Gray sideburns and a coiled beard flared outward.
Surging power didn't necessarily make one truly invincible, but it certainly instilled an invincible mindset first.
Tsunayashiro Shōgo had awakened to this mindset.
Even among the Five Great Noble Families, those with Tier-3 reiatsu or higher, masters of Bankai were rare talents. The foes he'd just faced had clearly crossed into Tier-2 territory, each one a formidable adversary he once couldn't hope to challenge.
But the Soul King's bone had changed everything.
Shōgo could feel it distinctly.
Strength, speed, reflexes, stamina, resilience…
His entire spiritual body seed reborn from within, radiating a vitality so intense it felt like a second birth.
Every movent from anyone around him appeared as slow as a snail's crawl in his eyes.
Their every strike felt feeble and weightless.
Be it swordplay, abilities, Hakuda, or Shunpo, all were the sa.
At this mont, he brimd with unparalleled confidence.
It seed all those contingency plans he'd prepared were destined to go to waste.
He didn't need them anymore!
In this mont, he alone was unmatched.
With this conviction, Shōgo raised his Zanpakutō high pointing it at Yamamoto.
Yet, for so reason, after witnessing that scene, neither Yamamoto, Unohana, nor the so-called Captains showed any sign of concern, only cold and calm expressions.
As if… the instant defeat of their comrades ant nothing to them.
Yamamoto stood quietly in place.
"Is that so?"
"This is your trump card, then."
"If it's only to this extent…"
As he spoke, he tugged Ryūjin Jakka from his waist with a soft puff, planting it upright on the ground. He then stepped forward, striding directly toward Shōgo.
Yamamoto's tone was even, almost indifferent.
"I don't..."
"Seems to not need a blade."
With those words, he deftly shed his sleeves, peeling off his black Shihakushō to either side. Rolling his shoulders, he revealed a physique forged like tempered steel.
Yamamoto's body bore a network of scars, so fine and intricate, others jagged and fierce.
Each mark was a testant to countless battles.
In the distance, Makoto kicked aside an oncoming foe, stomping its skull into the ground and grinding it underfoot, his eyes fixed on the central battlefield.
He, too, watched this unfold.
In truth, he and his comrades all understood one thing clearly.
That clash would determine the outco of this final battle.
[Yoo! That old man's stripping down!]
[He's definitely gonna grab that fool and make him a punching bag!]
Hearing this, several nearby allies turned to glance at Makoto.
Makoto's face darkened with exasperation.
Yet, inexplicably, he was starting to get used to it.
Good thing they were far enough away.
Shōgo, watching this display, seed to take it as an insult. His eyes widened abruptly, staring at Yamamoto in disbelief, his gray beard trembling faintly with the twitching of his face.
Finally, he laughed in sheer outrage.
"Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto!"
"Are you mocking with this absurd stunt?"
His tone was scathing, even bypassing honorifics to call Yamamoto by his full na, an act bordering on outright disrespect.
"Haven't you realized it yet?"
"How pitiful."
Yamamoto ca to a stop before him.
That calm gaze carried a hint of disdain.
"Indeed, if judged by reiatsu alone, you might actually manage to intimidate ."
"But…"
"Even among the pinnacles of Shinigami, there are disparities."
Yamamoto looked at him... no, more precisely, at the reiatsu enveloping him.
The power from the Soul King's bone poured ceaselessly from Shōgo's body, forming a near-domain web of Reishi around him.
But at the sa ti, unrefined Reishi drifted aimlessly about him, floating and swaying, spilling outward in all directions. With Shōgo's own crude and feeble control, he couldn't fully harness this power, let alone compress or wield it effectively.
If one had to liken it to sothing, it was like an enormous balloon constantly being inflated.
Vast, yet fragile.
To Yamamoto who had honed himself through relentless training, climbing step by step to this point with near-perfect mastery over his body and reiatsu, this flaw was glaringly obvious.
Perhaps provoked by that scornful gaze, or emboldened by faith in his own strength, Shōgo reacted.
Shōgo's voice suddenly rose, a fierce roar tearing from his throat.
