The Schattenbereich, Soul Society's shadow realm.
Bazz-B lay quietly on a stone bed, eyes shut.
Compared to the living world or Soul Society, the Schattenbereich was starkly monotonous, utterly dull.
For the first wave of Quincy 'vanguards' sent here, there was little to do beyond sleeping and training, their only company the others around them.
Worse still, the air, sunlight, and earth were frozen in absolute stillness, unchanging.
Though Quincy had fewer human needs, the boredom gnawed, especially for soone as fiery as Bazz-B.
But...
His thoughts stirred, eyelids cracking open a sliver.
His gaze caught Jugram, standing silently outside, still holding his sword stance.
If anyone in this shadow world clung to old habits, relentlessly honing themselves, it was this fool, wasn't it?
"Tch."
Bazz-B smirked, sitting up with a stretch, crossing his legs on the bed, muttering under his breath:
"...No way I'm losing to you."
A Quincy's physique demanded training, but more vital was mastering reishi through ditation, the cornerstone of self-improvent for those without Zanpakutō or Yhwach's bestowed gifts.
Compared to most, Bazz-B was a prodigy.
Barely a soldier for long, he could already draw reishi from a hundred-ter radius during ditation with ease.
But against his benchmark, he fell far short.
Seated, Bazz-B focused, straining to siphon stray reishi from around Jugram's sword stance.
Yet, the mont his soul brushed Jugram's domain, it slamd into an iron wall.
Unyielding.
No matter how he clawed, he couldn't wrest a single particle from Jugram's control.
One in deep ditation, the other rely holding a stance, the gap was staggering.
Sweat beaded on Bazz-B's temples.
Only then did Jugram, mid-stance, seem to notice sothing.
He glanced toward the inner chamber, expressionless, then subtly loosened his grip on the surrounding reishi, as if by accident.
A faint trickle of reishi slipped through, painstakingly 'seized' by Bazz-B.
"Hey!"
Bazz-B's eyes snapped open, a triumphant grin spreading as he shot a provocative glance at Jugram.
But seeing the man still locked in his stance, oblivious, Bazz-B's smug look faded, replaced by a bored slump.
Since witnessing that Shinigami monk's power, Jugram had ramped up his training, hadn't he?
Bazz-B's gaze lowered.
Even now, he could recall the cowardice he felt, shielded by Jugram, facing that towering monk.
The mory alone made his fists clench.
What was the state of the empire now?
And Yhwach...
Damn it!
He had to get stronger!
Bazz-B gritted his teeth, seething.
But as he sank back into ditation, Jugram suddenly frowned, turning toward the distance.
In that instant, a black 'dot' pierced the dim, pale void.
As the subtle spatial ripple erged, Bazz-B, still ditating, leapt from the bed, pausing briefly before sprinting outside.
He gripped a standard Quincy spear tightly.
Uncertainty gripped him.
Rushing out, he shouted over his shoulder: "Jugram! Alert the others!"
"It might be those damned Shinigami attacking!"
Yet Jugram, as if deaf to his cries, walked slowly toward the disturbance.
"Hey! Jugram!"
Bazz-B's face twisted in shock, yelling louder.
"Such fatal stupidity, Bazz-B."
As he shouted, a lanky man yawned, strolling lazily from the room, sighing in exasperation.
"Huh?!"
Bazz-B whipped around, glaring. "What'd you say, you bastard Askin?!"
His eyes, though, flickered with wariness.
Despite his impulsive, brash deanor, Askin was remarkably restrained.
The future 'Lethal Dose,' now a Sternritter candidate, Askin Nakk Le Vaar, pointed lazily at his head. "Use your brain, Bazz-B, candidate knight."
"If it's an 'enemy,' that ans our main force outside is already wiped out, no one else could know this place."
"And against foes who could annihilate our army, we'd have no chance of survival."
"But with His Majesty's wisdom, would he ever allow that?"
Askin ambled forward, wiping sleep from his eyes. "The answer's obvious."
"It's one of ours."
"..."
Bazz-B froze.
Turning, he saw the other candidate knights drifting toward the reishi fluctuation, unhurried.
He seed the only one on edge.
Glancing at the crowd, then at his spear, he tossed it aside, hurrying after Jugram.
Whatever happened, that guy wouldn't ss up!
...
Clack!
Black boots struck the shadow-forged ground, ringing sharply.
Yhwach strode forward, his cloak billowing.
Behind him trailed several Sternritter in pristine white uniforms.
As they erged from Bambara's spatial tunnel, they found dozens of candidate knights kneeling in formation, waiting silently.
"Hail His Majesty-"
Yhwach's gaze swept the crowd, settling on Jugram at the forefront, nodding slightly.
"Jugram, you've done well."
"All thanks to Your Majesty's grace."
Jugram's deanor remained calm and courteous, unwavering.
Yhwach offered only this brief praise before striding through the kneeling crowd, eyes forward.
"Rise."
His flat command ca only after passing them.
Yet even this small acknowledgnt sparked glances among the candidates, disdain, doubt, mockery, and envy.
Jugram ignored them, standing impassively.
To most Quincy, Yhwach was a supre deity, an untouchable faith.
As Sternritter candidates, their devotion was beyond question.
But such fervent belief often bred other emotions.
"Oh-"
As Jugram prepared to follow Yhwach, a stunning woman with golden hair tipped her military cap, boldly slinging an arm around his shoulders, chuckling as if teasing a younger brother:
"To earn His Majesty's praise."
