Casualties

Tenth Division Garrison

South First District

The darkness dissipated.

Wang Tuchuan Yuxuji's Bankai, "Mournful Nightwing, Soundless," had blanketed the entire South First District for several minutes. Within that domain of darkness, he was the absolute master, possessing a raptor's charge speed, night vision, and an absolute advantage in sensing Reiatsu within the domain.

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

Dietrich Schmidt's dust explosions could not pinpoint their targets in the darkness, causing every attack to miss. 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.

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 the situation.

Wang Tuchuan's chest burst open.

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

Wang Tuchuan lowered his head and looked at his chest.

He staggered two steps.

The first step was forward. His body had not reacted yet, and his foot kept moving as though nothing had happened.

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

On the third step, he sat down on the ground.

He controlled his body, slowly bent his knees, and slowly sat down with his back against a broken wall. His movements were steady and composed, as if he were merely tired and wanted to rest 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 above South First District had been stained grayish red by fire and smoke. The clouds hung low, as if they were about to press down. Wang Tuchuan's gaze was vacant, the gray-red light of the sky reflected in his pupils.

He coughed twice.

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

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

"Medics! Medics!" The vice-captain's voice sounded like tearing 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 candle flame in the wind, flickering between brightness and dimness, liable to go out at any moment. But he was still alive. At least, he was not dead yet.

"Carry 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 and carefully lifted Wang Tuchuan's body, carrying him toward the rear.

The vice-captain followed beside him, one hand pressed over Wang Tuchuan's wound the entire time, too afraid to let go.

His Reiatsu was still there.

Still there.

But it was growing weaker and weaker.

In the distance.

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

He saw the 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 blown through 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 members' faces: fear, despair, and unwillingness. He did not need to hear them; he could read what they were shouting from the movements of their lips.

Lille lowered his rifle, expressionless.

"Boring."

Thirteenth Division Garrison

East District Two

Saizo Sakigane could not hold on any longer.

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

A translucent evil spirit phantom rose behind him, while black mist from his blade spread across the entire street. Visual interference and mental contamination blanketed Bazz-B and the surrounding Holy Soldiers at once.

Bazz-B's footsteps slowed.

The black mist affected him somewhat, but the Holy Soldiers were the real victims. They collapsed one after another. Some clutched their heads and screamed, some wildly punched at the air, and some curled into balls and trembled. The mental contamination was remarkably effective against ordinary Holy Soldiers, and their wills quickly crumbled beneath the evil spirit's whispers.

But Bazz-B merely frowned. Though he was a Schrift bearer of the Sternritter, he was arrogant, but not the sort who considered himself above everyone else.

"Annoying fog."

He was not affected by the mental contamination. His will was firm, and Saizo Sakigane's mental contamination could barely penetrate it.

Those evil spirit whispers were as powerless as mosquitoes before Bazz-B. They buzzed endlessly, but could not pierce his skin.

Saizo Sakigane knew that.

He had known it from the beginning.

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 more minutes.

But his stamina had already reached its limit.

Saizo Sakigane leaned against half a broken wall, gasping for breath.

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 confrontation 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 initiative.

But today, he could not avoid it.

Bazz-B stood in the middle of the street with both hands in his pockets, his head tilted as he looked at the ruined wall where Saizo Sakigane hid. His red mohawk looked like a flag in the firelight, glaringly conspicuous.

"Hey!"

Bazz-B spoke with impatience in his voice. "Soul Reaper captain, are you only capable of hiding?"

Saizo Sakigane did not answer.

Bazz-B sighed.

"Boring."

He raised his right hand.

Reishi gathered at the tips of his fingers, fierce and violent, forming flames of utmost intensity.

Bazz-B's expression changed.

His casual demeanor turned serious.

Not because he wanted to continue the fight seriously, but because he intended to end it seriously.

"Burning Finger!"

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

"4!"

Four fingers.

Four flames.

Flames shot from his fingertips. They were neither arrows nor beams, but four streams of pure, intensely compressed Reishi flame. 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 tearing through the air.

