"Co on! Bring more!"
Kenpachi Zaraki roared, eyes blazing with a wild, bloodthirsty gleam.
"I’m getting fired up! Don’t disappoint ! Don’t you dare back down!!"
What a damn lunatic!
His words hit the Quincy like a blade, piercing straight into their pride—their arrogance, their contempt for the Shinigami.
Now they clenched their teeth, eyes burning with fury.
Since joining the Gotei 13, Kenpachi Zaraki had mostly cut down weak Hollows—at best, a Gillian.
Occasionally, he’d wander into Rukongai and hunt down so reckless drifters.
It was a bloody life, but for Kenpachi, it was exactly what he craved. He lived for the thrill of fighting strong opponents, that rush of teetering on the edge of life and death.
But in recent years, there had been fewer and fewer nos breaking into Soul Society.
And sparring with fellow Shinigami? You could never really let loose.
He was itching for a real fight.
...
Amid the hail of arrows, Mashiro Kuna charged like a wild stallion through the storm.
Clad in the Shihōin Clan’s tal armor, the barrage of Reishi arrows bounced off her like raindrops—barely enough to scratch an itch.
Nearby, three Quincy scrambled to raise their longswords, bracing for her assault.
But Mashiro’s fists crashed down like a raging storm.
In a blur of motion, the three were pulverized—flesh torn apart, bodies left a mangled ss.
The surrounding Quincy stared in horror, then roared in fury:
"Everyone, attack together! Kill them!"
Suddenly, a flash of cold steel tore through the air.
A dozen Quincy were run clean through by a blade stretching dozens of ters.
With a light flick, the blade swept across—bisecting their bodies and spraying blood in every direction.
Through it all, Gin Ichimaru stood with his usual calm expression.
Then, from beneath him, a wave of cold surged upward.
Several Quincy nearby let out piercing screams before being flash-frozen into a grotesque, conjoined ice sculpture.
Not far away, a young white-haired boy stood in silence.
"The Shinigami are sending kids to the battlefield now? What are you all waiting for—keep firing!"
One Quincy shouted the order without hesitation.
Arrows rained down again, but the white-haired boy gripped the chain at the end of his blade tightly in both hands.
With a powerful swing, the sword spun rapidly, condensing a massive, circular wall of ice before him.
It ford just in ti, blocking the full barrage.
"So the stuff Masatsuki taught actually cos in handy,"
Tōshirō Hitsugaya muttered with a smirk.
Then, with biting sarcasm, he added:
"But I thought proud Quincy didn’t do sneak attacks?"
"Bastard!"
The Quincies were enraged by his mocking tone.
They raised their Reishi sabers and surged forward, charging straight at Hitsugaya.
At that mont, Ryuuseki and Izumo led the Seated Officers and foot soldiers in a swift counter-encirclent.
"Lieutenant Hitsugaya, look out!"
Ryuuseki shouted, cleaving downward with his blade, slicing a Quincy’s head nearly in half.
Izumo was just as fierce, throwing himself into the fray and cutting down enemies with precision.
One Quincy raised a tal round shield glowing with blue Reishi to block.
But Izumo’s swordsmanship was ruthless. With a twist of the wrist, he swept his blade across the shield, knocking it aside.
In the sa motion, he carved a deep gash into the Quincy’s arm—then spun and slit his throat.
Without pause, he continued slashing through the enemies around him.
The 11th Division knew their mission: eliminate every Quincy.
They had no ti to wonder whether these Quincy were good or evil in daily life—innocent or covered in blood.
On the battlefield, thinking too much would get you killed.
The only thing that mattered was this:
They were the enemy.
"Damn it, why haven’t the Sternritters arrived yet?"
The Quincies stared in terror at the blood-soaked battlefield, panic rising in their eyes. The braver ones tried to resist, while those too terrified dropped to their knees, begging for rcy.
But whether they resisted or pleaded, the executioners of the 11th Division had no intention of sparing them.
This was war!
Among the Gotei 13, no division understood war better than the combat-hardened 11th.
Show no rcy—hesitation only gets your comrades killed.
Our comrades can only be defeated by our own hands. That’s the creed Captain Masatsuki laid down for the 11th Division!
So die, Quincy!!
Aside from Yamamoto and Retsu Unohana, who were temporarily observing the battle, even the thousand-year veteran Shunsui Kyōraku had stepped onto the field.
Captain-level Shinigami led their squads like ravenous wolves, launching an unrelenting assault. Their forms darted like lightning, blades gleaming with deadly light.
Each swing unleashed a spray of blood, cutting down enemies without rcy.
They advanced steadily toward Silbern, a black tide that could not be stopped.
However, despite the Shinigami’s fierce montum, their numbers were still limited.
Against the enemy’s human wave tactics, the pressure was mounting.
More Quincy reinforcents poured in from all directions, their numbers swelling. Arrows rained down like a storm, saturating the air.
Each arrow was infused with powerful Reiryoku, posing a serious threat to the Shinigami.
Strangely, though, despite their overwhelming numbers, not a single Quincy with Captain-level Reiatsu had appeared.
Shunsui Kyōraku knew the Wandenreich had Captain-class Quincies.
Rōjūrō Ōtoribashi had lost to one.
Even without his Bankai, he wouldn’t have ended up in such a sorry state unless he’d faced a powerhouse. Now, he was still recovering in the 4th Division.
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
A storm of Reishi arrows ca pouring down.
Shunsui Kyōraku and Tōshirō Hitsugaya swung their Zanpakutō, summoning wind and ice to block the barrage.
But there were just too many. Even with their full strength, so arrows slipped through, wounding the Shinigami.
In truth, the Quincy had far more mid-level Seated Officers than the Shinigami.
That made these arrows a serious threat.
The only reason the Shinigami could push forward so quickly was because Captain-level fighters were leading the charge from the front.
The most eye-catching among them was Kenpachi Zaraki.
He tore into the enemy lines like a wild beast, charging headfirst into the arrow storm, swinging his massive blade with savage force.
Shhk! Shhk! Shhk!
The sounds of flesh being torn apart, blades clashing, roars and screams all mingled into chaotic symphony.
Kenpachi Zaraki, cloaked in black and drenched in blood, stood surrounded by the mangled corpses of over a dozen enemies.
The crazed beast panted heavily, the hand gripping his sword trembling slightly—not from exhaustion, but from excitent.
It had been far too long since he’d felt the thrill of such unrestrained carnage!
His enemies weren’t strong—but they were better than nothing.
When he saw a Quincy still clutching his sword, trembling but standing firm, Zaraki nodded with satisfaction.
No retreat. Weak, but not without courage.
And for that...his bravery deserved praise.
In that mont, the wild beast regained his clarity—but not his speed. His sword continued its deadly arc without pause.
Splat!
To die by the sword—that was the highest praise one could offer the brave.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / PinkSnake
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