"You're quite the star!"
Her uniform hung open, revealing a daring expanse, her shirt buttons straining as if one wrong move might snap them.
She tilted her head, leaning close to Jugram, her breath teasing. "I wonder if your 'manly' side is just as impressive?"
Jugram remained expressionless, unmoved:
"Knight, if you have no further orders, I'll take my leave."
His near-indifferent gaze swept over the woman, her breath warm and close.
Even facing a true Sternritter, blessed with Yhwach's 'Holy Blood,' he showed no fear.
The woman's lips curled into a smile.
Such a stoic boy, perfect for teasing!
But before she could press further, a blonde girl passing by spoke coldly: "Liestya, His Majesty is watching."
The woman called 'Liestya' froze, instinctively glancing ahead.
Her vision caught only the retreating figure of His Majesty Yhwach.
"talica!!"
Liestya spun around, raising her voice.
But by the ti she turned, the blonde girl nad 'talica' had already hurried off, trailing Yhwach's steps.
Liestya was left alone, visibly flustered.
"Liestya, you'd better tone it down."
A towering figure behind her cautioned in a low voice: "These candidates can't handle your 'jokes.'"
"Tch!"
Liestya shoved Jugram aside, storming after the group, snapping back:
"Mind your own business, you oaf Adalbert!"
The giant trailing them was none other than the one who'd delivered the war challenge to Soul Society.
Adalbert scratched his head, grinning foolishly at Liestya's swaying figure.
Jugram, as if blind to the scene, moved with asured steps, silently following.
His peripheral glance briefly swept the Sternritter trailing Yhwach.
Six of them?
Are these all that remain, or...
His thoughts raced as he quickened his pace.
His brow furrowed.
...
"Ryōma, this is your share."
Makoto spoke casually, pressing three small, knuckle-sized black beads into Kuruyashiki Ryōma's hand.
He always looked out for his old subordinate.
Ryōma stared at the beads in his palm, lifting his head in confusion:
"Makoto-sama, what are these...?"
Makoto explained offhandedly: "They're called 'Hollow Pills,' a recent product from the Research and Developnt Institute, distilled from Hollow reiatsu. They're highly effective against Quincy."
"When you use them, mix them into your Kidō before firing."
"It'll infuse your reiryoku with traces of Hollow reiatsu."
"Eh?"
Ryōma gaped at the unassuming beads: "There's such a thing?"
"Don't go blabbing to others."
Makoto grinned: "These are exclusive to fifth seats and above. Supply's pretty limited."
Ryōma carefully tucked the Hollow Pills into his sleeve, nodding earnestly:
"Yes, Makoto-sama!"
But as he bowed, a large hand silently clamped onto the crown of his head.
Ryōma froze.
Then, Makoto's voice, laced with a 'benevolent' smile, dropped low: "And... you've been spreading rumors about , haven't you?"
"Don't run after the war!"
"I'll tan your hide."
Ryōma's body jerked, stiff as a board.
Having witnessed Makoto's clash with the Captain-Commander, no one could doubt his strength.
At most, they might question his... tastes.
"Ehh?!"
"M-Makoto-sama, I-I didn't say anything false!"
The little guy stamred, eyes darting as if searching for ants to study.
"Fuck off!"
Makoto kicked his rear, sending him stumbling several ters, trailing the main force.
"Co back, and I'll deal with you."
"Hehehehe!"
Ryōma chuckled awkwardly, mumbling a vague reply before hurrying after the troops.
After a few steps, he paused, waving back.
His oversized Zanpakutō hung awkwardly on his small fra, comically mismatched.
Makoto said nothing, watching quietly.
Until Ryōma vanished.
His expression turned grave.
Massive reiatsu fluctuations had been detected again in Districts 28 and 29 of East Rukongai.
Yet, the Research and Developnt Institute's scans hadn't imdiately picked up traces of Yhwach or the powerful Quincy from the last war.
Out of caution, Yamamoto led the main force to engage.
The captains chosen for the 'Yhwach Interception Unit,' along with hundreds of Third Division Shinigami, were left to guard the Seireitei.
Makoto, part of the 'Yhwach Second Line of Defense,' was among them.
"What's that?"
Senjumaru stood beside him, teasing: "A guy like you, worrying about others?"
"Isn't that obvious?"
Makoto replied carelessly: "So, if a small unit breaches the Seireitei, as we suspect, you'd better hide behind , Senjumaru."
"If you died, I'd be in a real bind."
"..."
His blunt words caught the elegant woman off guard, her gaze settling on the young man.
Her red lips pursed.
A smile flickered across her refined face, quickly masked by a feigned chill:
"You, Makoto, always sweet-talking the won around you."
Makoto tilted his head toward her: "I'm serious."
"Without you, Senjumaru, those Hollow Pills wouldn't have been rushed out so fast, right?"
The next tool as useful as her wouldn't show up for centuries.
As he mused, a bony hand shoved sothing into his arms, dropping a small, dark pouch.
"Huh?"
Makoto blinked, clutching the black omamori-like bag, turning to Senjumaru in confusion:
"What's this?"
Clatter! Clatter!
Senjumaru's wheels rolled toward the gate, her voice cool and sharp:
"If you don't want to die, keep my omamori close."
"Truly a troubleso man!"
Makoto watched her back, then the omamori, chuckling softly, murmuring:
"Got it, got it."
***
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
***
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