Vergil's Sorrow

When Hu blocked Mōcāng's first strike, the sensation in his hand went numb.

The azure Reiatsu on the blade exploded at the moment of impact, like countless ice needles piercing his fingers. He gritted his teeth, parried the blow, and retreated to create distance, his left hand already forming Beowulf's gauntlets.

Light patterns pulsated on his fist, layer upon layer of white light stacking up until it was full. He Shunpo lunged forward and punched Mōcāng in the chest.

Mōcāng's left hand also lit up with Beowulf's light pattern, and his right fist met the attack. The two fists collided in mid-air. The shockwave exploded outward from the two of them, cracking the ground and scattering debris everywhere.

Hu felt as if his fist had hit a wall, the recoil traveling up his forearm to his shoulder.

"Is this all your Beowulf is?" Mōcāng asked disdainfully.

Hu stepped forward again, Mōcāng twisted his wrist, his blade flicking out to parry Hu's Jiku'a. His left fist followed immediately.

Beowulf's gauntlets created a visible ripple in the air as they struck Amber directly in the chest.

Hu was sent flying backward, crashing into a tree stump more than ten meters away. The stump snapped in half, and he slammed his back against it, letting out a muffled groan as the air was forced out of his lungs. Before he could even stand up, Mōcāng's voice came from above.

"You don't even know the most basic double-structure building?"

You think just channeling Reiatsu into your gauntlets is enough?

"The Phantom Armor is constructed from our Reiatsu. Didn't you realize it could be used simultaneously with physical weapons?"

Amber looked up and saw that the gauntlets of the Mōcāng were covered with a layer of eerie blue phantom—it wasn't just Beowulf's light patterns, but also had an outer shell made of Reishi, like an additional protective layer around Beowulf.

That thing was Beowulf's Phantom Armor.

With two layers of weaponry combined, the difference in strength is not insignificant.

Seeing Hu's surprised expression, Mōcāng's lips twitched slightly, and he threw a punch.

The next second, Amber's gauntlets dissipated, and she was sent flying backward again, landing right back where the battle had begun.

Mōcāng slowly walked back, looking down at his gauntlets as if they were something soiled. "Such immense power, yet you've used it like this. It's truly pathetic."

Hu crawled out of the rubble, wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, and five Summoned Swords had already materialized around him. The sword tips were aimed at Mōcāng, and he waved his hand, and the five swords shot out at the same time—a straight trajectory, extremely fast, and accompanied by five sharp whistles as they cut through the air.

Five phantom swords also floated up around Mōcāng. But his Summoned Swords were slightly different:

They constantly changed direction in flight, like living beings—their speed was comparable to Amber's Summoned Swords, but they were even more agile. The five Summoned Swords avoided direct collisions with Amber's five swords, instead striking the weak points in the Reishi structure from the sides.

"What?" Seeing his Summoned Swords destroyed in a single move, Hu let out a cry of surprise.

In that instant of exclamation, five Summoned Swords were already upon him. Hu dodged the first one from the side, the second grazed his ribs, and the third slashed down from above his head. He tilted his head, and the blade sliced off a few strands of his hair. The fourth one sprang up from the ground, its tip aimed straight for his throat. He raised his knife to block, but was forced back by the impact.

The instant Hu stood up, he felt a chill on his back, followed by warm blood flowing out. A Summoned Swords floated out from behind him and returned to Mōcāng's side.

"In your hands, it's just Summoned Swords of throwing knives."

Mōcāng didn't even move. His Summoned Swords re-condensed in the air, five of them hovering behind him like five silent falcons.

"In my hands, they are extensions of my limbs. You can't even control your own sword, yet you expect to control this battle?"

Hu, panting, condensed Phantom Blade in his left hand, loading it with Byakurai. Lightning crackled across the blade as he thrust it forward, the lightning exploding at the tip. Mōcāng, similarly loading Byakurai, with the same lightning and at the same angle, the two swords collided, the lightning clashing against each other, exploding into a blinding white light between them.

"You've learned a lot from Shaoling."

The white light dissipated, Mōcāng's sword remained. His voice came from behind the blade, as cold as ice water seeping through a crack in the stone.

"She was a good teacher. She taught you for a whole month, breaking down the principles of Kidō and feeding them to you. Tessai Tsukabishi, Yoruichi Shihōin, Kisuke Urahara, Cilian— " He slowly recited those names one by one. "So many people piled so much stuff on you. And what have you done with it?"

Mōcāng turned his sword and loaded the Shakkahō. The sword blazed with crimson flames, and he slashed down, faster than Amber. He knew exactly what Amber was going to do, and even what Amber hadn't thought of next.

"That's the advantage of the Kidō," he said. "Haien, you still need to chant. But I don't. Because I had enough time to learn the Kidō within the Demon Cocoon! Even if our power levels are the same, your understanding of power is far inferior!"

