Casualties

Tenth Division Garrison

South First District

The darkness dissipated.

Wang Tuchuan Yuxuji's Bankai, "Mournful Nightwing, Soundless," had covered the entire South First District for several minutes. Within that dark domain, he was the absolute master, with raptor-like charging speed, night vision, and an absolute advantage in Reiatsu perception throughout the domain.

Erwin Brenner's Reishi Werewolf lost its target in the darkness, and Wang Tuchuan shattered its spirit core with a single slash.

Dietrich Schmidt's dust explosions could not pinpoint their targets in the darkness. Every attack detonated wide, and in the end, Wang Tuchuan pierced his chest from behind.

Two Schrift bearers died beneath his blade.

Wang Tuchuan emerged from the darkness and released his Bankai.

The Tenth Division members rushed out from their cover and began clearing out the remaining enemies and tending to the wounded. The vice-captain ran to Wang Tuchuan's side, about to report on the battle.

Wang Tuchuan's chest opened up.

A beam shot down from a distant height, piercing through his back and emerging from his chest.

Wang Tuchuan lowered his head and glanced at his chest.

He staggered two steps.

The first step was forward. His body had not reacted yet; his feet kept moving as though nothing had happened.

The second step was to the left. His balance began to slip, and his body tilted to one side like a collapsing wall.

On the third step, he sat down.

He controlled his body, slowly bent his knees, and slowly lowered himself down, leaning against a broken wall. His movements were steady and composed, as if he were merely tired and wanted to sit down for a while.

The Tenth Division vice-captain froze.

He stood before Wang Tuchuan with his mouth open, unable to say a word. He saw the hole in Wang Tuchuan's chest.

"Cap... Captain..."

Wang Tuchuan did not look at him.

He raised his head and looked at the sky.

The sky over the South First District had been dyed grayish red by fire and smoke. The clouds hung low, as though they were about to press down. Wang Tuchuan's eyes were unfocused, the gray-red light of the sky reflected in his pupils.

He coughed twice.

Blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, ran down his chin, and dripped onto the collar of his black uniform.

The vice-captain lunged forward and pressed both hands over Wang Tuchuan's chest wound. Reiatsu surged wildly through his palms as he tried to stop the bleeding, tried to heal him, tried to do anything he could.

"Medical team! Medical team!" The vice-captain's voice tore like ripped cloth.

Medical personnel rushed over and frantically examined Wang Tuchuan's wound, pulse, and Reiatsu.

Wang Tuchuan's Reiatsu was still there.

It was faint, like a dying candle in the wind, flickering between brightness and darkness, liable to go out at any moment. But he was alive. At least, he was not dead yet.

"Get him back! Hurry!" a medic shouted.

"His heart was pierced, but his Reiatsu is still sustaining him... I don't know how long he can hold on. Hurry!"

Several members rushed over, carefully lifted Wang Tuchuan's body, and carried him toward the rear.

The vice-captain followed alongside them, keeping one hand pressed over Wang Tuchuan's wound, afraid to let go.

His Reiatsu was still there.

Still there.

But it was getting weaker and weaker.

In the distance.

Lille Barro stood atop a watchtower, watching the chaos below through his scope.

He saw that Soul Reaper captain emerge from the darkness. He saw him kill two Schrift bearers. He saw him release his Bankai.

Then he fired.

One shot.

The heart.

Through the scope, Lille watched the captain sit down, lean against the wall, stare at the sky, cough blood, and then fall still.

He waited for a while.

He waited to see whether that captain would struggle like the last one, even with a hole in his chest.

But this time, there was no struggle.

It was very quiet.

His men rushed over and carried him away.

Lille saw the expressions on those soldiers' faces: fear, despair, unwillingness. He did not need to hear them; he could read what they were shouting from the movements of their lips.

Lille lowered his gun, expressionless.

"Boring."

Thirteenth Division Garrison

East District Two

Saizo Sakigane could no longer hold on.

The instant his Bankai, "Night-Crying Blossom Words," activated, it truly changed the course of the battlefield.