"Then DIE!"
In the next instant, his form vanished from its spot.
That speed, driven by sheer, unbridled force, pinpointed his destination with stark clarity yet it remained blindingly fast.
His hair and beard flared wildly as his withered arm gripped the tachi. The gleaming blade carved a brilliant arc through the air, like a ribbon of white silk unfurling.
Behind them, a glint of cold light flashed across Yanbara Kinraku's glasses.
Had this old man unleashed such a strike earlier, neither Saitō nor Katori would have stood a chance, they'd have been cleaved in two on the spot.
There was no reasoning, no excuse.
This was raw power, pure and simple, on the level of reiatsu and might.
But…
Kinroku's gaze shifted forward.
Facing this dazzling slash, Yamamoto rely watched in silence.
Until the blade reached the very brink of striking him.
Ding!
Yamamoto faced it head-on and extended a finger.
Shōgo, pouring everything into this blow, suddenly widened his eyes as if they might burst from their sockets.
At the apex of that descending blade...
Yamamoto's finger rested calmly and pinching the edge.
"Guh… guh…"
Shōgo's mouth gaped, a guttural growl rumbling from his throat as if he were suppressing a scream, unable to form words.
It was precisely because his senses were so heightened in this mont.
That he wore such an expression.
He could feel it vividly, in that fleeting instant, the densely compressed Reishi coating Yamamoto's fingers sliced through his own reiatsu barrier like a hot knife through butter, vibrating effortlessly as it pierced the layers of equal-tier Reishi enveloping him.
Then, a single finger pressed against his blade.
Yet despite sensing all this so clearly, he could muster no effective resistance.
What… what was this…?
Yamamoto stood there, bare-chested, gazing at him calmly.
"Hard to grasp, isn't it?"
"In a Shinigami's war, reiatsu often plays a decisive role."
"But that's the dominance of the superior over the inferior."
"On the contrary…"
"When two individuals' reiatsu stands on the sa plane, the difference manifests elsewhere."
As his words fell, Shōgo seed to realize sothing. Instinctively, he tried to pull back, straining to wrench his blade free, his aged face twisting with panic.
But those seemingly frail fingers clamped down like a vise, unyielding and immovable.
Yamamoto raised his left hand, clenching it into a fist.
"Watch closely."
"This… is the true pinnacle of a Shinigami!"
In the next mont, the fingertips pinching the blade snapped back. His battle-hardened arm unleashed a trendous force, yanking Shōgo's arm forward with such power that a faint crack of straining bones echoed through the air.
At the sa ti, the surface of Yamamoto's clenched fist erupted with a terrifying reiatsu, condensed and ferocious to the extre, wrapped in a thin sheen of air.
Power surged from the ground, coursing through his waist and legs. The swelling reiatsu climbed along his spine and muscles, channeling into his arm.
Finally, at the mont it could no longer be contained, he thrust it forward.
A single, perfectly focused point of force.
It slamd into Shōgo's gaunt, shriveled chest.
His ribcage and organs caved inward like they'd been struck by a cannonball.
Yamamoto's roar thundered through the battleground.
"Jūkotsu!!!" [1]
In that instant, the grassland erupted into a tidal surge radiating from Yamamoto, an imnse, tightly honed force exploding outward, piercing straight ahead.
Everything in Shōgo's direct wake, soil, boulders, roots, and splintered wood was obliterated, reduced to swirling dust.
In a fleeting mont, it carved a straight, kiloter-long trench through the earth.
The entire Valley of Screams seed to fall silent for a few seconds under the weight of that punch.
Until, at last, a colossal boom, as if the world itself were overturning, pierced the clouds.
At that mont, Makoto watched quietly.
For so reason, a classic question surfaced in his mind.
"Have you ever seen this old man in his pri?"
Whether others would witness it in the future, he didn't know.
But at least today, he had.
---
[1] Jūkotsu (Decuple Bone) is a stronger version of Ikkotsu (Single Bone) and Sōkotsu (Double Bone).
Decuple = 10
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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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