Since there was a sin value attached, that meant the imprisoned Morita Nijūshichirō had clearly earned his sentence.
And judging from the number, this guy was seriously messed up.
As everyone knows, Hollows need to devour each other in order to evolve. Every Gillian is formed from hundreds or even thousands of ordinary Hollows fused together.
To become an Adjuchas, you have to devour other Gillian.
Those two Adjuchas that had just been thrown into the Reviving Hell only had a sin value of 777, and this Morita Nijūshichirō was worth roughly one-seventh of an Adjuchas.
You could imagine how cruel he must've been.
[Your Reiatsu has increased.]
[Your Zanjutsu has increased. Current level: LV25.]
The slight rise in Reiatsu was better than nothing, but his swordsmanship came with several new insights.
A flood of memories of swinging a blade under the moon poured into his mind, and Naraku's eyes grew brighter.
Just like when his Hakuda improved earlier, this wasn't some clumsy force-feeding power-up.
It was more like rapidly syncing himself with the process of all that training, and then getting stronger step by step.
Having tasted the sweetness, Naraku quickly greeted the other jailers, then hurried back to the Intake Room to keep escorting the rebels.
Seeing the newcomer work like he didn't know the meaning of "tired," a relieved smile spread across Nishikawa's honest face.
No one had ever wanted to touch this kind of thankless grind before. Now they'd somehow gotten themselves a nuclear-powered mule who wanted to work overtime.
He could finally take a break.
Skiving off felt great.
Naraku grabbed another rebel Shinigami whose power had been sealed and happily headed back down below. He happened to catch Nishikawa's approving gaze,
so he flashed him a big grin.
This Nishikawa-senpai really was a good person.
To trust a newbie this much with escorting vicious criminals—he absolutely couldn't betray that hard-won trust.
Their eyes met, and both of them showed a tacit, knowing smile.
Escorting criminals didn't take much technique, but because the Hells were underground, running back and forth wasn't exactly a short process.
Luckily, Naraku was enjoying every minute of it.
[Your Hakuda has increased. Current level: LV27!]
[Your understanding of Hadō has improved. You have perfectly mastered Hadō #31: Shakkahō!]
[Your understanding of Bakudō has improved. You have successfully learned Bakudō #39: Enkōsen!]
[Your understanding of Shunpo has improved. Current level: LV23!]
[Your understanding of Zanjutsu has improved. Current level: LV26!]
[Your Reiatsu has increased. Current Reiatsu grade: Level 11!]
[Your alcohol tolerance has increased!]
[Your understanding of…]
…Something weird slipped in there just now.
So in addition to the basic sword, fist, step, and spell disciplines and Reiatsu, he could also extract unique traits from criminals?
Naraku stared at the system prompts, deep in thought.
But very soon the corners of his mouth couldn't help lifting, as if he could already see the peak of his life right in front of him.
Even if each rebel only gave limited gains, it all added up over time.
On top of that, every single one of them was at least elite Shinigami level, some even on par with seated officers—and their sin values were high.
Taken together, Naraku's growth was pretty impressive.
He'd almost caught up to all those years of hard training at the academy.
If before this he hadn't even been qualified to block a single finger from Aizen, then now Naraku could proudly declare—
Puny little Sōsuke's finger strength? That's all it is!
The future was bright—very bright!
At this rate, forget just the Central Great Underground Prison—he'd be sitting in the Warden's chair someday!
Time for another daydream.
In a very good mood, Naraku hummed to himself as he returned to the surface, planning to ask Nishikawa a few questions.
Like when the next batch of criminals would be arriving.
Or whether jailers were allowed to go out and arrest people who "defied justice."
If a mere 5% contribution rated this kind of profit, what would 100% look like—would he just ascend on the spot?
The upper levels of the Central Great Underground Prison weren't much different from the Gotei 13 barracks—in fact, they were even more luxurious.
After all, below them were all the criminals imprisoned since Seireitei's founding.
If anything happened here, it'd be no different from Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni opening Bankai in the middle of Seireitei.
Maybe even worse.
According to Nishikawa, prison breaks had happened more than once in the past, and without exception they'd always involved families connected to the Central 46.
So working as a jailer here was an extremely high-risk job.
It was even more dangerous than serving in the Gotei 13.
"Naraku, I was just about to go looking for you."
Naraku hadn't been walking through the barracks for long before he saw Nishikawa coming toward him.
"Nishikawa-senpai, I actually had a few questions I wanted to ask you too."
"Ask on the way."
"On the way where?"
"Lady Shutara wants to see you."
"?"
Naraku slowly "typed out" a question mark in his heart.
Was he busted?
Why was that woman suddenly looking for him for no reason?
Thinking about Shutara Senjumaru's status, Naraku immediately became wary.
Maybe seeing his confusion, Nishikawa casually offered an explanation:
"Probably because of how you handled those two Adjuchas."
"To be honest, it's been a long time since the Central Prison has had a newcomer with your level of potential."
"The Warden appreciates talent. She might even promote you straight to Head Jailer."
Head Jailer was equivalent to a seated officer, and with Naraku's current strength, he more than qualified.
That was what he said on the surface—but the transmigrator's paranoia in him only grew stronger.
It wasn't hard to tell from his tone that earnest Nishikawa was genuinely happy for Naraku.
"Come on, don't keep the Warden waiting."
At this point, all Naraku could do was bite the bullet.
The two of them walked toward the central area of the barracks, one behind the other.
There weren't many people around; most of the jailers were down below, carrying out punishments in the Hells.
That gave the place a rather deserted feel.
Even when someone passed by, they only stopped long enough to bow respectfully to Nishikawa before hurrying off again.
The overall atmosphere was solemn and heavy.
They stopped in front of a spacious wooden building. The door slid open, and inside, a pale, elegant woman sat in the center, a faint, unreadable smile playing around her eyes.
Just looking at her made Naraku's scalp prickle.
Under those eyes, he couldn't shake the feeling that even his underwear had been seen through.
"Naraku Sora, you did well earlier. Since your strength meets the standard, from now on you'll be the Tenth Seat of the Central Prison."
Shutara Senjumaru smiled. "Also, leave Hell to the others. You'll stay in the barracks and help me handle some paperwork."
Naraku's face twisted a little at that, and he said awkwardly,
"Warden, ma'am, I actually just performed so-so. I barely held on. Could you let me keep training on the lower levels for a while longer?"
The moment those words left his mouth, Nishikawa's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
The last person who defied Lady Shutara's orders had "stabbed himself in the back thirty-eight times" and "committed suicide," if he remembered right.
How many lives did this kid think he had, talking like that?
"Lady Shutara, Naraku he—" Nishikawa tried to salvage this living, breathing life.
But before he could finish, he saw something that shattered his understanding of reality.
Shutara Senjumaru took a few steps forward, reached out with long, slender fingers, and pinched the boy's face—still twisted but with a hint of stubbornness.
Leaning close to his ear, her soft breath brushing his skin, she spoke in a low, velvety voice, laced with a faint, elegant scent:
"Brat, you really don't want to reconsider?"