[Main Quest (Phase One): The Ascension Path]
Mission Objective:The End Space has camouflaged the Explorer's spiritual signature.To the inhabitants of this world, you appear as a lifeform composed of high-density reishi.Your current identity: a vagrant of North Rukongai, District 80.Objective: find a way to enter Seireitei and open the path of ascension.
Time Limit: 3 natural daysDifficulty: Easy → Hard (variable)Reward for Success: 500 End CoinsFailure Condition: Erasure
Join Seireitei.
At first glance, it didn't sound particularly dangerous—almost simple, in fact.But the fluctuating difficulty range marked on the quest interface made Arata uneasy.
In the Soul Society, the residents of Rukongai's outer districts were the lowest of the low—souls scraping by in poverty and chaos.Yet for those with spiritual talent, entering Seireitei wasn't impossible. The Gotei 13 constantly recruited new members, and many of its most famous Shinigami had started as Rukongai commoners, enrolling in the Shin'ō Spiritual Arts Academy before earning their black uniforms.
Arata didn't know how his talent compared to this world's standards, but it was likely above average.If he followed the proper path—enrolling, training—he should be able to reach Seireitei without too much trouble.
But there was a problem: getting there alive.
The higher the district number, the more dangerous the territory.District 80 lay on the very edge of Soul Society—a lawless wasteland where chaos ruled.Reaching the gates of Seireitei from here was like walking through a storm of blades.
So far, the End Space had only told him where he was—not when.He didn't know what point in the Bleach timeline he had landed in.After a moment's thought, he decided speculation was useless. He'd start by checking his current status.
When the End Space had dropped him into this world, it had implanted basic usage data directly into his mind.He summoned the interface mentally and began reviewing the glowing lines of text.
[Explorer No. 404040404]Level: 1
Note: The average adult human value for each stat below (except Luck) is 5.
Vital Source: 100%Soul Source: 100%Physique: 15Strength: 15Agility: 15Spirit: 20Charisma: 6Luck: 1
(Reminder: Your physical body is not digitized. The following values serve as a reference only.)
Arata studied the figures with a thoughtful frown.He'd played games before—enough to understand the basics. Vital Source was his health, Soul Source his spiritual energy, the "blue bar."But unlike games, these weren't literal numbers. They were living energy—bound to a real soul.
Physique determined the upper limit of his health, endurance, resistance, and recovery speed.Strength affected lifting, striking, and—along with agility—his burst movement.Agility governed reflexes and neural precision.Spirit influenced mastery over techniques, damage output of certain abilities, sensory awareness, and resistance to mental interference.Charisma shaped interactions with others, summoning ability, and certain resistances.Luck… well, the interface simply described it as "related to item discovery, crafting, and chance-based events. Difficult to improve."
He stared at the lonely "1" next to Luck, wondering whether it was a curse or a joke.
Then—A scream tore through the distant street.
Arata's instincts kicked in. He turned sharply toward the sound.
A black-robed figure—Shinigami uniform tattered and soaked in blood—flew through the air and crashed through the side of a decrepit wooden house.The few vagrants loitering nearby scattered instantly, running with a speed born from long habit.
The way they fled—swift, silent, practiced—told Arata everything.This district was chaos incarnate.Those who weren't quick were already gone.
His brow furrowed. That uniform—he'd caught a glimpse of the insignia before it vanished in the dust.A Shinigami.
That meant this wasn't a random brawl among Rukongai thugs.Was it a Hollow attack? Or perhaps a rebellion from within Soul Society itself?Either way, he was about to find out exactly what era he'd landed in.
The vagrants sprinted past him, glancing at Arata as if he were insane for not running. None stopped to warn him.Then two more figures came from the corner—bloodied, panicked, fleeing for their lives.
The leading Shinigami shouted hoarsely into a crackling communicator."Requesting support! We're under attack by rebels in North Rukongai, District 80! Repeat—requesting immediate support!"
One of his arms was gone—severed at the elbow. With the other, he clutched his zanpakutō like a lifeline, eyes wide with raw terror.
He and his companion were retreating blindly, clearly outmatched.When he saw Arata ahead, he didn't even try to change direction. He just charged forward.
In that instant, Arata understood why the mission's difficulty fluctuated so wildly.
If he had moved immediately after arrival—without stopping to check his stats—he might never have crossed paths with this battle.He could have reached a safer zone and completed his first objective without incident.
Even now, he could turn and run.
But he didn't want to.
A spray of blood burst before him.The leading Shinigami's head spiraled through the air, eyes frozen wide with disbelief.The man's body collapsed before Arata could even reach out.
Behind him, the pursuers emerged—rebels of the outer districts, their blades wet and glinting.
Another Shinigami fell, chest pierced through.His body hit the ground, eyes still open.
Clang—
The fallen Shinigami's zanpakutō struck the dirt, quivering.Its blade was slick with mingled blood—his and his enemy's.The sword came to rest at Arata's feet.
He stood there in ragged hemp clothing, staring silently as ten rebels fanned out across the street, inspecting the corpses.
They called themselves rebels—but they were little more than dissidents and outcasts, former Rukongai souls who resented Seireitei's rule.Some factions were organized, but most were rabble—desperate, angry, and doomed.
The dead Shinigami here had only been foot soldiers of the Gotei 13—unseated officers who hadn't even awakened their shikai.From the fight's remnants, Arata could already gauge both sides' strength.
"You think this is funny?"
One of the rebels barked at him, face twisted under filthy hair.
Another, the scarred leader, gestured with his sword."Just another vagrant. Kill him. The pursuit squads will be here any minute."
Arata reached up and touched his own face, surprised to feel the faint curve of a smile."…So I was smiling."
His body trembled—not from fear, but from something deeper.The nearest rebel mistook it for panic and stepped closer, blade raised.
He swung.
A wet sound split the air——but the man who fell wasn't Arata.
The vagrant now held the fallen Shinigami's sword, crimson sliding down its edge.With a single flick, Arata cast off the blood, the arc glimmering like a crimson halo across the dirt.
The rebels froze.Arata's eyes swept over them, calm and sharp. The tremor running through his frame didn't stop; it only deepened, coiling like a storm beneath his skin.
Then—he grinned.A thin, white-toothed smile that didn't reach his eyes.
"This place…" he murmured, voice low and electric. "It's been a while since I've felt this alive."
The scarred leader hesitated only a heartbeat before barking, "All of you—kill him!"
Spears thrust through the air, whistling.The wind of their movement sliced the heat for an instant.
Arata tilted his head slightly. The blade missed by a hair, cutting a strand of his hair instead.
The next heartbeat stretched.In the attacker's stunned eyes, Arata's sword rose from below like lightning.
Steel met flesh.Flesh yielded.Bone split.A soul was cut free.
In seconds, two rebels were dead.When Arata took his next step forward, the very air around him seemed to thrum—a subtle, invisible pressure that made the rest of them instinctively recoil.
He exhaled slowly, lifting his head toward the blazing white sun above Rukongai's desolation.The scent of blood and dust filled his lungs.
He was alive.And for the first time in years, he could feel it.
(End of Chapter — "The Ascension Path")