novelraw Chapter 705 705 Once Again
Chapter 705 705 Once Again
The wind stopped.
The heat that could have burned Soul Society to ash seemed to fade along with the fall of that old man.
The air reeked of something nauseating, the stench of flesh and spiritual pressure carbonized under extreme heat.
Kyoraku Shunsui knelt on the ground. The heavy body in his arms, growing colder by the second, felt like a collapsed mountain crushing even his soul.
Thick blood slid down the blade of Katen Kyokotsu.
Drip!
Drip!
Each drop fell onto the cracked, scorched earth with a sound like a funeral bell.
In that deathly silence, a calm voice, almost appreciative, pierced through the thin membrane of despair.
"Thank you for delivering such a magnificent performance, Captain Kyoraku."
This was the first time since the curtain had risen that Rosse had addressed the real Kyoraku directly.
There was no mockery, no anger.
His tone was flat, like a nobleman politely greeting a clown after an opera.
To Rosse, it might have been simple praise for something pleasing.
To Kyoraku Shunsui, it was an invitation from hell.
"Ro... Rosse!"
Kyoraku slowly raised his head.
The lazy eyes usually hidden beneath his hat brim were now bloodshot, the whites swallowed by bursting veins that painted his vision red.
He stared at Rosse with eyes about to split.
At the edge of his sight, the absurd play continued.
The fake Ukitake was still heroically holding off multiple captains alone, buying time for the injured fake Kyoraku.
But in the true sight visible only to a few, Rosse stood calmly at a distance, like a god overlooking ants.
Clap! Clap! Clap!
Rosse lightly applauded. The crisp sound echoed across the silent battlefield, each clap like a slap across Kyoraku's shattered pride.
"I'm very satisfied with this scene. Since our best actor has finished his role…"
Rosse's faint smile receded slightly as he turned away, white haori cutting a cold arc in the wind.
"It's time for the final curtain."
Watching that back, the last string of reason in Kyoraku's mind snapped.
"YOU BASTARD!"
The roar burst from deep in his throat like a dying beast.
Kyoraku carefully laid Yamamoto's body down.
Then he stood.
There were no final rites left.
No bigger picture.
At this moment he was no longer the calculating Captain Kyoraku.
He was a vengeful demon swallowed by regret and hatred.
He would kill Rosse.
With teeth, with nails, even if he had to sell his soul to a true devil, he would drag that manipulative scum into hell.
If he did not kill Rosse, then even living would be a slow execution in a world haunted by patricide.
But grief and resolve are cheap.
They do not erase the gap in power.
BOOM!
The instant Kyoraku shattered the ground and launched forward like a cannon shell, two overwhelming spiritual pressures burst from the flanks, like mountains slamming into his path.
"Kyoraku! Die!"
"You lying bastard!"
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Getsuga Tensho and Shunko lightning wove into a net, halting his charge.
Sparks flew. Kyoraku staggered back and saw two familiar, furious faces through crossing blades.
Kurosaki Ichigo.
Shihoin Yoruichi.
The two who had been waiting in the shadows finally stepped into Rosse's script.
How ironic.
He was the one trying to kill the devil.
Yet to them, covered in blood and murderous intent, he was the traitor who had just stabbed the Captain-Commander.
"Move!"
Kyoraku growled.
He had no desire to fight them, not even to explain.
Words meant nothing now.
His gaze locked past them onto the retreating white figure.
If Rosse were not standing there, he might have let these fools stab him to escape this nightmare.
But he could not.
The old man's body was still warm.
The blood on his hands not yet dry.
His cleverness had become Rosse's sharpest blade, burying his own teacher.
This sin denied him even death.
He had to die knowing the truth.
He had to take Rosse with him.
"Bastard! After turning Soul Society upside down and killing so many, where do you think you're going?"
Yoruichi's golden eyes burned.
In her view, fake Ukitake was being surrounded mercilessly, and Kyoraku had stabbed a drained Captain-Commander.
Old grudges and new hatred surged together.
To her, the fall of the Shihoin clan traced back to him.
Now was the reckoning.
"Heh! A bunch of fools spun around in circles."
Kyoraku laughed bitterly.
He twisted his wrist, Katen Kyokotsu carving a strange arc, skillfully deflecting both Ichigo's Zangetsu and Yoruichi's kick.
