In the blink of an eye, the man before him outpaced Makoto's vision, leaving only a ferocious howl of wind roaring in his ears.
Yorita saw everything with crystalline clarity.
The wind whispered every sound to him.
Sizzle!
A sound like flames blazing at breakneck speed tore through the air, the fierce friction of his Shihakushō against the velocity.
The jet-black spear danced like a dragon, its icy tip striking first!
A piercing thrust!
Screeeeech!
At the last possible instant, Makoto's form slid sideways. His blade deflected the spear's point, igniting a cascade of sparks in midair.
Yorita didn't relent. The spear's tip dipped briefly before retracting, a fleeting probe, and then he vanished like a phantom, reappearing from another angle.
To the naked eye, it seemed as though three or four distinct figures encircled Makoto at once.
Yet, faced with this dire onslaught, the young shinigami before him stood unshaken. His nerves might as well have been forged of steel, showing not a hint of retreat.
Yorita's movements quickened further.
Faster! Faster! Still faster!
At that moment, his heart blazed with indignation. His eyes seemed to reflect the lifeless forms of those two boys, fury searing his lungs.
He couldn't fathom it.
These so-called Genji School's Shinigami were always like this.
Inexplicably treating all Seireitei Shinigami as mortal foes!
Inexplicably slaughtering the nobles!
Inexplicably sparking this damned war!
To protect their kin in the Seireitei, whether the late Head of the Kuchiki, the still-fighting Head of the Tsunayashiro, or himself, barely seasoned in battle, every one of them fought tooth and nail in this accursed conflict.
What drove these people to such madness?!
Power? Wealth? Fame? Or a sheer lust for slaughter?
The hearts of men could never truly connect.
Everyone knew that.
But Yorita, raised in the sheltered halls of the Seireitei, couldn't begin to imagine what cruel reasoning could justify such brutality.
A profound sorrow threatened to spill from his chest.
Under this relentless barrage, even Makoto seemed to falter, forced back step by step.
"Jikugoka - Retsu!!!"
With a roar that spared no cost, a storm of spirit particles erupted from the spear's tip. In an instant, it swelled toward Makoto, exploding into a chaotic maelstrom of air!
In that heartbeat, the buildings behind Makoto shattered in unison.
A straight path was carved through the rubble.
"Huff… huff…"
Unleashing that strike at full force took its toll, even on Yorita. The earlier punch to his gut left a sweet tang in his throat, though he swallowed it back.
He refused to show weakness before these fiends.
"Ah, found it."
Yet a startlingly casual voice broke through, catching Yorita off guard.
Not dead yet?
As he steeled himself to muster another breath and press the fight, he saw the young man turn away, toward a palace blasted open by his own attack.
On its shattered plaque, the faint character "Reigan" lingered.
"What trickery are you plotting now?!"
Yorita no longer trusted these vicious bandits, his gaze chilling as it fixed on the man.
"Of course, a trap laid just for you."
Makoto's reply was disarmingly frank.
Before Yorita could process it, Makoto's form vanished, Shunpo carrying him into the dark maw of the palace.
Yorita followed on instinct, scarcely a thought spared.
But as he reached the half-collapsed side of the structure, his steps halted.
He stared into the shadows, momentarily lost.
Before him loomed a vast palace.
Its sprawling walls, bound with chains of iron and kishi stone, held a throng of children, tattered, hollow-eyed, listless.
Each bore a faint flicker of reiatsu.
Clearly, they were Pluses with spiritual potential.
From the depths, a faint rustling, like gnawing, drifted through the stillness.
Cold.
Silent.
Makoto strolled down the palace corridor, steps calm and measured, his voice soft, as if the man behind him were beneath notice.
"You've heard of Reigan Pills, right?"
"A secret drug to forcibly boost reiatsu."
"Back in District 40, we tortured the recipe out of a captured Asaimon."
He paused in the hallway, turning to face Yorita.
"...Select youths with spiritual talent, shatter their Saketsu, preserve their Hakusui, sustain their lives with drugs, and subject them to prolonged agony."
"Do you know what happens then?"
Since entering the palace, Yorita had seemed sluggish, perhaps blindsided, or perhaps grappling with a clash between this reality and his ingrained beliefs, a glitch in his mind.
At Makoto's question, he responded almost reflexively, "What happens?"
Makoto's expression turned grim. "…The Chain of Fate is unique to earthbound spirits meant to be severed in the living world and reemerge."
Yorita's body shuddered.
He knew full well what earthbound spirits and the Chain of Fate were. Every Shinigami did.
For when that chain gnawed its way to the heart, hollowing it out, a Pluses became a Hollow, the very genesis of their kind.
But wouldn't that mean turning people into…
"Ah, it's already begun."
As he spoke, the faint rustling from moments ago swelled audibly.
Not far off, a boy's body arched violently, his face contorted in silent agony.
Crunch! Crunch! Crunch!
Yorita whipped his head toward the sound.
Then he saw it clearly, the chain at the boy's chest had morphed into two writhing, insect-like maws, gnawing at itself. The links shrank rapidly until only a final fragment of the Hakusui remained.
Clang!
A steel pipe suspended above plunged straight into the boy's chest.
It engulfed the Hakusui's position entirely.
Yorita's stomach lurched, a wave of nausea clawing up his throat.
When the pipe withdrew, the Pluses on the ground was dead.
A hollow void gaped at the center of its chest.
The pipe flipped, and with a slick slurp, it disgorged a murky sludge into a furnace perched atop the palace.
The process unfolded like a fully automated slaughterhouse.
Precise. Fluid. Efficient.
Makoto turned to him. "See? That's how a Reigan Pill is made."
Yorita felt the revulsion in his chest intensify, his body trembling uncontrollably, a primal fear born from the shattering of his worldview.
After all, just seconds ago, he'd been convinced of his own righteousness.
Makoto wasn't done. "And that's not all. Even these boys, the consumables aren't ordinary."
"They're all artificial constructs, dubbed secret children or hidden youths."
"As humans, they were already dead back in the slaughterhouse."
"This is the secret to the Asaimon's enduring prosperity."
At those words, Yorita's mind flashed to the lavish feast he'd savored that evening, unprecedented delicacies, a dazzling array of opulence.
What had that been…?
"Urgh..."
A rainbow torrent erupted from his mouth.
Makoto stepped closer with a soft chuckle, patting his back. "Don't worry, they wouldn't dare serve it to you."
"You're the new Head of the Shiba, right?"
"Forgive my slow recognition."
"But…"
Still smiling, Makoto slowly drove his Asauchi into the chest of the trembling, broken man before him. A muted thud sounded.
As if yearning to cleanse himself of some dark stain, Yorita offered no resistance.
Makoto lowered his voice, whispering into his ear, "Now, do you understand why we have to fight?"
When the words fell, his Zanpakuto slid free, leaving only a pool of crimson and a fallen man.
Perhaps because it was a calculated strike, no prompt appeared this time.
Makoto flicked the blood from his blade, sighing softly. "I told you it was a trap."
…
[Bond Event: The Awakened One]
[Your bond level with Yorita Shiba has increased! ↑]
[Reward: Reiatsu Rank +1]
[Acquired Bond Trait: Flawless Circle]
[Reiatsu: Tier-5 Mid → Tier-5 High]
[Bond Trait: Flawless Circle - Within a one-meter radius, your body instinctively reacts at the peak of its neural reflexes.]
[Note: The clearer one's mind, the more they must learn to protect themselves.]
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
If you want to read up to 50 chapters ahead, don't hesitate to visit our patron: pat reon . com / XElenea (remove space)