"What are you talking about?"
Kenpachi Zaraki frowned deeply. He was unable to understand those profound terms Ichigo Kurosaki had mentioned, such as "cells" and "the transmission of power."
To him, battle was a clash of strength, a contest of blood and flesh. Those overly refined theories were like fantastical tales, leaving him both unfamiliar and irritated.
To Kenpachi Zaraki, it was not merely a weapon, but an extension of his soul—a means through which he conversed with the world.
"In other words, I don't need to worry about cutting you to death, right?"
Kenpachi Zaraki's voice was low and powerful as he swung his blade again. This time, he tried to prove his strength with an even fiercer assault, to show Ichigo Kurosaki just how cruel true battle could be.
Yet Ichigo Kurosaki stood with an almost teasing posture, one hand in his pocket while the other casually blocked the deadly strike, as though Kenpachi Zaraki's full power attack was nothing more than a breeze brushing past him.
"Didn't you fucking eat? Put some strength into it! Don't worry about hurting me, and don't be afraid of cutting me to death."
A faint smile tugged at Ichigo Kurosaki's lips. There was both provocation and encouragement in his tone, as though he were guiding Kenpachi Zaraki to unleash the power hidden deep within him.
"Because you're still far too weak!"
The words struck Kenpachi Zaraki's heart like a heavy hammer, stirring unprecedented rage and fighting spirit within him.
Consumed by fury, Kenpachi Zaraki finally erupted. The muscles all over his body seemed to swell in an instant, and his eyes turned bloodshot, like an enraged beast.
He swung his blade again. This time, he was no longer hacking carelessly, but gathering all his strength and will upon the edge as