"Die!"
A guttural roar, laced with spittle, filled the air. Black and white uniforms clashed in a chaotic blur, every fighter swinging their weapons with lethal intent, aiming for vital points without mercy.
Eyes bloodshot.
The clang of metal echoed everywhere.
And the wretched wails of the dying, not yet dead, pierced the din.
Sano Shise was among the last batch of Genji School trainees before the current academy's founding, his grades never stellar.
Now, tempered by war's crucible, he stood as a proud low-ranking officer.
Though only eighteenth seat, he had the honor of leading five subordinates.
But after the latest barrage of arrows, only two still trailed him, charging forward.
Scarlet stains marked Sano's shoulder, left arm, and thigh, soaking his Shihakushō's black fabric.
Yet he seemed oblivious to the pain, his bloodshot eyes fixed ahead, trampling corpses underfoot as he sprinted.
His Zanpakutō's tip aimed at a Quincy soldier drawing a bow.
Whoosh!
A reishi arrow shot toward him.
Sano's lips tightened, instinct guiding his blade to meet the arrow's path.
The edge clipped the arrow's tail, deflecting it slightly, diverting the chest-bound projectile to graze his neck, leaving a deep gash.
Now, Sano closed within meters of his foe.
He drew a deep breath.
Another soldier screamed, thrusting a spear, but Sano slid along the shaft, spinning close, his blade flashing in a whirlwind of two swift strikes, glinting brightly.
Blood sprayed into the air.
But before Sano could catch his breath, a gust howled at his side.
"Sano, eighteenth seat!"
A subordinate shouted a warning.
Sano spun, raising his blade toward the sound.
Clang!
A heavy hammer crashed down.
At his side stood a towering Quincy soldier, over two meters tall.
The man leered at his prey.
"Die, Shinigami!"
Sano struggled to hold his ground, his blade clashing repeatedly with the hammer, sparks flying.
The Shinigami behind him rushed forward, roaring, swinging at the soldier.
But before the blade could connect, a brutal kick to the chest sent him spinning to the ground with a dull thud.
"Oishi!"
Sano's eyes widened, slashing desperately.
But raw strength outmatched courage.
By the end, he staggered back under the hammer's blows, blood seeping from his nose and mouth.
Zing!
At his limit, his grip faltered, his Zanpakutō spinning from his hand, embedding in the ground with a thud.
Is this my limit?
Sano thought, unwilling.
The hammer loomed larger in his vision.
Just as hope faded, his pupils contracted.
The Quincy, mid-swing, froze, sensing something.
Crunch!
A massive, furry orb, like a polar bear, opened its gaping maw.
It bit down.
Blood splattered across Sano's face, his eyes hollow.
The soldier, moments ago so triumphant, was reduced to a tottering lower half.
It collapsed with a thump.
"This is..."
"Gagaku Kairō?!"
Recognizing the Zanpakutō, Sano saw a small figure dart forward, crashing into the fray. Cold eyes commanded a pack of terrifying Gagaku Kairō, devouring every enemy in their path.
Sano's legs gave out, and he slumped to the ground, staring at the diminutive warrior wreaking havoc, exhaling bitterly.
This... is a true genius?
Utterly humbling.
But Kuruyashiki Ryōma, who'd saved him in passing, had no time to ponder his comrade's thoughts.
Killing consumed all his focus.
Even if he knew Sano's mind, he'd likely just give a wry smile.
Beyond genius lies the absurd.
Clang!
A sound snapped Ryōma's attention upward.
His blade paused mid-swing, his gaze locking on the source.
A Gagaku Kairō froze, its massive jaws unable to close.
Ryōma's eyes fixed on the scene.
A tall man stood before the beast, one hand propping its upper jaw, a foot pinning the lower, stretching its maw to the limit. The reddened corners tore, but its sharp teeth couldn't pierce his skin.
Crack... crack...
Rip,
With a piercing tear, the Gagaku Kairō was effortlessly split in two.
Blood rained down.
The furry halves were tossed aside.
"Pathetic, boy."
The man turned slowly, exuding a casual air, as if strolling through a garden amidst the battlefield's chaos.
He paid the surrounding Shinigami no heed.
"Haa!"
A Shinigami officer charged, his blade crackling with lightning, slashing at the Quincy.
But before it could land, a large hand swatted, like shooing a fly.
Smack!
A headless corpse crumpled, blood pooling stickily.
Ryōma's grip tightened on his Zanpakutō, his heart pounding.
Suddenly, a dozen Gagaku Kairō materialized behind him, forming a legion, silently encircling the man.
Noticing Ryōma's expression, the man's face split into a bloodthirsty grin.
"Allow me to introduce myself."
"Sternritter, Schrift H."
"Hercules, the Strongman."
"A devout priest."
Ryōma's expression grew graver.
His hand clenched a few black beads.
...
At the mountainside.
Yamamoto stood silently.
His gaze fixed on the distant earth, where a pitch-black Dangai passage gaped like an abyssal maw.
Quincy poured from it endlessly, a white tide crashing against black reefs, mingling, then leaving a scarlet stain of blood.