He knew nothing he said would matter.
The seamless swap between fake and real had fooled even him for a heartbeat.
If Rosse wished, he could make Yoruichi and Ichigo see Kyoraku as an ally the next second.
You can't win.
That was reason speaking.
This was not a fair game.
It was an omniscient god watching blind ants slaughter each other in a maze.
"Still talking tough at death's door? Don't get cocky, Kyoraku! With your spiritual pressure now, how long can you hold out? When you run dry, you'll pay for everything!", Yoruichi snorted.
Yet for some reason, his word "fools" struck her heart like a hammer, stirring unease.
The battlefield had turned into poisonous chaos.
"..."
At the edge, Ukitake Jushiro sighed.
His sight was the cruelest.
He had watched his friend struggle in despair.
He had watched Kyoraku emerge from the shadows, that strike meant for salvation, piercing their teacher instead.
For a moment, he wished it had been his own body.
He did not blame him.
If it were him, he might have given up the moment Yamamoto fell.
Kyoraku had found that sliver of chance in hell.
Only their opponent was beyond this dimension.
That resolve had been used against him.
"You've all done enough."
Resolve appeared on Ukitake's pale face. He stepped forward.
'If Kyoraku has gone mad, if things have fallen this far, then let this broken body shield his friend one last time—'
Puchi!
"Pfft!"
The movement never completed.
A soul-rending pain exploded from his chest.
He looked down in disbelief.
A slender white female hand pierced through his back and out his chest, blood and fragments trailing.
It did not tremble.
"Don't make unnecessary moves," A bored female voice sounded by his ear.
"Did you really think hiding your presence was enough, Captain Ukitake?"
Kurosaki Masaki stood behind him, expression blank.
"That thing inside you is the Soul King's right arm. At that level, even the slightest intention to draw on its power shines like the sun in the dark."
Squish!
With a sickening sound, she withdrew her hand.
But her fingers did not release.
They gripped the black shadow deep in Ukitake's soul.
Not just flesh was being torn away, his soul was being ripped out.
The Soul King's right arm, the entity that had sustained his life, was pulled out like a weed.
"AHHHH!"
The agony surpassed any torture.
His body convulsed, blood choking his scream.
This was absolute disparity.
A divine fragment was nothing but tribute before one of equal rank.
With the right arm gone, his century-worn body lost balance.
Spirit particles surged violently, a sign of collapse.
Masaki snapped her fingers.
The collapse halted.
Ukitake was Rosse's chosen toy.
She would not break him.
She simply would not leave something so important inside him.
"JUSHIRO!"
Through the crowd, Kyoraku saw his friend fall and screamed.
His heart felt crushed.
But he did not stop.
This time he did not rush to his friend.
He gritted his teeth until his gums bled.
Deflecting Yoruichi, he broke free, ignoring Zangetsu's edge, charging toward Rosse.
'Useless! I can not save him!'
In a world of lies, who could guarantee that fallen Ukitake was real?
'What if it is another trap?'
'Even if real—'
'Can I save him?"
'What will it change?'
'If everything is fake—'
Then the only meaningful act was killing the one pulling the strings.
Kill Rosse. End the source.
"Kyoraku! Have you lost your mind?"
Yoruichi shouted, almost fearful.
He did not hear.
His world was red.
'Closer.'
'Rosse is right there.'
No tricks. He poured all his spiritual pressure, all his hatred, all his life into one strike.
"DIE!"
Slash!
The blade entered flesh.
Warm blood splashed across his face.
He hit.bThe resistance was real.
Yet, there was no satisfaction.
Kyoraku's face drained pale.
"It… isn't... Rosse...", He trembled.
The figure before him rippled.
The man he stabbed... was no longer Rosse.
The face twisted becoming a young woman.
Glasses askew. Shock and terror frozen in her eyes.
Ise Nanao. His vice-captain. His niece. The girl who handled his paperwork and scolded his laziness.
Katen Kyokotsu pierced her fragile body.
Blood spread across her prison uniform.
[🎉 Shoutout to baby_pal and LeadStar p@treon. Thank you very much.🤗]
═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═❀═
[email protected]/AmbitiousTranslator
🥳Joining P@treon keeps me motivated and eager to work diligently, so please consider joining.🥰 You can access upto 20 advance chapter through P@treon.