From this moment onward, the battle unfolding before their eyes truly became Yamamoto's alone.
It wasn't that the other captains or instructors wanted to stand by and watch.
Rather, they were now like Italy standing beside the mustachioed dictator on a World War II battlefield.
The effort Yamamoto would expend protecting them might well exceed what he used to attack.
Even Yachiru Unohana, should she dare step into this arena, would undoubtedly meet a swift end.
With Tsunayashiro Shōgo's current reiatsu, he had earned the right to make that happen.
Buzz!
Shōgo and Yamamoto locked eyes.
Their twin surges of refined, peak reiatsu radiated outward in all directions, forming faint currents of gravity in the air. The space within their field of vision warped under the intensity of their stare.
If an ordinary Shinigami drew near, the overlapping terror of their combined reiatsu would utterly shatter their spiritual structure.
This was power that wholly transcended the limits of a shinigami's existence.
Yet, facing such a situation sensing a total reiatsu that faintly surpassed his own, Yamamotoi's face slowly curved into a smile.
"Despair?"
"I hope you can truly make it happen."
He took a step forward, then another, closing the distance toward Shōgo.
The horrific scars crisscrossing his muscular frame gleamed like medals with each stride.
Yamamoto's life had never been the effortless tale of an invincible hero.
Quite the opposite, his journey had been riddled with countless trials.
Becoming a Shinigami.
Mastering Bankai.
Suffering crushing defeat at the hands of Yhwach. (In future)
Or rising to where he stood now…
Every scar, every mark on his body told a story of pain, struggle, and memories too raw to need words.
Some came from mighty foes, some from friends, some from disciples.
Yet all of them bore clear witness to his stance toward those who dared raise a blade against him.
You want to prove yourself?
Then come, strike here.
Strength and weakness would be decided by the sword alone.
Beneath those heavy, thick brows, his eyes blazed with untamed fire, unyielding no matter who they faced.
This was Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto.
Perhaps sensing the roaring battlelust in his chest, Shōgo's arrogant gaze faltered for an instant, only to flare back with a fury as if he'd been insulted:
"Then let me show you!"
With his enraged shout, Shōgo brandished his blade, echoing Yamamoto's own release command.
"All things in Universe, reduced to ash!"
"Ryūjin Jakka!"
A tachi wreathed in flames materialized in Shōgo's grasp.
More than that, with his reiatsu edging slightly above Yamamoto's, faint sparks ignited across his entire body.
Noticing this, Yamamoto's face betrayed an involuntary smirk of disdain.
As if to say, "Is that all?"
Shōgo's eyes narrowed, his voice erupting in a furious bellow.
"Jōkaku Enjō!!!"
With that wrathful roar, colossal pillars of flame burst from the ground like fortress walls, erupting with explosive booms. The fiery ramparts enveloped the grassland as if to preemptively seal off every avenue of Yamamoto's retreat.
He unleashed his near-boundless reiatsu with reckless abandon.
All to overpower this man!
Why?
Why could he remain so composed in the face of a superior foe?
Yamamoto regarded him with that same contemptuous look, his voice icy.
"Ryūjin Jakka isn't used like that."
"Fool."
The next moment, his form vanished from Shōgo's sight.
Shōgo froze for a split second before slashing forward.
Compared to his last death, his reactions, senses, and physical prowess had all risen a notch.
In an instant, their blades clashed.
Boom!
A muffled thud, like a drumbeat, reverberated through the air.
Even standing far off, Makoto could feel the visceral discomfort from that heavy sound.
Several Shinigami near him collapsed, faces ashen, some slumping weakly to the ground, blood spilling uncontrollably from their mouths.
He immediately barked an order.
"Those who can still move, grab your comrades and retreat farther back!"
"This isn't a place we can interfere in anymore!"
Makoto's command came just in time.
Many still retained basic mobility.
Yet when they glanced toward the battlefield's center, their eyes couldn't help but betray a primal fear.
Was this power truly something a Shinigami could attain?
Even his zanpakuto was shouting loudly.
[Yooo what the fuck man! There's a powerhouse! Makoto, run for your life!]
[Get to that glasses guy Kinroku, escape with him!]
[This world's on the brink, ya know!]
What did that mean?!
Makoto blinked, instinctively wanting to retort.
But before he could, an even heavier thud than before thundered through the sky.
Yamamoto and Shōgo clashed with relentless abandon.
Neither Yamamoto himself nor Shōgo had ever encountered such a formidable opponent in their lifetimes.
Having reached the absolute zenith of the shinigami, it had been untold ages since Yamamoto last fought with such unrestrained fervor, as he had in his youth against mighty foes.
Zanpakuto met Zanpakuto in a ceaseless dance of friction and collision, the screeching metal emitting a series of ear-splitting howls that threatened to shred eardrums, yet even sound couldn't keep pace with their slashing speed.
But this deadlock didn't last long.
As Yamamoto had said...
Even with the same Ryūjin Jakka, Shōgo's mastery paled in comparison.
"Jōkaku Enjō!"
The condensed flames on Yamamoto's blade erupted at the moment of impact, engulfing half of Shōgo's body in an instant. The roaring fire swallowed the fiery burst from Shōgo's own blade, charring half his form to blackened ash.
"Arghhhh!!!"
The searing agony of the flames overwhelmed Shōgo's senses, yet amidst the pain, he roared and charged straight at Yamamoto, determined to land even a single strike.
But a cornered beast's struggle only hastened its demise.
