"First he killed Nnoitra… and now he's fighting Yammy?"
In the Fifth Division's underground chamber, the vast projection screen flickered, filling the dim space with the image of the massive raging beast.
Gin Ichimaru's signature foxlike grin curved wider as his pale eyes narrowed to slits.
"Ya~re ya~re… I wonder if Kenpachi's gonna pull off two Espada kills back-to-back, hmm?"
"That'd be quite the disaster for Hueco Mundo, don't you think?"
His tone was light, almost playful—yet every word dripped with mockery, his fake sympathy sharp enough to cut.
Aizen, standing beside him, didn't react.
His expression remained perfectly calm.
He knew Gin wasn't wrong—such a result was entirely possible.
But in truth, whether it was Yammy, Nnoitra, or any other Arrancar, Aizen didn't care in the slightest.
To him, they were nothing but pieces on a chessboard—
tools for his vision, sacrifices to open the way to the Soul King's Palace.
So the potential loss of an Espada meant little.
What truly interested him was something else entirely—
Kenpachi's Zanpakutō.
Nozarashi.
When would it awaken?
Would it be this battle, against Yammy Llargo?
That question alone was enough to hold Aizen's attention.
Yet, the footage that followed… left him faintly disappointed.
His expectations weren't met.
No awakening. No name.
Only carnage.
"Shhhhhh—!!"
Within the video, Kenpachi swung his sword again and again, grinning like a beast gone mad.
Each golden arc of spiritual pressure carved through the air, and with every strike—
Yammy screamed in agony.
Fingers—gone.
Legs—cut.
His body, skin, muscle—shredded and torn apart.
Every part of him was bleeding.
The once mountain-sized Arrancar was reduced to a broken hill of flesh, finally collapsing into the sands with a thunderous crash.
It was a scene of raw, feral violence.
And when the video broadcast reached the rest of the world—
the audience collectively froze.
It was like watching a butcher dismember a beast with a cleaver, strike after strike, blow after blow—
brutal, methodical, unstoppable.
"Too violent…"
Hitsugaya Tōshirō exhaled through his teeth, frowning as he watched.
"Compared to my Hyorinmaru, which relies on controlling ice and freezing the opponent bit by bit…"
"…Kenpachi's blade is nothing short of barbaric."
He crossed his arms, tone shifting from disbelief to admiration.
"Even without Shikai, that Zanpakutō has more destructive power than most others after release."
"The ranking above Hyorinmaru is well-deserved."
Inside the Tenth Division barracks, Matsumoto Rangiku nodded slowly, equally stunned.
Hitsugaya continued, his voice low and thoughtful:
"He's grown even stronger since fighting Nnoitra. Every swing hits harder."
"His strength scales with battle itself—the longer it drags on, the more unstoppable he becomes…"
He shook his head, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple.
"That's not a Shinigami… that's a monster."
And yet, even this wasn't his peak.
A "double Espada kill" was just the beginning.
Once Nozarashi truly awakened—
only then would the real Kenpachi Zaraki emerge.
But at that exact moment—
A tremor shook the screen.
A massive surge of energy rippled across the desert.
"Captain, look!" Rangiku gasped. "That Espada—he's growing again!"
On-screen, Yammy, bleeding and broken, roared in primal fury.
The red light around his body flared violently, his rage consuming everything.
His spiritual pressure exploded outward—
and his enormous frame began to swell.
Larger.
And larger still.
Until, before the stunned eyes of every viewer—
he transformed.
A second-stage Resurrección.
The Furious Beast's True Form.
The crimson hair along his arms waved like wildfire, his body towering so high it eclipsed the desert's horizon.
His voice alone thundered across the sands:
"SHINIGAMI!!!"
"I AM RAGE ITSELF!!!"
"The angrier I become—the stronger I grow!!!"
Even through the viewing screens, the shockwave hit.
Soundwaves turned to pressure waves.
All around the world, weaker viewers screamed as they were physically thrown back, blasted off their feet by the residual sound alone.
Entire auditoriums plunged into chaos.
"What the—he's huge!!"
"He's covering the sky of Hueco Mundo!"
In the Eleventh Division, Ikkaku gulped, his face pale.
That size… that power.
At that scale, even spiritual techniques would be useless.
An ant could not topple an elephant.
And that was exactly how he felt now.
"If I were there…" he muttered, "one stomp from that monster, and I'd be dust."
"Heh…"
"So this is the biggest brute in history, huh?"
Kenpachi's grin widened.
He glanced at the blade resting on his shoulder, his tone thick with confidence.
"Oi, Ikkaku," he said, his voice echoing through the barracks.
"Watch closely."
"Because next—"
"—I'll show you how my Zanpakutō, Nozarashi, tears this beast apart."
"One swing at a time."
His laughter rang out, wild and eager, like a storm building to its peak.
Those words—
marked the moment before the storm broke.
Because soon, the unnamed sword would finally roar—
and the name "Nozarashi" would be spoken at last.
(End of Chapter)
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