"Your talent... I fear that even in the millions of years of Soul Society's history, few could compare to you."
"I believe that if given the chance to grow, you would undoubtedly surpass me and perhaps even stand on equal footing with His Excellency, the Captain-Commander."
"But unfortunately... you revealed your strength too soon. Today, you are destined to die here!"
The moment those words fell, silvery-white threads wrapped around the white-haired man's body, glinting faintly with a metallic sheen. His entire body was encased in metal threads, leaving only his eyes visible. Six additional arms sprouted from his back, and with the two gripping a long spear, he now resembled an eight-armed Asura.
Masatsuki Aozaki had to admit, the transformation looked impressive—but he couldn't help but scoff.
"You seriously think you can compare yourself to Old Man Yamamoto?"
Sure, he often mocked the old man for being overly dramatic, but the fact remained—Yamamoto had the strength to back it up. And if this white-haired man thought he could measure up, as Yamamoto's disciple, Masatsuki was the first to object.
The white-haired man stomped forward, charging at Masatsuki with ferocious speed.
Masatsuki swung his blade in a downward diagonal slash.
A brilliant blue wave of sword pressure erupted from the edge, shooting toward his opponent.
Hiss!
Metal threads burst from the white-haired man's left side, forming what looked like a massive hand pressing against the ground. With a swift spin, he evaded the incoming strike.
Boom!
A massive fissure, over ten meters long, split the ground ahead. The earth groaned in agony, torn apart by the impact.
Dust and debris swirled in the air as the white-haired man crouched low, his movements swift and predatory as he darted through the thick smoke.
Clang!
Suddenly, the sharp whistle of a spear cutting through the air rang out.
The long spear pierced through the billowing smoke, and as it swept across, the dust scattered like retreating tides.
The gleaming silver battle armor radiated a cold, menacing light. The white-haired man's gaze was piercing, his grip firm on the spear as he lunged forward, thrusting straight at Masatsuki!
Splurt!
The spear's deadly tip slashed across Masatsuki's chest, carving a deep wound as blood sprayed into the air.
"Good thing I dodged in time... This is my chance!"
Blood seeped into his Shihakushō, dyeing it red, but Masatsuki merely gritted his teeth and seized the opening, swinging his blade.
The positioning of the two was strange—
The spear had cut through Masatsuki, yet he remained standing.
The white-haired man lunged past him, his six additional arms outstretched in a grasping motion, as if trying to pull Masatsuki into an embrace.
The radiant glow of sword pressure dispelled the surrounding darkness.
For a brief moment, night turned to day.
Banshō Senran descended in a slanted arc, its immense sword pressure condensed within the blade, yet it did not erupt outward.
Splurt!
Masatsuki's katana sank into the white-haired man's right shoulder, grinding against the silver armor with a shower of sparks.
Boom!
A massive explosion erupted from the impact, with the white-haired man at its center.
"Die already."
Seeing his opponent sent flying, Masatsuki closed in, only to sense a razor-sharp presence surging toward him from within the smoke.
From the swirling dust, several needle-like appendages formed from metal threads shot forward with deadly precision.
Masatsuki glanced at his pierced shoulder but remained unfazed.
Leaping into the air, he swung his blade single-handedly, slicing through the oncoming tendrils.
Just then, the white-haired man's figure reappeared.
With a single wave of his hand, the surrounding smoke instantly dispersed.
He turned his head slightly, glancing at his shoulder—his eyes darkened with fury.
There, a faint but unmistakable wound marred his skin, staining his silver armor with a streak of crimson.
"His swordplay is sharp, and his combat ability is formidable... It's as if I'm facing a second Yamamoto."
"And that strange Zanpakutō that managed to break through my defenses... I suppose it's only fitting for a future disciple of the Captain-Commander..."
The white-haired man muttered to himself, relieved that he had come for this assassination instead of a Lieutenant-level Shinigami. With a flick of his fingers, silver threads coiled through the air, weaving an intricate barrier to prevent Masatsuki Aozaki from getting any closer.
At the same time, he drove his spear into the ground and pressed a hand against his wounded shoulder.
Within moments, the gash was stitched shut.
"Still... the gap in our Reiatsu isn't something that can be closed with mere swordsmanship or a strong spiritual body."
"Don't underestimate a Captain-class, brat!!"
He let out a furious roar, tinged with humiliation.
A Captain-level fighter, being pushed to such a disgraceful state by a Lieutenant... No one would believe it.
Clang!
Masatsuki Aozaki had already closed the distance, his glowing blue blade striking down at the white-haired man's outstretched palm.
The katana cut through his silver gauntlet—but then stopped, caught in place.
Countless silver threads erupted from the gauntlet, twisting and coiling around the blade, locking it in place. The silver armor on the white-haired man's body pulsed as if alive, its threads surging wildly to ensnare Banshō Senran.
A fierce wind scattered the dust and debris in all directions.
A grin spread beneath the white-haired man's mask.
For most Shinigami, losing control of their Zanpakutō was the worst possible scenario. Their combat relied on harmonizing their swordplay with their Reiatsu, balancing attack and defense.
Once their Zanpakutō was taken from them, their battle strength would plummet.
And without that troublesome blade capable of piercing his defenses, this brat was no longer a threat.
The white-haired man bared his teeth in triumph, raising his right hand as he shifted into a stance.
Silver threads twisted chaotically, coating his arm completely. The six metal limbs on his back grew even thicker, their steel sheen reflecting the chaos of battle.
His iron fist was ready to strike.
Yet, as he gathered power in his arm, exposing gaps in his chest armor, Masatsuki Aozaki stepped forward without hesitation.
It was as if he had been waiting for this exact moment.
His left hand clenched into a tight fist, gathering Reiatsu. Then, with explosive force, he threw a punch.
Ikkotsu!!
A single devastating strike slammed into the white-haired man's chest.
Boom!
A shockwave of white energy blasted out from his back.
His face turned deathly pale as the silver armor across his torso shattered, revealing a deep concave dent in his chest.
His grip on Banshō Senran loosened, but because he had been restraining the katana just moments ago, he didn't immediately get blown away.
His eyes widened in disbelief.
His body was failing him, but his Zanpakutō had yet to release its Shikai. The six mechanical arms surged forward, slicing through the air with ruthless precision.
Masatsuki Aozaki's lips curled into a bloodthirsty grin.
He let go of Banshō Senran—then lunged forward, fists flying.
Flesh clashed against steel in a relentless flurry of blows.
Even as his hands grew bloodied and torn, he didn't stop. He struck again and again, until—
Crack!
One by one, the metal arms shattered.
The white-haired man staggered back half a step.
Masatsuki Aozaki stepped forward.
With his opponent's defenses in ruins, he raised his fists again, unwilling to give him even a second to recover.
Reiatsu surged through his hands as he threw his final strike.
Sōkotsu!!
"What... is this—?"
The white-haired man barely had time to register his horror before both of Masatsuki's fists crashed into his abdomen.
BOOM!
A thunderous shockwave burst outward, rippling through the battlefield.
This time, there was no resistance.
The white-haired man's body was sent hurtling back like a severed kite, crashing violently into a wall.
Dust and rubble exploded from the impact.
Masatsuki Aozaki caught the falling Banshō Senran, sheathed his blade, and vanished in a flash of Shunpo.
...
Drip. Drip.
The faint sound of blood dripping onto the ground echoed in the silence.
Then, from the rubble, the white-haired man's figure slowly emerged once more.
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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