A translucent phantom of a vicious demon rose behind him. Black mist spread from his blade through the entire street, engulfing Bazz-B and the surrounding Holy Soldiers with both visual interference and mental corruption.

Bazz-B's footsteps slowed.

The black mist affected him, but its effect was greater on the Holy Soldiers. They collapsed one after another. Some clutched their heads and screamed, some wildly punched at the air, while others curled into balls and trembled. The mental corruption was remarkably effective on ordinary Holy Soldiers, and their will rapidly crumbled beneath the demon's whispers.

But Bazz-B merely frowned. Though he was a Schrift bearer of the Sternritter, proud as he was, he was not one of those who considered himself above everyone else.

"Annoying fog."

He was unaffected by the mental corruption. His will was firm, and Saizo Sakigane's mental corruption could barely penetrate him.

The demons' whispers were as powerless before Bazz-B as mosquitoes, buzzing endlessly but unable to pierce his skin.

Saizo Sakigane knew that.

He had known it from the start.

His Bankai was not meant to defeat Bazz-B. It was meant to buy time—until reinforcements arrived, until Bazz-B lost patience, until he could survive even a few minutes longer.

But his stamina had already reached its limit.

Saizo Sakigane leaned behind half a ruined wall, gasping for air.

He was too old.

Saizo Sakigane had always known that. His Zanpakutō, "Nightmare," was a support type. Both its Shikai and Bankai focused on mental attacks and interference; direct combat had never been his strength.

Among the Gotei 13 captains, his overall combat ability ranked near the bottom. He admitted that himself.

That was why he never sought battle on his own.

But today, he could not avoid it.

Bazz-B stood in the middle of the street with both hands in his pockets, his head cocked as he looked at the broken wall where Saizo Sakigane was hiding. His red mohawk looked like a flag in the firelight, strikingly conspicuous.

"Hey!"

Bazz-B spoke with impatience in his voice. "Soul Reaper captain, is hiding all you can do?"

Saizo Sakigane did not answer.

Bazz-B sighed.

"Boring."

He raised his right hand.

Reishi gathered at his fingertips, blazing and violent, forming flames of ultimate intensity.

Bazz-B's expression changed.

It shifted from casual indifference to seriousness.

Not because he wanted to continue fighting seriously, but because he was serious about ending the fight.

"Burning Finger!"

His voice was not loud, yet every word burned like a branding iron.

"4!"

Four fingers.

Four flames.

The flames shot from his fingertips. They were neither arrows nor beams, but four streams of pure, intensely compressed Reishi fire. They traced four arcs through the air and struck the broken wall where Saizo Sakigane hid from four directions at once.

Saizo Sakigane heard the flames tear through the air.

His body reacted faster than his mind. He threw himself out from behind the wall and rolled across the ground, trying to evade the four flames.

But Bazz-B's flames were not meant for aiming.

They were meant to cover everything.

The four flames struck the broken wall simultaneously.

The wall vanished the instant the flames touched it.

The shockwave spread in every direction, lifting Saizo Sakigane from the ground. He flipped three times through the air before crashing heavily onto the ground.

His sword flew from his hand.

The black mist completely dispersed.

The demon phantom shattered into motes of light.

Saizo Sakigane lay face down on the ground, covered in blood. His ears rang, his vision blurred. His left leg had twisted during the tumble, and his knee had swollen like a bun. He could not stand at all.

He heard footsteps.

Bazz-B walked over.

Unhurried and unflustered, as if taking a stroll, his leather boots crunched over rubble. Every step landed upon Saizo Sakigane's heartbeat.

The footsteps stopped in front of Saizo Sakigane.

Saizo Sakigane raised his head.

Bazz-B stood before him and looked down. His red mohawk swayed in the firelight. The expression on his face was neither killing intent nor anger, but something difficult to describe—something like disappointment, and something like boredom.

"I thought a captain-class fighter would last a little longer."

Saizo Sakigane said nothing.

