Luke stood barefoot on the battered tatami, blood streaming down his body until he looked like a man carved from crimson.
Unohana's swordsmanship mastery was clearly far above his own. After barely more than ten minutes of savage combat, he had already lost over half his Life Source.
Blade wounds covered his body. Several ran deep enough to graze muscle.
He stepped forward, slowly approaching Unohana, who stood against the wall at the center of the room. It felt like climbing a sheer, snowbound peak. The summit towering above him was her overwhelming swordsmanship, while the drifting snow that struck his body was her bone-chilling killing intent.
Was he going to die?
What a damn shame. This was the first time he had ever fought so freely, so completely—and it was already about to end?
No. He had not had enough.
He would keep climbing.
His path of martial arts had only just begun.
Luke looked down at the Asauchi in his hand. Sosuke had once said that Luke himself was resisting that power. Even now, Luke could not be certain whether that was true.
But after entering that inferno again and again, after trying to communicate with that demon-god-like figure, he had begun to understand.
Why did he need to ask for its true name?
Shouldn't the name of his Zanpakuto be his to decide?
Right, [Prison Demon]?
...
The atmosphere changed.
Unohana had been preparing to step forward and finish the final exchange, but she stopped.
Luke's presence had changed.
Sunset shone through the paper windows slashed open by blades, illuminating Luke's back. Blood slid down his knotted muscles, like a demon-faced painting weeping blood.
It dripped at his feet, spreading across the tatami in a purple-black dream.
From Unohana's perspective, the man stood before the enormous painting with the sunset at his back. Just above his shoulder was the fierce tiger's eye.
Then he spoke. His deep voice knocked against Unohana's heart and threw open the gates of hell.
"Shatter the chains, [Prison Demon]."
At his words, purple-black mist rose from Luke's body and drifted upward on the breeze. For an instant, the tiger in the huge painting seemed to come alive, because its eyes had gained a soul.
Its muscular forelimbs were coiled to strike as it faced the vicious demon. Purple-black fire blazed in its eyes, mirroring the battle intent rising from the man beneath it.
Roar!
The tremor of Spiritual Pressure sounded like a tiger's roar and a dragon's cry, as though a demon god imprisoned through countless cycles of reincarnation was cheering—and pouring out its wrath.
Luke stood there, holding a newly born Zanpakuto.
The black blade had a hollow blood groove running through its center. Twisted, vine-like purple-black patterns covered it, extending all the way to the hilt, where they became purple-black chains winding around Luke's arm.
Purple-black mist coiled around him. Set against all that blood, he looked like an asura descended from hell.
Luke slowly exhaled. Reborn, his Spiritual Pressure surged again, temporarily reaching the same level as Unohana's. Only then did he feel the suppressive force acting on him, which meant his Spiritual Pressure could have risen even higher.
Every one of his combat attributes had increased by one point. Strength, his lowest attribute, had increased by two.
More than that, his senses had become sharper, and his neural response speed had taken a tremendous leap.
And compared to the Asauchi, [Prison Demon] was on an entirely different level of sharpness.
Unohana watched Luke after his Shikai, a dangerous smile on her lips. "A Shikai? Luke, it seems you can still entertain me even more."
She held Minazuki without releasing it. Her Zanpakuto was of the biological type; in Shikai, it transformed into a massive, flat, one-eyed creature resembling a stingray. It would not help in the battle before her—if anything, it would only get in the way of her enjoyment.
"Final exams..."
Luke shifted to a two-handed grip and lowered his stance. Battle intent surged in his purple-black eyes. "...time to hand in my paper, Teacher!"
As his voice fell, the tatami flipped and launched backward. A shockwave erupted, and the purple-black mist stretched into a long streak across the enormous painting.
Minazuki collided with [Prison Demon], sparks bursting like silver blossoms from an iron tree.
In an instant, they traded dozens of blows. Murderous delight gleamed in Unohana's eyes.
Yes. Just like that. Entertain me.
[Prison Demon] crashed down from above. Unohana gripped Minazuki in one hand and braced its spine with the other, blocking Luke's attack.
Then, to her surprise, Luke did not flip backward to bleed off the force. Instead, at the instant their blades collided, he pushed harder and used the massive recoil to launch himself upward.
He shot toward the ceiling like a bullet, twisted in midair, and inverted himself. Once again, he found footing. His legs bunched with muscle like the tiger in the painting, and his bare toes gripped the ceiling like claws.
The next moment, Luke fired downward like a cannonball. His black blade, wreathed in purple-black mist, slashed for Unohana's head.
Clang!
Unohana blocked the strike, but her body dipped under its weight. She had to retreat several steps before she could disperse the force. A thousand years of battle experience sent her shifting away at once, narrowly evading Luke's follow-up slash.
They accelerated again. Sword-light and blood-light danced together, sketching a painting of violence and slaughter through the drifting mist.
The floor, walls, and ceiling all became footholds. Their battle had risen from two dimensions into three.
Amid the sparks thrown off by clashing Zanpakuto, two pairs of fevered eyes met. Killing intent and battle intent tangled together.
After another collision, the immense force hurled them backward. Both landed against opposite walls.
Boom!
The wall behind Luke shattered as he exploded forward, becoming a purple-black streak of light.
Unohana's charge made no sound, but its killing intent was terrifying. At high speed, she became an ash-white phantom.
They met at the midpoint and passed one another. A blood-red arc splashed across the enormous painting like spilled ink, dyeing the demon crimson before sliding slowly down from its chest like an eerie rain.
Luke turned and looked at the arm that had just fallen from the air.
It was his left arm, severed almost cleanly at the shoulder.
Luke flicked the blood from his blade, drawing an elegant arc over the floor, and looked toward Unohana beneath the painted demon.
"Hahaha..."
Unohana faced away from him, her laughter faintly unhinged. "Luke, would you like to join the Fourth Division?"
Luke raised a hand and used Kaidō to seal the wound and stop the bleeding. He shook his head. "Your offer is tempting, but I want to see the wider world first."
"Is that so...? What a shame. But you're right. The Fourth Division doesn't suit you."
Unohana slowly turned around. A wound ran across her chest from her left shoulder to her lower abdomen, just like the wounds she used to carve into Luke while teaching him Kaidō.
She had lost.
If her Spiritual Pressure had not once been so overwhelmingly high, the force behind Luke's strike would have cut her in two.
In that final instant, Luke had been just a fraction faster than her—and more decisive. The result was that Luke lost an arm, while she suffered a "fatal wound."
With her battle experience, she could naturally tell who had won and who had lost. Luke's strike had cut her back to her senses.
She could have kept fighting. She could have continued savoring the slaughter until Luke died. But now that her mind was clear again, she knew that would not only be irresponsible as an examiner—it would be a waste of something precious.
She stared at the one-armed man before her, her eyes gleaming with longing for the future.
I truly want to fight you... when we are both at our peak.
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