After a long pause, he spoke, addressing those behind him:
"Have you found it?"
"Not yet."
Kinroku adjusted his glasses, his expression equally grave.
The Quincy offensive had raged for a day and a night.
Unlike their previous multi-pronged, aggressive strikes, this time the Quincy legion seemed focused solely on securing a foothold around District 28.
Thousands of Quincy formed disciplined units, led by Sternritter, advancing cautiously, holding their ground without overextending.
But for Yamamoto and Kinroku, the Quincy's tactics were secondary.
What mattered was that, in this seemingly formidable legion, only ten reiatsu signatures rivaling captain-level strength had been detected.
The rest were unaccounted for.
Most crucially, Yhwach's reiatsu had not appeared on the battlefield.
This absence kept the Shinigami on high alert, wary of a sudden assault.
No matter how they might underestimate these 'humans' from the living world, the Shinigami's top brass knew Yhwach was a powerhouse rivaling Yamamoto himself.
No one dared ignore such a threat.
Kinroku's scouting teams had placed detection markers across half of Soul Society, yet no news had come.
The silence gnawed at his nerves.
"Is that so."
Yamamoto's voice was low, his face impassive: "It seems... he's likely gone after that."
"Captain-Commander?"
Kinroku turned, puzzled.
Yamamoto looked calmly skyward, toward the boundless skies.
To enter the Soul King Palace, one needed the 'key' hidden in that sky.
The Ōken.
Without it, neither Yamamoto nor Yhwach could reach that realm.
To access the Soul King Palace, Yhwach would likely tear the Seireitei apart.
But then...
A thought crossed Yamamoto's mind, and he shook his head, chuckling softly:
"Don't worry."
"He'll show himself."
"However..."
His gaze shifted to the distant Seireitei.
He cared little for the lives of those residing there.
The 'residents' spared from battle, lingering safely in the Seireitei, were mostly remnants of ancient noble houses.
Their deaths wouldn't make him blink.
His true concern was Makoto and the others.
"...I hope that kid's sharp enough."
Seeing Yamamoto's demeanor, Kinroku instinctively adjusted his glasses.
He pondered quietly.
...
Seireitei, Central Street.
Teams of Zanpakutō-wielding Shinigami, led by low-ranking officers, patrolled the streets and alleys, their faces taut.
As veterans forged in years of war, these soldiers knew its cruelty.
A moment's lapse could mean death by an unforeseen strike.
Vigilance was second nature.
Kishida was one such soldier.
As fifteenth seat of the Tenth Division, he led ten subordinates through the commercial district.
Rounding a corner, he froze.
In the shadowed alley ahead, a tall, curvaceous figure stepped from the wall's darkness, as if passing through a curtain.
"Who's there?!"
Kishida barked, drawing his Asauchi with a clang.
His squad, hearing their lieutenant's shout, drew their blades, eyeing the shadows warily.
But the blonde woman, seemingly oblivious to their tension, flashed a carefree smile, her uniform open at the chest:
"Relax, relax!"
"I'm one of you."
Her pristine white uniform and military cap were worlds apart from Shinigami garb.
Yet, with those words, Kishida hesitated, lowering his Asauchi almost instinctively.
Not just him, his squad relaxed, as if greeting a familiar face, exhaling softly.
Their expressions betrayed no suspicion.
Kishida even frowned, scolding: "Didn't we assign patrol zones? Why're you in our area?"
"Get back, or your Tsukishima, tenth seat, will give me grief."
"Yes, yes."
Liestya nodded absently, slinging an arm around him, tilting her head: "But, say, buddy."
"Do you know where a treasure called the 'Ōken' is?"
"I need it urgently."
Kishida blinked, confused: "Ōken? What's that?"
Liestya, seeing his reaction, tapped her temple in frustration:
"Of course, low-ranking Shinigami wouldn't know such classified secrets."
"What?"
Kishida's brow furrowed, sensing something amiss.
But only faintly.
"No worries, no worries."
Liestya grinned, arm still around him: "So, do you know where the highest-ranking Shinigami nearby is?"
"You know... a captain!"
At those words, every Shinigami turned to her.
Something clicked.
Kishida, still in her grasp, stared, his body trembling faintly.
A bead of sweat rolled down his temple.
Liestya's brow creased.
Before she could pinpoint the issue, a large hand lightly tapped her shoulder, a voice teasing:
"Hey."
"I'm no captain, but if you've got questions, you can ask me."
Her eyes widened, and she whipped around.
But as her fiery gaze met the figure behind, a massive hand engulfed her face, fingers digging into her skull, nearly cracking it.
In an instant, immense force slammed down, smashing her into the ground like a rag.
Boom!
A muffled explosion rang out.
The ground within ten meters spiderwebbed with cracks, centered on her head.
The earth seemed to jolt.
Her curvaceous form was buried headfirst, like a planted onion.
Kishida and his squad snapped awake, retreating, their faces tight as they stared at the woman embedded in the ground, relief flickering in their eyes.
Makoto stood, shaking out his hand.
He rested one hand on his hip, looking down, tone casual:
"Whoops, sorry!"
"My hand slipped."
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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