His lips moved, but no sound emerged. It was not that he did not know what to say. Beg for mercy? He would not. Make empty threats? Pointless.

Bazz-B shrugged.

He raised his right hand. This time, he extended only one finger.

"Burning Finger 1."

Flames gathered at his fingertip.

Saizo Sakigane closed his eyes.

Twelfth Division Garrison

Inside the Seireitei

Zenteiji Yūbin's Bankai, "Scorching Flame Rending Calamity," destroyed the terrain through vibration and generated searing heat, transforming the entire battlefield into a lava hell.

The ground split open, and crimson magma gushed from the cracks. The air was thick with a scorched smell.

Zenteiji stood at the center of the lava, his blade glowing red like a branding iron as heat waves around him distorted the light.

Those two ordinary Sternritter members had ceased to be opponents after his Shikai was released.

Zenteiji's hand-to-hand combat style was vicious enough to make people shudder. Coupled with Quake Calamity's ultra-high-frequency vibrational slashes, anything his blade touched was ripped apart at the molecular level.

He severed the first Sternritter member's Reishi bow with one slash, split open the Reishi armor across his chest with the second, and cleaved him in half from head to toe with the third.

The second tried to use Hirenkyaku to widen the distance, but Zenteiji's Shunpo was faster.

He caught up from behind and stabbed through the man's Reishi shield. The blade tip emerged from his chest, and high-frequency vibrations churned his organs into pulp.

But the battle was far from over.

A Reiatsu emerged from the darkness.

Heavy, oppressive Reiatsu, bearing down like a mountain.

Zenteiji frowned. He could feel even the lava beneath his feet trembling faintly before that Reiatsu.

The man was tall.

Extremely tall.

Broad-shouldered and thick-backed, his muscles knotted like a moving wall.

He was bare-chested and wore a helmet with an eyepatch.

In his left hand was a shield that would have been large for anyone else, but looked small in his grasp; in his right, a broadsword that would have been huge to others, yet seemed small in his hand.

But his eyes brimmed with fighting spirit and excitement.

"Hey!"

He spoke, his booming voice like thunder.

"Are you the Soul Reaper captain? I'm Gerard Valkyrie! Come fight!"

Zenteiji did not answer. He tightened his grip on the hilt, and the red-hot blade emitted an even higher-pitched hum.

He did not hesitate. His Bankai was already active, and the Lava Domain had already spread. There was no need to test his opponent. One slash.

He swung directly at Gerard's neck.

Gerard did not dodge.

He did not even raise his shield.

The blade struck Gerard's neck. High-frequency vibrations tore apart the Reishi structure at the point of contact. Gerard's neck was cut halfway through, blood erupting from the wound like a red waterfall.

Gerard glanced down at him.

Then the wound healed.

The instant the blade withdrew, the wound vanished without leaving even a scar.

Gerard tilted his head, rolled his neck, and let out a crisp crack of bone.

"That hurts~!" he said, with no anger in his voice—rather, a hint of... delight?

Shandingsi's pupils abruptly contracted.

He did not stop.

The second slash, the third, the fourth—like a madman, he carved wound after wound into Gerard's body. Chest, abdomen, arms, thighs—every strike cut deep enough to expose bone, every strike enough to kill an ordinary Quincy ten times over.

Gerard rose again every time.

Shandingsi began to grow agitated.

His attacks became faster and fiercer. He drove the Lava Domain to its limit, magma erupting from the ground in an attempt to swallow Gerard whole. Gerard was drenched in molten lava, his skin burned black.

Then the charred skin split apart, revealing fresh, unblemished skin beneath.

Gerard walked out of the magma with that hair-raising smile on his face.

"How many times have you killed me?" Gerard asked, as if counting.

"Six times? Seven? I've lost track."

Shandingsi did not answer.

Sweat beaded on his forehead, not from the heat, but from fear. He had never encountered an opponent like this.

No matter how he attacked, no matter how much damage he inflicted, his opponent would rise again—and each time...

Each time stronger?

Shandingsi noticed it.

