"Does something that small even deserve to be called Bankai?" Jugram Haschwalth said this for no apparent reason. He had studied the Shinigami's Bankai extensively himself, so logically, he should never have said such a thing.
But it was as though some unseen will had intervened.
And made him misspeak.
"Zanka no Tachi, West: Zanjitsu Gokui."
Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto looked at him impassively, ignored the provocation, and stepped forward.
A thick robe of flame covered his body, its heat enough to instantly vaporize any substance that came near him.
He took one step forward, and the ground beneath his feet instantly sank into a shallow pit, its edges burned into smooth, glasslike crystals.
Haschwalth quickly stepped back.
He could only raise a Reishi shield and Blut Vene, yet even when he drew slightly closer, these defenses groaned under the strain.
Fortunately, he could avoid the heat waves in the central area by constantly changing positions.
"Trying to run, you naive youngster!"
But Yamamoto was merely old, not dead.
His Shunpo was virtually unrivaled among the Shinigami. Only Yoruichi Shihōin, known as the Flash Goddess, was slightly better than him in technique.
But better technique did not mean greater strength.
Raw stats mattered too, young fellow.
So, in such a confined space, the danger of their darting pursuit far exceeded Haschwalth's expectations, especially since Yamamoto's Heroic Spirit body had received an enormous boost in Reiatsu while his Bankai was active.
It took only the blink of an eye.
The moment Haschwalth exposed a tiny opening, the blade swept out horizontally.
Before the heat wave produced by the passing blade even reached him, Haschwalth's side had already been completely charred.
"Zanka no Tachi: North, Tenchi Kaijin!"
The blade's light resembled burning charcoal in the dimness of a snowy night, glowing faintly red,