His body reacted faster than his mind. He threw himself out from behind the broken 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 for coverage.

All four flames struck the broken wall at the same time.

The wall vanished the instant the flames touched it.

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

His sword flew from his hand.

The black mist completely dissipated.

The evil spirit phantom shattered into specks of light.

Saizo Sakigane lay sprawled on the ground, covered in blood. His ears rang, his vision was a blur, and his left leg had been twisted during that roll. His knee was swollen like a bun, and he could not stand at all.

He heard footsteps.

Bazz-B walked over.

He moved neither quickly nor slowly, as if taking a stroll. His leather boots crunched over the rubble, each step landing upon Saizo Sakigane's heartbeat.

The footsteps stopped in front of Saizo Sakigane.

Saizo Sakigane raised his head.

Bazz-B stood before him, looking down at him. His red mohawk swayed in the firelight. The expression on his face was neither killing intent nor anger, but something indescribable—like disappointment, yet also boredom.

"I thought a Captain-Class fighter would last a little longer."

Saizo Sakigane said nothing.

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

Bazz-B shrugged.

He raised his right hand, extending only one finger this time.

"Burning Finger 1."

Flame 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 vibrations and created unbearable heat, turning the entire battlefield into a lava Hell.

The ground cracked open, crimson magma poured from the fissures, and the air was thick with the scent of scorching heat.

Zenteiji stood at the center of the lava, his blade glowing red like heated iron while waves of heat warped the light around him.

Those two ordinary Sternritter members had already ceased to be a match for him after he released his Shikai.

Zenteiji's hand-to-hand combat was brutal enough to make anyone shudder. Combined with Quake Calamity's ultra-high-frequency vibrating slashes, anything touched by his blade would be torn apart at the molecular level.

He severed the first Sternritter member's Reishi bow with one strike, split open his Reishi armor across the 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 thrust his blade through the opponent's Reishi shield. The tip emerged from his chest, and the high-frequency vibrations pulverized his internal organs into mush.

But the battle was far from over.

A Reiatsu emerged from the darkness.

Heavy, oppressive Reiatsu came crushing down like a mountain.

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

That person was tall—extremely tall.

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

He was bare-chested and wore an eyepatch helmet.

In his left hand was a shield that would have been enormous to anyone else, yet looked small in his grasp. In his right was a broadsword that would have been massive to others, yet seemed tiny in his hand.

But his eyes were filled 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 me!"

Zenteiji did not answer. He gripped his sword hilt tightly, and the crimson blade let out an even higher-pitched hum.

He did not hesitate. His Bankai was already active, and the Lava Domain had already spread. He had 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. Its high-frequency vibrations tore apart the Reishi structure at the point of contact. Gerard's neck was cut halfway through, blood spraying from the wound like a crimson waterfall.

Gerard looked 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 hurt~!" he said, with no anger in his voice—if anything, there was 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 wounds across Gerard's body. Chest, abdomen, arms, thighs. Every cut was deep enough to expose bone, every cut enough to kill an ordinary Quincy ten times over.

Gerard rose to his feet every time.

Shandingsi began to grow agitated.

His attacks became faster and fiercer. He pushed Lava Domain to its limit, magma erupting from the ground in an attempt to swallow Gerard. Gerard was drenched in magma, 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 he were counting.

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

Shandingsi did not answer.

Sweat beaded across 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 dealt, the other man would rise again—and each time...

Each time, stronger?

Shandingsi noticed it.

Every time Gerard was reborn, his Reiatsu became a little 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. The temperature of Lava Domain started to fall.

Gerard noticed.

He waited for the instant Shandingsi exposed an opening.

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

The angle of the strike was off, its speed slower, its Reiatsu insufficiently concentrated, because he had begun to hesitate.

Gerard did not hesitate.

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

The instant shield and blade collided, the tremendous impact traveled from the weapon 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 flew from his hand and skidded several meters away.

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

Shandingsi lay on the ground, watching the 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 and branch families and their affiliated Noble Armed Forces, were battling the Holy Soldiers. The Kuchiki clan head himself was Captain-Class, and the clan had several Lieutenant-Class members. That force should have been enough to repel any ordinary Quincy unit in a short time.

