Haki-charged force.

Oden's eyes rolled back as he was launched backward, crashing like a rag doll.

"He's not just a killer... he destroys hearts too," whispered Crocodile, hidden beneath the sand. Cold sweat dripped from his forehead. He watched the man cloaked in fire and lightning, not daring to breathe.

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