After every rebirth, Gerard's Reiatsu grew slightly stronger than before.

His body was adapting to Shandingsi's attacks, evolving, becoming indestructible.

Shandingsi's breathing began to falter.

His slashes were no longer precise. His Shunpo began to hesitate, and the temperature of the Lava Domain started to fall.

Gerard noticed.

He waited for the moment Shandingsi exposed an opening.

Shandingsi swung his blade, aiming for Gerard's head.

The angle of that strike was off, its speed slower, and its Reiatsu insufficiently condensed, because he had begun to hesitate.

Gerard did not hesitate.

He raised his enormous shield and slammed it head-on into Shandingsi's blade.

The instant shield and blade collided, the tremendous impact traveled from the sword into Shandingsi's arm, then his shoulder, then his entire body.

Shandingsi was sent flying.

He tumbled several times through the air before crashing heavily onto the ground. His sword slipped from his hand and skidded several meters away.

Gerard strode toward him, each step making the ground tremble.

Shandingsi lay on the ground, watching that towering figure draw closer and closer.

Within the Seireitei.

The Kuchiki Clan.

The head of the Kuchiki Clan stood on the steps before the manor's main gate, his Zanpakutō drawn, silver-white spiritual light flowing along its blade.

His Reiatsu was deep and steady, like a mountain standing before the gates of the Kuchiki Clan.

Behind him, his eldest son, Kuchiki Ginrei, along with members of the Kuchiki main family, branch families, and armed vassal nobles, were battling the Holy Soldiers. The Kuchiki Clan head himself was captain-class, and the clan possessed several vice-captain-class members. This force was enough to repel any ordinary Quincy unit in a short time.

But today's enemies were not ordinary.

Among the Quincy besieging the Kuchiki Clan were at least five with vice-captain-class Reiatsu, along with a Schrift bearer overseeing the battle from afar. Kuchiki Ginrei's blade was swift and his Zanjutsu precise; every strike took down a Holy Soldier. Yet those vice-captain-class Quincy took turns attacking, giving him no chance to catch his breath.

Sweat seeped onto the Kuchiki Clan head's brow.

It was not exhaustion. The pressure was simply too great. He could not retreat.

Behind him stood the Kuchiki manor, the Kuchiki clansmen, and the thousand-year honor the Kuchiki Clan had built. He had to hold the line.

Blade light flashed, and another vice-captain-class Quincy had his Reishi bow severed, forcing him back. But two immediately took his place, closing in from the left and right.

The Kuchiki Clan head gritted his teeth. He had yet to use Bankai.

He was waiting.

Waiting for that Schrift bearer to make a move.

The Tsunayashiro Clan.

Tsunayashiro Shiki stood atop the manor roof, holding the Zanpakutō passed down through the Tsunayashiro Clan.

"Reverently present yourself, Nine Heavens Mirror Valley."

No one understood this blade's power better than the Tsunayashiro Clan. It was one of Soul Society's oldest Zanpakutō, and its power was enough to render any wielder invincible against an opponent of equal Reiatsu.

The Holy Soldiers charged toward the gates of the Tsunayashiro Clan.

Tsunayashiro Shiki stood at the very front, sword in hand.

Every attack from the Holy Soldiers was reflected back.

Together with the Tsunayashiro Clan's armed forces and Kidō users, the Holy Soldiers could not shake this place in the slightest.

Yet this was not this Zanpakutō's true release.

The Quincy commander in the distance watched the scene, and his expression changed.

The Tsunayashiro Clan manor could not be taken.

The Shiba Clan.

Within the Shiba Clan manor were two captain-class fighters.

Shiba Chuanlu and his younger brother.

Three blue giant birds circled above Shiba Chuanlu's head, ready to dive and attack at any moment.

His younger brother's Reiatsu was not as strong as Chuanlu's, but he was battle-hardened and his Zanjutsu seasoned.

With two captain-class fighters holding the fort, the Shiba Clan had it easiest among all the noble houses.

