Uchiha Puppet Master, Starting from One Piece.

He was wearing a black leather jacket, which was open, revealing his hairy chest underneath.

He held a gun in his right hand; the gun was so big that it could fit an adult's fist.

The gun was engraved with intricate patterns, and a purple liquid, like some kind of venom, flowed from the gaps in the patterns.

He held a knife in his left hand. The knife was very long, at least two meters long, and purple liquid was flowing from its blade.

He had a small bottle hanging from his waist, filled with a green liquid that swirled around inside, as if it were alive.

"Pandemic" Quinn.

The Beasts Pirates' main signboard.

A monster with a bounty of 1.32 billion Berries.

He walked over to the fallen deserters, glanced down at them, and a smile spread across his face.

"Tsk tsk tsk, they really don't listen."

His voice was hoarse and deep, as if he were complaining, yet also as if he were enjoying it.

"I already told you, you're not allowed to run away."

He raised his right foot and stomped on a deserter's head, grinding it hard. The deserter's head exploded like a watermelon, splattering blood and brain matter all over the ground.

"The price of running away is death."

His grin widened, and the cigar fell from his lips, landing in the pool of blood with a hiss before going out.

The girl frowned even more as she watched this scene.

Who are you?

Her voice was still soft, but there was a hint of coldness in it; clearly, Artoria disliked this kind of person.

Quinn looked up at her, a hint of curiosity flashing in his small eyes behind his sunglasses.

"Oh, that's exactly what I was going to ask you."

He picked up a new cigar, lit it with a lighter, took a deep drag, and exhaled a smoke ring.

"Little girl, who are you? Dressed like a knight, are you cosplaying?"

The girl did not answer.

She simply gripped the sword tighter, and the wind whistled faster across its blade.

Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly.

"wind?"

He squinted, carefully examining the sword enveloped in the wind.

“Interesting, your sword… is no ordinary sword.”

He paused, then exhaled a smoke ring.

Are you an ability user? Or a swordsman? Or both?

The girl still did not answer.

She simply stood there, sword in hand, looking at him, her eyes as calm as a still lake.

Quinn's lips curled into a smile.

"You're not going to tell, are you?"

He raised the gun in his hand and pointed it at the girl's chest.

"It's okay, I don't need to know your name."

His finger pulled the trigger.

"Because the dead don't need names."

The bullet flew out of the gun barrel with a sharp whistling sound, heading straight for the girl's chest.

That bullet wasn't an ordinary bullet.

Its warhead was coated with a purple liquid that evaporated in the air, emitting a strange, sweet smell.

That's poison.

The Poison of "Plague" Quinn.

The girl watched the bullet flying towards her, her eyes remaining calm.

She gently raised her sword, and wind surged from the blade, forming a wall of wind in front of her.

The bullet struck the wind wall with a muffled thud.

But this time, the bullet didn't fall to the ground.

It stopped in front of the wind wall, suspended in mid-air, spinning at high speed.

The purple liquid on the warhead evaporated under the impact of the wind wall, turning into a cloud of purple mist that drifted toward the girl's face.

The girl's brows furrowed slightly.

She swung her sword suddenly, and a burst of wind erupted from the blade, scattering the bullet along with the purple mist.

Quinn's eyes widened suddenly.

"Are you controlling the wind? The Wind-Wind Fruit?"

The girl did not answer.

She simply gripped the sword tightly, the wind flowing over its blade, producing a low rumble.

Quinn's lips curled into a smile.

"Interesting, really interesting."

He threw away the gun in his hand and picked up the long knife in his left hand.

"If guns won't work, then we'll use knives."

His body suddenly lunged forward at an astonishing speed, completely unlike a three-meter-tall, several-hundred-pound fat man.

In three seconds, he rushed to the girl's side.

The long sword swung down suddenly, aiming for the girl's head.

The purple liquid flowing from the blade traced an arc in the air, leaving a trail of purple afterimages.

The girl did not dodge.

She raised her sword and blocked the blow.

The swords clashed with a loud bang, sparks flying everywhere.

Quinn was so powerful that the ground beneath the girl's feet cracked, sending stones flying in all directions.

But Artoria's sword did not tremble.

Her arms did not tremble.

Her body did not tremble.

She stood there steadily, blocking Quinn's knife with her sword, without budging an inch.

Quinn's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Little girl, you're quite strong."

A smile spread across his lips, a smile tinged with cruelty.

"But is being strong useful?"

He abruptly withdrew his knife, then swung it out again.

This time, it wasn't a single cut.

It was ten cuts.

Ten swords were swung out simultaneously, each aimed at the girl's vital points.

Head, neck, chest, abdomen, waist, arms, and legs.

Each strike was as fast as lightning, and each strike was as heavy as a thousand pounds.

The girl's eyes remained calm.

Her body began to move.

No, it's not moving.

It's dance.

Her body weaved through Quinn's flashing blades, like a white butterfly fluttering in a purple storm.

Her sword twirled in her hand, each twirling precisely deflecting Quinn's strike.

A knife.

Two cuts.

Three knives.

Four cuts.

Five cuts.

Six cuts.

Seven cuts.

Eight cuts.

Nine cuts.

Ten cuts.

After ten cuts, the girl had no wounds left on her body.

There wasn't a single scratch on her armor.

There wasn't a single crack on her sword.