A deep purple pillar of fire erupted from the sword tip, the Heat knocking Hu to the ground. Before he could get up, Mōcāng was already standing in front of him, looking down at him.

"What did you learn from them?" He looked down at Amber, his crimson eyes filled not with anger, but with a contemptuous bewilderment. "What did you learn from Cilian? Cowardice means defeat, hesitation means death—he placed all his hopes on you, and all you learned was how to take a beating?"

"From Yoruichi? She Shunpo down and taught you Shunpo, and that's how you learned to run faster when you're being caught?"

"From Urahara? He traded an arm for your Awakening, and you're just here hacking and slashing?"

Mōcāng stopped, the tip of his blade pointing towards the ground, his gaze towards Hu revealing undisguised contempt.

You don't deserve these people.

Amber's pupils contracted sharply. He roared, gripped Jiku'a tightly, and charged forward. Judgment Cut extended from the tip of the blade, tearing an arc through the air with a deep blue rift—faster and more ruthless than before, carrying the full power of his enraged rage.

Mōcāng met the attack head-on. His Jiku'a also unleashed Judgment Cut, but it was more decisive and sharper than Hu's. Every strike carried an unwavering resolve, and every spatial rift was not merely torn open, but rather pierced through. His moves had no superfluous embellishments, only the purest killing intent forming the trajectory.

The two swords clashed again, Dimensional Rifts Dimensional Rift, the air was repeatedly torn apart and healed, emitting a piercing shriek.

Mōcāng looked into Hu's eyes during a lull in the clash of blades. "Do you know what the biggest difference is between you and me?"

He unleashed a full-force strike. The blade wasn't aimed directly at Hu, but rather cleaved into the space between them. A massive rift was torn open in the space, its edges jagged and unable to heal for a long time. The blade simply disappeared into the rift.

"I have never been protected by anyone."

The blade sprang out from the space behind Hu. He didn't have time to turn around, only to slightly turn his body as the blade cleaved into his chest, and blood splattered out.

"No one shielded me from those dark, negative, and dirty things!"

Blood splattered out.

The moment the pain exploded, a memory that didn't belong to him flooded into his mind.

He saw a woman lying on the ground, her golden hair disheveled, her blue eyes lifeless. He felt himself kneeling beside her, his fingers digging into the soil, his voice hoarse from crying.

Even though Hu couldn't recall the woman's face, his feeling was unmistakable. It was his mother! His mother! The sorrow felt so real, like a hand gripping his heart and twisting it forcefully.

Before he could recover from that grief, the blade fell again.

"No one locks them in cages for me, so I can bask in the sun in peace and have sweet nothings with people."

Another memory surfaced: darkness, narrowness, hunger. Amber huddled in a corner, the howls of demons echoing from the alley outside. No one came. No one would come.

He felt himself shivering, a cold seeping from the depths of his bones, unrelated to body temperature.

Lonely!

Fear!

He was still very young, Yamato couldn't be used for long. He only had a dagger he had found, but that dagger couldn't stop the demon.

The Mōcāng's blade has struck again.

Mōcāng's blade infused each wound with memories. It wasn't deep, just enough to allow the pain and memories to rush in together. He deliberately avoided making a second cut in the same spot, instead spreading the wounds all over his body.

"That's why I'm strong," he said. "Not just stronger than you—stronger than everyone else. Because I survived the darkness all by myself!"

He paused, looking at Amber's trembling body, which was throbbing with the flood of angry memories:

In Amber's memory, he had grown a few years older and was wielding his sword alone. He fell again and again, and rose again and again.

Not strong enough!

Not strong enough!

That sense of resentment burned like fire inside him.

Mōcāng looked at him—at Amber, kneeling on the ground, enduring Vergil's darkest memories.

Then Amber felt a thirst for power. A pure, the Heat, almost frantic thirst.

He locked himself in the training ground, day after day, year after year. He gave up everything—feelings, attachments, rest, even sleep—just to become stronger. That desire burned within him like a raging fire; he had never known that desire could be so painful. It hurt to the bone, it hurt so much that every inch of his skin felt like it was burning.

When Hu's left leg was cut open again, the flood of memories almost made him kneel down.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

He didn't wait for Hu's reply. "I used to wake up in this pain every day!"

In my memory:

The Dark Magician's hand reached out from the darkness. His body was grabbed by something, his limbs were pulled apart, and countless hands in the darkness were tearing at his flesh and soul.

The Dark Magician infused his body with demonic power, causing every cell to break and rebuild, the torn fibers re-weaving along unfamiliar paths.

He remained conscious within the ice, his mind suspended in the eternal night, each second filled with boundless torment.

"No..."

Hu blurted it out. It wasn't a roar, nor a groan, just a very low sound. He himself didn't even realize what he had said.

Mōcāng raised his blade once more. The eerie blue light on the blade was reflected in Hu's silver eyes, drawing ever closer.