The Holy Soldiers charged forward only to be pierced through by the giant birds' beaks. Holy Soldier squad leaders attempted to break through, but were cut down strike after strike by the captain-class fighters. The moment vice-captain-class Quincy showed themselves, Chuanlu's Shunpo forced them back.

The Shiba Clan warriors even had time to drink water between battles.

"Clan Head!"

A Shiba Clan member ran over to report. "The Holy Soldiers on the western side have retreated."

Shiba Chuanlu nodded without saying much. His gaze passed over the manor walls toward the fires burning in other parts of the Seireitei.

The Shihōin Clan.

Shihōin Qianri had taken the Second Division out to provide aid, while the clansmen remaining behind were responsible for defending the Shihōin manor.

Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament.

The Reishi Armaments passed down through the Shihōin Clan from generation to generation. Every piece was priceless, and every piece could save its owner's life at a critical moment.

Wearing the Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament, the Shihōin Clan members rampaged through the Holy Soldiers. Ordinary Reishi arrows bounced off them, while ordinary Reishi blades slid away.

They were not the strongest fighters, but they were certainly the hardest to kill.

One Shihōin Clan member was struck in the chest by three Holy Soldiers at once. The defensive spiritual light of the Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament flared, sending all three arrows flying. That clansman did not even lower his head to look at his chest before cutting down the nearest Holy Soldier with one slash.

Outside the Shihōin Clan manor, Holy Soldier corpses lay piled in a thick layer.

But the Shihōin Clan had suffered casualties as well. The Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament was not invincible. Vice-captain-class Quincy could pierce its defenses with Holy Arrows, and those Schrift bearers...

Upper Nobility.

The Kyoraku Clan.

The Kyoraku Clan manor stood in the Upper Nobility district. It was not large, but it was sturdy.

The Kyoraku Clan head was captain-class.

That fact allowed the Kyoraku Clan to fare far better than the other Upper Nobility amid today's chaos.

A captain's Reiatsu was enough to deter ordinary Holy Soldiers, and a captain's Zanjutsu was enough to handle vice-captain-class Quincy.

The Kyoraku Clan members followed behind their clan head. Though they did not possess the crushing advantage of the Four Great Noble Clans, they had at least not been defeated.

Deep within the manor, inside a room with its paper door tightly shut.

The young children hid behind the door, curled into balls with their hands clamped over their ears. His eyes were wide, the firelight and blade flashes filtering through the paper door reflected in his pupils. The battle cries, screams, and sounds of Reishi arrows cutting through the air outside were like countless needles stabbing into his ears.

The clan head's wife was still pregnant, yet she continued to stand before the children.

The Ise Clan.

The Ise Clan head was a woman with weak spiritual power.

Although their family possessed a Zanpakutō passed down through generations, it could not serve any purpose at this moment.

The Ise Clan had always borne a curse: any man who married into the Ise Clan would die young.

It was not superstition. It was fact.

Not one son-in-law in the Ise Clan's history had lived past forty. Some died in battle, some from illness, some in accidents, but all of them died.

The current clan head had found a man.

He was powerful—captain-class, with formidable Reiatsu, refined Zanjutsu, and swift Shunpo. He had not married into the clan; he had merely married an Ise Clan daughter. But according to custom, he was still considered an Ise Clan son-in-law.

On their wedding day, everyone believed the curse would finally be broken. He was so strong—who could possibly kill him? Disease? An accident? Impossible.

He stood before the gates of the Ise Clan manor, his Zanpakutō drawn and his Reiatsu fully unleashed.

Before him stood one captain-class Quincy and six vice-captain-class Quincy.

His left arm had already been severed, white bone jutting out from the elbow as it hung bloodily at his side. A deep blade wound crossed his chest, exposing his ribs. His right leg had been pierced by a Holy Arrow, and every step he took left another bloody footprint on the ground.

He was still fighting.

Not for the Ise Clan, not to break the curse, but for the woman behind him, hiding in the house with their child in her arms.

The captain-class Quincy raised his hand, Reishi gathering in his palm.

He saw it.

But he could no longer dodge.