"Don't you want to avenge your subordinates?"
"Or is the so-called pride of the Soul Reapers only to this extent?"
"Hey, hey, hey, if you don't show some real skill, you might die at the hands of a nobody like me."
As if to emphasize.
Driscoll sneered as he pressed the spear in his hand down inch by inch.
"I've encountered a few capable fellows before who I couldn't kill right away, which made them suffer quite a bit more."
"After all, I'm not a merciful person. Rather than watching people die quickly and cleanly, I prefer the feeling of them gradually despairing before finally perishing completely."
"Just. Like. This."
The spirit particle spear pressed downward, closely touching Chōjirō's chest.
Although there was no cutting edge, merely being placed in these areas had already caused wisps of steam-like substance to emerge.
Spirit particles in high-speed motion could emit extraordinary heat. Even Soul Reapers couldn't ignore this power... Chōjirō was now enduring unusual pain.
The former First Division Lieutenant's veins bulged slightly on his face.
The way he gritted his teeth now gave the impression that he was using all his strength.
"Ugh..."
"How long will you struggle? Hey, you're too stubborn, aren't you?"
Something seemed off.
After all, being pushed to this extent, why hadn't he released his power yet?
Driscoll had a subtle premonition, as if something invisible and intangible had been overlooked by him.
But this feeling had just arisen when he pressed it back down entirely.
At this point, overthinking was meaningless.
Moreover, the Invisible Empire had already launched a full-scale invasion, and Soul Society was now in chaos, at its most vulnerable moment.
If there were any hidden moves, they should have been used by now, how could they possibly wait until this moment?
"Ora! If you won't use your full power, you might as well die!"
Driscoll roared as he pressed down the spear in his hand.
Chōjirō cried out in pain, his legs involuntarily curling up, his entire body pinned to the ground.
This was the limit, with no way to retreat.
Struggling to pull out his left hand, Chōjirō swung it heavily, striking horizontally on Driscoll's shoulder.
"Hadō 63, Raikōhō!"
Bright yellow lightning appeared, a power completely different from the Quincy system was brewing and forming within.
Even without "personally" experiencing the energy within, this electrifying sensation that made one's scalp tingle caused Driscoll to frown slightly.
Although both manipulated spirit particles, the two systems were completely different... he couldn't find any way to counter this technique.
—Just playing small tricks.
Withdrawing, retreating.
The bright yellow orb of light expanded and burst until it dissipated into nothingness. Chōjirō's staggering figure emerged from it, his face full of humiliation.
Subordinates brutally killed, and he himself not a match for this guy.
From any angle, this was an extremely shameful and unbearable fact.
I can't stand it anymore!
Chōjirō gritted his teeth and raised the Zanpakutō in his hand high over his head.
Lightning rolled within it, dark clouds appeared in the sky above, becoming something more vivid at this moment.
Oh, here it comes~
Although Driscoll still maintained an expressionless appearance, he had already started laughing wildly in his heart.
This is exactly what I've been waiting for.
Forced to release his power, then having everything stolen by my ability, showing a regretful and angry expression in a desperate situation with no way out.
Finally being killed by me in the most pleasurable and cheerful way.
Becoming nutrients to feed his Schrift's energy!
Just thinking about these things now, Driscoll's expression couldn't help but become somewhat joyful...
Oh~ this won't do.
A patient hunter wouldn't expose himself in advance.
The prey was still cautiously probing, not yet completely walking into his trap. In this situation, he should be even more patient.
"Oh, is this your real skill?"
Adding fuel to the fire was also an art.
Driscoll was quite experienced in this regard.
He didn't even think about interrupting the opponent, but instead smiled and opened his arms, making a gesture as if embracing the sky.
"Looks pretty good! Is this your true ability? Really~ if you had shown it earlier, wouldn't that have been better?"
After all.
"If you could have done this earlier, your subordinates wouldn't have died so miserably, right?"
