Chapter 224: No Joy on Your Blade
"Brat, let me show you!"
"What true power really means!"
Under everyone's gaze, the mountain of flesh grinned widely and drew the sword in his hand.
"Crush him, Onigashima!"
The moment he shouted the release command, a storm of Reiatsu erupted from the mountain of flesh.
The fierce Reiatsu forced many Eleventh Division members to step back repeatedly.
Amid the storm, the Zanpakutō in the mountain of flesh's hand glowed and rapidly grew larger and thicker.
In the blink of an eye, the one-meter-long Zanpakutō transformed into a massive, over-two-meter-long spiked club.
Its design somewhat resembled that of Love Aikawa, captain of the Seventh Division.
However, Love Aikawa's spiked club had a long handle, and the entire weapon gave off a very elastic feel.
This "Onigashima," on the other hand, felt extremely rigid.
On the grip side, there was an iron ring wrapped with red cloth.
The mountain of flesh swung it a couple of times, the terrifying weight of the iron rod whipping up a fierce wind around him.
Laymen watch the spectacle, experts watch the technique.
Seeing those two swings, Satoru let out an intrigued "Oh ho!"
Judging by the fierce wind stirred up by the spiked club just now, it should be a solid rod.
Its weight had to be at least several hundred pounds.
Yet, in the hands of the mountain of flesh, such immense weight seemed as light as paper, swung without any effort.
No matter how naturally strong one might be, achieving this would be very difficult.
As expected, this was likely the ability of his opponent's Zanpakutō.
"Interesting."
Satoru shook his neck and walked toward the mountain of flesh.
As he walked, he pulled open the upper part of his Shinigami Uniform.
"Come on, let me see if you have what it takes to bear the weight of the Eleventh Division!"
Seeing that Satoru hadn't even drawn his sword and seemed ready to engage in hand-to-hand combat directly, the mountain of flesh grinned, revealing a smile.
"Brat, before you die, remember this great one's name!"
"I am Kiganjō! The man who will kill you!"
As he spoke, he took large strides, charging toward Satoru, raising the spiked club high above his head.
When only a few meters separated them, he roared, and the spiked club descended with a sharp whistle, smashing down fiercely—
BOOM!!!!
A massive explosion erupted from the spot where Satoru had been standing.
"Got him!"
Kiganjō's eyes lit up.
From a distant tree branch, Shinji sneered.
In a narrow alley, Retsu remained expressionless.
The Eleventh Division members watched the dust raised by Kiganjō's strike with some tension.
Within the dust, Satoru's figure gradually became visible.
He had raised one arm, palm open, supporting the spiked club that Kiganjō had smashed down.
Although the ground beneath his feet had cracked layer by layer, he himself remained completely unaffected.
Not even a speck of dust had settled on him.
Seeing Satoru's condition, a look of astonishment appeared in Kiganjō's eyes for the first time.
His Zanpakutō's ability was to nullify its own weight for him.
This spiked club, weighing over six hundred pounds, felt like less than ten pounds in his hands.
With his burly physique, swinging a ten-pound club was almost no different from playing with a wooden stick.
However, to the external environment, the weight of the spiked club posed no issue at all—it was a genuine six hundred jin.
Relying on this ability, he had even effortlessly defeated a Menos Grande known as an "Adjuchas."
He had thought that this "frail" little Shinigami before him could be crushed with a single swing of his club, so how was it that he remained completely unscathed?
After a moment of astonishment, Onigiyan roared, violently retracting his spiked club.
Then, like a craftsman hammering a nail, he began frantically striking at Satoru.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!
The spiked club fell like a torrential downpour, swinging up and down at an indescribable speed.
If it weren't for the fact that it was materialized from a Zanpakutō, an iron rod of such immense weight would likely have shattered or snapped under its own strain.
After delivering over a hundred strikes in one breath, Onigiyan grinned widely.
This time, could you still survive?
He swung the spiked club with force, clearing away the billowing smoke in front of him.
As the smoke dissipated, Onigiyan's eyes widened in disbelief.
Satoru's figure remained standing there.
This time, even the ground beneath his feet showed little change.
Flowing over his body was a layer of Reiatsu that resembled a liquid.
Mixed within this Reiatsu was the power of the soul.
All one hundred-plus strikes had been mitigated and absorbed by this layer of Reiatsu.
The energy generated in the process was continuously used to raise the temperature of this Reiatsu layer.
Facing the burly giant before him, Satoru let out a sigh.
His eyes were filled with disappointment.
"Completely joyless."
"Wha…"
"As a warrior, the captain of the Eleventh Division, your strength can be lacking."
"But at the very least, you should enjoy the process of battle."
"From your blade, I sense not an ounce of joy in fighting."
"Your iron club is like an executioner's axe, only seeking to take lives."
"No conviction, no emotion, and certainly no aesthetics…"
"How could someone like you become Kenpachi?"
Under Onigiyan's stunned gaze, Satoru raised his hand.
With his movement, the layer of Reiatsu covering him began to boil.
In that instant, Onigiyan felt an intense sense of crisis surge within him.
From the start of the battle until now, this frail little Shinigami had never once given him even a hint of danger.
He had once believed this was a sign of the other's weakness.
But now, Onigiyan clearly sensed that the other possessed the ability to take his life!
Just as he fell into panic and prepared to retaliate desperately, Satoru suddenly stopped.
He scratched his head: "Hmm… this doesn't seem quite right."
"Although I don't like you, if I were to kill you without any reason, wouldn't that make me a vil—wouldn't that make me the villain?"
Satoru glanced around.
His gaze fell on the vendor who had long since hidden in the distance, even abandoning his stall, and his eyes lit up.
"Hey! Boss! You said earlier that this guy is a 'plague god.' What did you mean by that?"
Hearing this, the vendor was momentarily stunned.
Then, he replied instinctively, "This guy often robs food in the nearby districts, eating without ever paying… We small vendors all call him the plague god…"
"Ohh, eating without paying? That's a good enough reason."
Satoru clapped his hands.
Then, he turned his head and looked in a certain direction.
"Friend in the tree! What do you think?"
From the branch of a distant tree, Shinji Hirako grinned wryly.
Although he wasn't deliberately hiding his presence in this location, detecting his existence still required considerable skill.
This kid truly lived up to Captain-Commander's persistent desire to recruit him for hard labor—his abilities were indeed absurd.
In a flash, he appeared beside Satoru.
"Such trash isn't worth discussing. Bringing it back would only be nauseating. Just dispose of it casually."
Hearing this, Satoru nodded.
Then, he called out loudly toward the distant alley:
"Sister in the alley! What's your... ahem... what's your opinion?"