Chapter Fifty-Two: The Prelude to a Bloody Battle

Night...

A deep yawn escaped one of the soul reapers stationed by the main gate.

“Idiot, pay attention. It’s a critical time,” his companion on the other side of the gate reprimanded.

“Don’t worry about it. The Quincy have always caused trouble beyond the fortieth district. What’s there to fear here in the thirty-second?” The yawning soul reaper waved his hand dismissively, clearly pleased with his ‘safe’ assignment. It looked as if he would weather this battle unscathed.

Tap.

But tonight would not be so tranquil.

“Who’s there?” His companion suddenly caught sight of a figure emerging from the darkness, and immediately drew his zanpakutō with a shout.

“…Tonight, the weather is fine,” the newcomer said suddenly.

“What?” The gatekeeper didn’t quite understand.

“It’s a perfect night for killing.”

Before either could react, the shadow’s weapon pierced their throats, and they collapsed helplessly to the ground.

“My apologies…”

The shadow stepped forward into the faint glow of a lamp, revealing his face.

Schubert!!

“Please, die.”

The Quincy are here!!

………………………………

“Enemy attack!”

“Prepare yourselves!”

“Stop dawdling! Assemble at once!”

The Quincy had launched a sudden assault, and the Soul Society was thrown into chaos.

Facing the abrupt invasion of the Quincy army, the hearts of all soul reapers leapt into their throats.

“We’ve roughly determined the enemy’s position by their spiritual pressure—move out immediately!” Jiyuemon Jingūji led his Sixth Division straight toward one of the sources of spiritual pressure.

“…Then, I’m off.” Unohana slid open the captain’s office door, ready to lead her Fourth Division to the front.

“Wait! Captain Unohana! I—” Chōjirō hesitated, then realized as acting vice-captain of the Fourth Division, he should be deploying as well.

“Please remain here, Vice-Captain Sasakibe.”

Chōjirō stopped in his tracks at Unohana’s words.

Not needed? Why?

Why can’t I go to battle?

“This is Head Captain Yamamoto’s order…”

“Head Captain?”

“‘As Head Captain, I must go to the front. At that time…’”

“‘Seireitei will be in your hands.’”

“That’s what the Head Captain said,” Unohana smiled back at Chōjirō. “I’ll entrust the Fourth Division to you, Vice-Captain Sasakibe.”

“……”

………………………………

A massive white figure swept his hand, demolishing the towering building beside him, then laughed loudly, scratching his head.

“So this is the Soul Society? Pathetically weak—I’m about to suffocate from boredom.”

Baron Barbossa, the silver cross’s Tenth Division leader, had long since lost count of how many souls he and his men had slain. The orders were to thoroughly devastate the Soul Society—why bother with the details?

Swish!

Just as Baron moved toward his next target, a dark figure suddenly blocked out the sunlight above him.

Smack!

A slender figure kicked at Baron’s head, but he caught the blow with his hand. Even so, the force made him grunt.

With a spring, the figure landed lightly.

“Impressive, Quincy,” came a man’s voice from behind the elegant figure.

“If you couldn’t block that, you’d have no right to be called a leader,” said Kazumoto Anba, Captain of the Twelfth Division, arriving with his squad.

“You do have a capable leader among your ranks,” he continued.

“Ha, so you’ve come, Captain,” Baron grinned widely, waving his hand at his men. “Stand back. I want to see what the Soul Society’s thirteen captains are made of.”

“You, too, stand aside,” Kazumoto Anba said to his lieutenant, then smiled confidently at Baron. “He doesn’t seem like an utterly detestable fellow.”

“Seems like we might get along,” Baron took a step toward Kazumoto, his spiritual pressure and fighting spirit rising.

“Don’t say something so foolish—this is a battlefield,” Kazumoto slowly drew his zanpakutō. “Aren’t you afraid to die?”

“Good, since we’re both afraid, then we can really go all out. Only the strong…” Baron drew his blade in a flash and charged at Kazumoto with a demonic roar.

“…can survive!!”

“Well said!” Kazumoto charged in with excitement.

The two clashed violently!

War had begun!!!

Clang!

The combatants separated, putting distance between them.

“Tell me…” Sayedlitz, wearing an eyepatch and gripping a longsword, asked through gritted teeth, “Where is Vice-Captain Sasakibe?”

“Oh? Asking about another division’s vice-captain right in front of a captain—don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Onizuka Kimura sneered at Sayedlitz. The man fought like a madman, aiming for his vitals every time. If not for his own strength, he’d have been seriously wounded by now.

“Answer me,” Sayedlitz demanded coldly. His only goal was Chōjirō Sasakibe—the man who had utterly humiliated and defeated him. Nothing else mattered.

“I told you, you’re too arrogant,” Onizuka Kimura laid his hand on his zanpakutō, smiling fearlessly. “Let me teach you how to speak to your elders.”

“You bastard…” Sayedlitz, never patient to begin with, was now pushed to the brink by Onizuka’s repeated provocations. His spiritual pressure exploded.

“Stop provoking me!”

Suddenly, a gigantic crossbow appeared in Sayedlitz’s hands, brimming with spiritual power that even startled Onizuka.

Whoosh!

The massive spiritual arrow shot toward Onizuka, but after a century as captain, such attacks, impressive as they looked, no longer fazed him.

Boom!

“All show, no substance,” Onizuka’s zanpakutō vanished, replaced by a weapon shaped like an inverted sickle.

“Isn’t that right, Maru?”

“You bastard… I’ll grind you to paste!” Behind Sayedlitz appeared hundreds of Quincy—all warriors from his First Division. He was now willing to rely on overwhelming numbers to win.

“Excellent! This is what I’ve been waiting for!” Onizuka drove his sickle into the ground, hands gripping its handle.

“Silent dead, grant me your power now, and lend me your strength for battle.”

Crack!

The earth split open!

Lava, surging like the fires of hell, erupted from below, instantly flooding the surroundings.

“Aaagh!”

“What… what is this…”

Caught off guard, the Quincy army was decimated in a flash, their ranks collapsing like scattered sand.

Only Sayedlitz, relying on his battle experience, managed to evade the lava that now covered the entire battlefield.

He stood atop a massive rock, watching helplessly as his men were swallowed by the molten flow.

Hundreds of his troops couldn’t withstand even a single move from this man?

And, thanks to the Quincy’s unique sensitivity to spiritual particles, Sayedlitz realized that not only his men, but also innocent residents of the district had perished beneath the lava.

“Well, well, the stage is set,” Onizuka Kimura hefted the sickle onto his shoulder, unbothered by the drops of lava burning its blade, and fixed his gaze on Sayedlitz.

“Let’s begin in earnest, boy.”