Just like this.
Driscoll raised his right foot and stomped heavily.
The corpse, already devoid of warmth, was completely crushed, pressed until it became a lump of indistinguishable flesh, with no distinguishable shape.
"Aaaaaahhhhh!!!"
Chōjirō's sanity was nearly broken.
I'm sorry, Captain-Commander Yamamoto, I am about to break my promise to you.
Facing such a villain, hiding my strength any longer would be completely meaningless.
Let lightning strike! Let the heavenly thunder of Soul Society, absent for a thousand years, strike again, only to claim the blood of former enemies!
"Bankai: Kōkō Gonryō Rikyū!!!"
Boom!!!
The world hummed all around.
Chōjirō held the Zanpakutō in his hand high above his head, pointing toward the sky.
The accumulated energy that had gathered at some point crawled and rolled in the sky, with vague lightning baring its teeth within, until finally all of it was drawn out.
A bright yellow canopy, like something held by nobility, descended from the sky, covering Chōjirō's entire person.
Bathed in the light of lightning, he was now the most eye-catching existence in Soul Society.
Chōjirō's pupils were also covered with electric light, his eyes filled with bright and dazzling brilliance, looking down at the intruder like a deity from above.
Kōkō Gonryō Rikyū.
As majestic as its name, a beautiful scene, hard to imagine that this was the Bankai of an "unknown" person.
After witnessing it firsthand, Driscoll's expression also became somewhat peculiar.
"Hmm..."
A slight surprise.
Followed immediately by wild joy.
Having already regarded it as something in the bag, how could one not be surprised by an unexpected gain?
Driscoll couldn't help but cover his face with one hand, preventing his overflowing smile from becoming too obvious.
That's really great!
Thank you, Soul Reaper.
"Such a beautiful thing, it's really wasted on you."
"A power like this should be more suitable for the great Driscoll!"
"Come, your Bankai, I'll take it!!!"
Sneering as he waved his right hand.
The Stern Medallion that appeared in his palm began to operate like a precise instrument, emitting fine mechanical meshing sounds.
The air trembled.
A mysterious attractive force quickly formed in the air, and at this moment, it drew everything inward.
"!!!"
Chōjirō, already in a commanding position, couldn't help but show a surprised expression.
The Bankai he controlled, the thunderous roars and lightning flashing across the sky, this power that had been by his side without the slightest separation...
Was now facing disintegration?!
The Bankai was dissolving itself.
Driscoll's ferocious smile became increasingly smug, like a predator certain that its prey was trapped, he had already seen the other's fate.
And he made his victory declaration.
"Arrogance is the reason for your failure... pay the price, Soul Reaper!"
"No, it's you who should be arrogant."
...?
Where did that sound come from?
Upon hearing this voice, Driscoll's thoughts had a moment of peculiar pause.
When people deal with unexpected or surprising events, they often experience a similar momentary daze. And at this moment, Driscoll was also like this.
But after all, he was a combat specialist, and he quickly reacted.
The sound came from behind... who was it? Who managed to get behind him without making a sound?!
"Who's there!"
Shouting as he turned his body halfway, making a punching motion.
From a behavioral standpoint, he was already careful enough, with no obvious problems... unfortunately.
As an opponent, he encountered someone even more cruel and cold-blooded.
Poof!
With a muffled sound.
Driscoll's body couldn't help but tremble at this moment, his mouth slightly open, his entire person frozen in place.
Something was gradually flowing away from his body, disappearing.
Driscoll couldn't accept this result. Like a craftsman looking for compensation, he stared with wide eyes, lowering his gaze for confirmation.
Then.
He saw a hand that had pierced through his chest, protruding a small portion.
That lean and bony tactile feedback was instantly transmitted through the retinal nerves. Following this, streams of fresh blood flowed slowly from the opening.
The answer was found.
His body had been penetrated, and his life was fading away.