But today's enemy was not ordinary.

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

Sweat seeped from 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 members of the Kuchiki Clan, and the honor the clan had accumulated over a thousand years. He had to hold the line.

Blade-light flashed, and another Lieutenant-Class Quincy had his Reishi bow severed, forcing him back. But two immediately stepped forward, attacking from either side.

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

He was waiting.

Waiting for the Schrift holder to make a move.

The Tsunayashiro Clan.

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

"Respectfully offer, Nine Heavens Mirror Valley."

No one understood this blade's ability better than the Tsunayashiro Clan. It was one of the oldest Zanpakutō in Soul Society. Its power was enough to ensure that any wielder with equal Reiatsu would remain undefeated.

The Holy Soldiers charged toward the Tsunayashiro Clan's gates.

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

Every attack from the Holy Soldiers was reflected back.

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

Yet this was not the Zanpakutō's true release.

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

The Tsunayashiro manor could not be taken.

The Shiba Clan.

There were two Captain-Class fighters within the Shiba Clan manor.

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 skilled in Zanjutsu.

With two Captain-Class fighters holding the fort, the Shiba Clan had it easiest among all the nobles.

The Holy Soldiers charged in and were pierced apart by the giant birds; Holy Soldier squad leaders attempted to break through, only to be cut down again and again by Captain-Class blades; Lieutenant-Class Quincy had barely shown themselves before 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 outside to provide aid, leaving the Shihōin Clan manor to be defended by the members stationed behind.

Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament.

The Reishi Armament passed down through generations of the Shihōin Clan. Every piece was priceless, and every piece could save its owner's life at a critical moment.

Clad in Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament, Shihōin Clan members charged recklessly through the Holy Soldiers. Ordinary Reishi arrows bounced off them, while ordinary Reishi blades slid harmlessly 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 his Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament flared, knocking all three arrows away. He did not even glance down at his chest before cutting down the nearest Holy Soldier with one slash.

Outside the Shihōin Clan manor, Holy Soldier corpses had piled into a thick layer.

But the Shihōin Clan had suffered casualties as well. Heaven-Bestowed Divine Armament was not invincible. Lieutenant-Class Quincy could pierce its defenses with Holy Arrows, and then there were those Schrift holders...

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 alone allowed the Kyoraku Clan to fare much better than the other Upper Nobility amid today's chaos.

A captain's Reiatsu could intimidate ordinary Holy Soldiers, and a captain's Zanjutsu could handle Lieutenant-Class Quincy.

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

Deep within the manor was a room with its paper doors tightly shut.

The young children hid behind the doors, curled into balls with their hands over their ears. Their eyes were wide, the firelight and blade-light filtering through the paper doors reflected in their pupils. The shouts of battle, screams, and the whistling of Reishi arrows outside were like countless needles stabbing into their ears.

The clan head's wife was still pregnant, yet she remained in front of the children.

The Ise Clan.

The Ise clan head was a woman, and her spiritual power was weak.

Although their family possessed a Zanpakutō passed down through the generations, it could not be of any use at this moment.

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

It was not superstition. It was fact.

Not a single son-in-law of the Ise Clan throughout the generations had lived past forty. Some died in battle, some of illness, some in accidents, but all of them died.

The current clan head had found a man.

He was powerful—Captain-Class, with strong Reiatsu, refined Zanjutsu, and swift Shunpo. He had not married into the clan, only married an Ise Clan daughter, but by the rules, 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, Zanpakutō drawn and Reiatsu unleashed.

Before him stood one Captain-Class Quincy and six Lieutenant-Class Quincy.

His left arm had been severed, white bone protruding from the elbow as it hung bloodily at his side. A deep blade wound crossed his chest, exposing his ribs. A Holy Arrow had pierced through his right leg, 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 hiding in the house behind him, holding their child.

The Captain-Class Quincy raised his hand, Reishi gathering in his palm.

He saw it.

But he could no longer dodge.