No sooner had Shōgo raised his blade than a flash of steel streaked across his neck.
On the battlefield where Makoto had just stood, another Wanderer corpse ignited, its head severed in tandem.
In less than half a second, a new head sprouted from the corpse before Yamamoto, its charred half restoring itself to normal.
His body and face were visibly younger than before.
Shōgo bellowed defiantly.
"Again!"
Yamamoto's gaze remained steady, the flames on his blade blazing fiercer still like gasoline poured on a fire as he slashed at his foe without hesitation.
Zanjutsu honed to the pinnacle.
Hakuda tempered through a thousand trials.
Shunpo refined to perfection.
Even the ability to unleash the full might of a ninetieth-level Kidō without incantation.
Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Kido, Hohō... all pushed to their utmost limits.
And atop that, the strongest, most ancient flame-type Zanpakutō!
Under this near-hexagonal arsenal of mastery, Shōgo died again and again.
Burned to death, hacked to pieces, beheaded, bisected…
"Again!"
"Again!"
"Again!"
Yet no matter how many times he was shattered or reduced to dust, he rose once more from the corpses, each time younger, his reiatsu swelling anew.
Until, at last...
His visage settled into the vibrant vigor of a twenty-something.
Wrinkled skin filled out into taut, lively flesh.
Pale gray hair turned jet black.
Dull, murky eyes shone bright and clear.
His hunched frame stretched tall and straight!
And most crucially...
The total reiatsu erupting from him now fully surpassed Yamamoto's.
Clang!
A heavy blade crashed down onto another Ryūjin Jakka.
Shōgo gripped his sword with both hands, his upper body pressing forward as if to bear down on the blade's spine. Mere inches separated them, close enough for Shōgo to glimpse his younger self reflected in Yamamoto's stern eyes.
This time, his strength finally matched Yamamoto's.
Boom!!!
The two Zanpakuto were locked in a fierce struggle.
The mere shockwave of their contest rippled outward, upheaving the fire-ravaged wasteland into a massive, rolling mound of earth dozens of meters wide. Giant slabs of rock tilted upward along the force's path, fragile as toy blocks.
Watching from afar, Makoto's mind unwittingly recalled the final battle from the anime... Mugetsu Ichigo versus Transcendent Aizen.
This near-divine power was beyond mortal reach.
Yet Shōgo seemed to draw an indescribable ecstasy from this endless escalation. His bloodshot eyes, crazed with the thrill of power, rained down a torrent of relentless strikes as he roared in unrestrained excitement.
"Yamamoto!"
"This is my true strength!"
"Ennetsu Jigoku!"
As his final words fell, a fiercer torrent of flame burst from Tsunayashiro Shōgo's blade, a crimson blaze like a red tsunami swallowing the earth, consuming and incinerating everything before him.
Reiatsu rooted in the Soul King's bone poured limitlessly into the firelight.
Yamamoto's form vanished within it.
Just as Shōgo had claimed...
He had countless chances to die.
But Yamamoto could only die once.
Gazing at the ceaselessly burning flames, Shōgo finally allowed himself a quiet breath of relief.
At last, he'd taken down this-
Before the thought could fully form, a faint sigh emerged from the fire.
"As expected."
"Even the Soul King's bone has its limits, doesn't it?"
Shōgo's expression faltered, and he instinctively slashed toward the sound's source.
But this time, what met his blade was a Zanpakuto with charred black, its surface faintly flowing with molten traces like lava.
The instant their blades clashed...
Shōgo felt it clearly, an overwhelming force, raw and ferocious, surged through the steel into his body, crashing into him with a thunderous impact.
The next moment...
A blistering explosion rang in everyone's ears.
Shōgo's entire form disintegrated in the blast, reduced to scattered blackened dust that blanketed every corner within dozens of meters.
Yamamoto emerged shirtless from the sea of flames.
What he now held was no longer Ryūjin Jakka.
His voice remained calm, "From two deaths ago until now, even someone as dense as you should've noticed, right?"
"Your reiatsu stopped growing."
Transcending Shinigami was indeed a fact.
But only by a sliver.
This reality left Yamamoto, still yearning for loftier heights, profoundly disappointed.
"And one more thing."
"I've found the way to kill you."
He spoke evenly, heedless of anyone's feelings friend or foe.
"Since you're bound to this Valley of Screams…"
Yamamoto's lips curled into a cruel smile, "Then… if I burn this entire world to ash, I can kill you along with it, can't I?"
The instant his words landed...
Be it Shōgo, freshly risen from the ashes, or the shinigami watching from afar, everybody tensed.
"No! You wouldn't dare!"
Shōgo roared in disbelief, "Yamamoto, there are still hundreds of your disciples and comrades here!"
"You'd never-"
But before he could finish...
Yamamoto answered with action.
"Bankai..."
"Zanka no Tachi."
"Nishi - Zanjitsu Gokuii!"
The moment his words fell, flames exceeding fifteen million degrees Celsius engulfed Yamamoto, cloaking him in a fiery garb that left only his head exposed, a figure of flame incarnate.
In an instant...
The entire Valley of Screams became a hellscape of rapidly rising heat.
Countless ordinary shinigami on the scene were ignited by the terrifying temperature bursting from their Captain-Commander, each one turning into a blazing torch.
Even Makoto could feel death's footsteps closing in.
He, too, couldn't withstand such heat at close range.
Though Yamamoto's body bore this inferno of a cloak, the words he spoke next sent a chill through every survivor's heart.
"Then… let me use your head to honor their sacrifice."
***
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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