Was this a sneak attack, or an ambush? Whatever the cause, it couldn't be traced anymore, because Driscoll could feel.
His body was becoming cold and stiff at a visibly rapid speed!
This sensation was enough to make his scalp tingle, his entire being nearly driven to madness. Undoubtedly, this outcome was completely unacceptable to him.
You've got to be kidding!!!
"Get away from me!"
Forcibly driving the power within his body.
The spirit particles shaking around his body had now become something akin to a field of energy waves.
With Driscoll as the center, an area close to a vacuum was created out of thin air, causing the silent figure that had approached from behind to quietly retreat.
The person was driven away.
But... at what cost?
"Guh... ah!"
A scream of agony rolled from his mouth, Driscoll couldn't help but drop to one knee.
The withdrawn right hand had created a visible hole in his chest. The internal pressure instantly lost balance, blood and organs were forced to shift, like travelers about to relocate, rushing toward the "exit" in a scramble.
Undoubtedly, this was definitely a situation that could be called a "fatal wound."
Driscoll's situation was rapidly deteriorating, his initial assurance of victory had now turned into panic.
When facing the unknown, people inevitably experience similar situations.
But this was by no means a reason to give up resistance.
The power belonging to the Quincy manifested at this moment.
Driscoll let out a roar, heavily slapping his right hand against his own chest.
Bang!
Blut Vene.
A bright blue light emerged from within, beginning to circulate continuously.
Through the spirit particles embedded within the body, blood vessels, and nerves, reconstructing them—as if turning the human body into a more precise and profound instrument, through this method, Driscoll achieved internal balance.
The situation stabilized.
"Surprising."
"Even though I've inflicted a fatal wound on you, you can still maintain this level of mobility."
"If it's not life force strong to the point of being difficult to understand, then it's the utilization of spirit particles that has reached a level I cannot comprehend."
I see.
"Such a formidable enemy, indeed worthy of attention."
That annoying voice sounded again.
But this time it had moved to a position not far in front of him.
Raising his head in distress, looking toward that direction... Driscoll's vision was blurred by sweat, only able to glimpse a hazy figure.
It was a figure pale to the point of being inconceivable.
Wearing a white robe different from the style of Soul Reapers or Quincies, with familiar long blades at the waist.
And what was most concerning was the mask-like object covering his head...
Two deep green, tear-like marks were imprinted on it, drawing a bold stroke in the other's temperament and appearance.
This guy... definitely not human.
Nor a Soul Reaper.
So what was his background?
"You, you are..."
"Ulquiorra Cifer."
With hands hanging down, this hollow looked coldly and proudly at Driscoll.
He seemed to have absolutely no interest in lying, and would tell the truth even to an enemy's inquiry.
"Espada Four of Hueco Mundo, Ulquiorra."
Self-introduction.
But it made Driscoll widen his eyes, showing a completely unacceptable expression.
"This, this is impossible!"
His voice had become somewhat distorted.
To the extent that it now twisted into an unusually sharp feeling.
"Hueco Mundo? Wasn't that supposed to have been conquered by Soul Society? You lot, created because of Sōsuke Aizen's betrayal, should also have been... poof!"
He couldn't finish.
Not because the other interrupted him.
But because Driscoll's throat was already filled with turbid blood.
What's going on...
He lowered his head in confusion, only to see that there was no trace of spirit particle flow at the wound in his chest.
Blood gushed out from it, and at the same time, the other's calm tone made his body feel extremely cold.
"I have no interest in explaining to the dead."
"And the power of Hollows is like poison to you, isn't it?"
"So let it end like this, drowning in your own arrogance."
Driscoll's eyelids gradually became heavy, he seemed to have realized something.
But regrettably... he couldn't make any reaction at all.
Your Majesty, Your Majesty...
Driscoll's body leaned back, staring blankly at the sky before him.
We've been deceived!
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Powerstones?
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