He instinctively wanted to lift Jiku'a, but his fingers wouldn't obey him. Those memories kept pouring in, layer upon layer, like Tide surging into the gaps of his perception, scattering the memories in his muscles, the tremors in his bones, and the outlines of everything.

He saw Dante's face—

His younger brother stood opposite him, holding the Rebellion, golden light rising from behind him. A complex, indescribable emotion—hatred, jealousy, guilt, and something else suppressed deep within, almost unrecognizable—rushed into his chest, suffocating him.

Another knife fell. This time, to the abdomen.

The pain momentarily pulled him from the duel—he saw Mōcāng standing before him, his own swaying figure reflected in his crimson eyes.

In the blink of an eye, it turned into the Demon Emperor again—no, it was Dante. No, it was the Demon Emperor. It was Dante. The Demon Emperor's figure pressed down in the dark red sky. He could no longer distinguish whether the person before him was Mōcāng, Dante, or the one who had turned him into a puppet.

"You can't even stand up anymore?"

Mōcāng gripped his knife, looking down at Hu kneeling in a pool of blood.

The light in his scarlet eyes flickered slightly, as if something seeping from a very deep, long-dried place, something he himself didn't recognize. But he still swung the knife down.

Just then—a serrated blade slashed down from the side, striking Mōcāng's blade heavily.

Mōcāng's sword was deflected. A piercing metallic scraping sound exploded in the training ground as a dark blue Reiatsu collided with another, golden, flamboyant Reiatsu, causing the air to tremble. Mōcāng took a step back, turned his head, and saw a tall figure standing in front of him, carrying a sword.

Kenpachi Zaraki!

"Hey." Kenpachi's voice was like rusty iron scraping against each other. He stared at Mōcāng, a chilling smile spreading across his face. "What's the point of torturing someone weaker than yourself? It annoys me. You dare fight me if you dare?"

Yachiru perched on Kenpachi's shoulder, swinging her legs and making a face at Mōcāng. Gin peeked out from behind Kenpachi, his expression a mix of embarrassment and helplessness.

Ikkaku, clutching Reiatsu Recovery Potion, followed behind, panting heavily, while Yumichika sat leaning against the rubble, also catching his breath.

Mōcāng looked at Kenpachi, his scarlet eyes showing neither fear nor fighting spirit.

He simply scoffed. Then his gaze swept past Kenpachi's shoulder and landed on Amber, who was kneeling on the ground. The contempt in his eyes was almost overflowing.

"Give up." His voice was calm and cold. "You can't defeat me. I won't allow myself to grovel at the feet of an incompetent ruler who doesn't even have the courage to face his past."

A gust of wind swept by, stirring up the sand and dust beneath his feet. His figure began to fade, peeling away layer by layer from the edges, turning into ghostly blue Reishi that were scattered by the wind. The last thing to vanish was his pair of scarlet eyes. They lingered in the air for a moment, like two embers about to be extinguished.

Then it completely transformed into Reishi and returned to Amber's body.

Hu knelt on the ground, covered in blood. The wounds weren't deep, and the bleeding had stopped long ago. His body was fine, but his eyes were empty; the light in his silver pupils had never been so dim.

It felt as if a deep part of his heart had been ripped open. Jiku'a was stuck in the ground in front of him, the blade trembling slightly, its eerie blue light flickering like a silent comfort.

Kenpachi, carrying his sword, looked down at Amber, his brows furrowed. He had followed the sound of the bell all the way here, yearning for a thrilling battle.

The scene that followed was one of torturing the weak, while the seemingly strong guy simply vanished. All that remained was a man, battered and bruised, kneeling before them, unable to even stand.

Yachiru leaned her head on his shoulder, her eyes reflecting the kneeling figure of Amber, and said nothing.

This isn't like you.

Yin stood not far away, his usual frivolity nowhere to be seen. He didn't approach, but simply looked at Hu kneeling in the pool of blood, his voice much lower than usual. "You shouldn't be like this."

Fon Shaoling grabbed Yin by the collar. She practically pulled Yin over, her knuckles clenched so tightly they turned white, her voice low but trembling.

"Gin Ichimaru, why are you bringing along the person in the entire Seireitei who's least connected to Bankai when you're teaching Bankai?"

In the midst of a battle with Zanpakuto, if someone suddenly intervenes, no one can predict what will happen!

If you don't know how to teach, you don't have to teach. If you don't know how to help him, at least don't harm him.

She let go of his hand and turned to walk towards Hu.

She crouched down, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Her fingertips barely touched his shoulder before she withdrew them. She simply crouched there, looking at his profile.

Her fingers clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms. She had never seen Hu show such a pained expression before, and she didn't know what had happened.

However, she was certain it must have been an extremely painful experience...

"Amber..."

Her voice was so soft, almost carried away by the wind.