In the world of Bleach, the concepts of Spiritual Pressure and Spiritual Might could be simply understood as the "density of the soul."
Generally speaking, the higher one's Spiritual Pressure, the more spiritual power they could wield. How finely they controlled that power depended on the individual.
This mostly applied to Soul Reapers and Hollows. Take Ichigo Kurosaki, the protagonist, for example. His Spiritual Pressure was incredibly high, but his control was poor. Early on, he could not freely regulate his Spiritual Pressure and had little mastery over his spiritual power. Just look at the spiritual-power passageway he formed when heading to Hueco Mundo.
Quincies were more unusual. They did not necessarily possess overwhelming Spiritual Pressure, but because they fought by manipulating spirit particles, the amount of spiritual power available to them was not necessarily any less.
In Luke's understanding, Soul Reapers condensed the power of spirit particles within themselves and fought with their own strength, while Quincies could borrow power from the world around them.
So the level of one's Spiritual Pressure definitely did not correspond directly to the "mana" he knew from games, nor did it entirely correspond to his current Spirit attribute. It was a more comprehensive measure.
For example, his current physical body was extremely powerful. If he truly was a soul in the world of Bleach, then his soul density should obviously be high—and his Spiritual Pressure would not be low either.
Still, since Soul Reaper combat often relied on releasing Spiritual Pressure, Luke figured that his Spirit attribute probably made up a very important part of his Spiritual Might rating.
"This is..."
Instructor Fujimoto stared at the screen in surprise, while the surrounding students erupted into murmurs.
Violet-black light flickered as the gauge on the display shot upward. The instant Luke placed his hand on the device, it tore through all ten marked sections.
"Level 20 Spiritual Might!"
Someone cried out.
Yet quite a few students remained calm. Since Shin'o Academy had been founded, it had seen plenty of prodigies. Historically, there had even been monsters who entered with Spiritual Might in the single digits.
But as the number on the screen continued to change, more and more expressions turned grave.
Level 20... Level 19... Level 18... Level 17 Spiritual Might!
"Is that enough?"
When the number finally stopped fluctuating, Luke turned to Instructor Fujimoto and asked.
Unlike the stunned students, he did not think his Spiritual Might rating was particularly high. He knew that the prodigies of the original story had entered with single-digit ratings.
For instance, Shiba Kaien, who would appear two centuries later, and later still, Gin and Toshiro Hitsugaya. Their Spiritual Might upon enrollment would surely crush his current level.
But Luke was not disappointed. He was not from this world, nor was he a true spirit-particle lifeform. His strengths lay in his phenomenal growth potential, exceptional combat techniques, and instinctive battle sense.
"No wonder Captain Unohana brought you here. You really are a remarkable talent. Let's proceed to the next test."
Instructor Fujimoto composed himself, then walked to one side and picked up two bamboo swords.
In truth, Luke's Level 17 Spiritual Might was not particularly outstanding among this year's new students. It would not even rank in the top ten. What surprised Fujimoto was that Luke had originally been nothing more than a drifter from the Rukongai.
Those prodigies who enrolled with single-digit Spiritual Might might not have possessed much greater natural talent than Luke. Most of them came from noble families or powerful clans within Soul Society and had received training since childhood.
They had cultivated within their families for years before entering Shin'o Academy, so naturally they had impressive Spiritual Might ratings.
But Fujimoto knew Luke had received no training at all. The boy did not even know how to condense spirit particles. That Level 17 Spiritual Might was entirely inborn talent!
If he studied diligently at the academy for six years, Luke's Spiritual Might could absolutely reach Level 8—or perhaps even Level 6, the level of a seated officer.
In Fujimoto's eyes, Luke was already an uncut gem. The only question was how much talent he had for combat.
With that in mind, he tossed one of the bamboo swords to Luke. "Come at me."
Luke caught the bamboo sword and weighed it in his hand. He seemed to understand. This so-called second test was not part of the entrance examination at all. Fujimoto simply wanted to see his swordsmanship.
That was why the instructor had said Luke would become an official student as soon as he passed the first test. This was merely the swordsmanship teacher testing him.
When Luke remained where he was instead of attacking, Fujimoto assumed he was hesitating. "Don't worry. I'll suppress my Spiritual Might to your level, and I'll stop short of hurting you. Attack with everything you've got."
At those words, the corners of Luke's mouth curled upward despite himself. He looked at Fujimoto. "Are you sure?"
Fujimoto frowned. He had the feeling that this young man was looking down on him.
"Don't think about anything else. Just attack. Strike with the resolve to kill me. Let me see your level so I can make a training plan and help you catch up with the other students."
Before retiring to become Shin'o Academy's swordsmanship instructor, Fujimoto had been a seated officer. He considered himself fairly accomplished in the way of the sword.
Luke had some talent, sure. He had probably experienced plenty of brawls while growing up in the chaotic Rukongai and had relied on that talent to avoid losing. That was why he was so arrogant.
Today, Fujimoto would teach this cocky young man a lesson. He would show him that the crude tricks of Rukongai street fights were worthless before real swordsmanship!
"The resolve to kill you..."
Luke repeated the words. He held the bamboo sword at his side and lowered his body slightly.
In that instant, Fujimoto felt the young man standing so loosely before him transform. It was in his eyes—and in the invisible pressure rolling off him.
Like a tiger crouching before the hunt. Like a famed blade gathering force within its sheath.
Beneath those lowered brows burned barely contained excitement, like a volcano on the verge of eruption. It was the madness of a warrior, the fervor of a brute.
The next instant, the wooden floor beneath Luke's feet buckled backward. He launched forward like a cannonball, yet somehow seemed weightless as he flew.
The dozen meters between them vanished in a flash. The bamboo sword carved an elegant arc through the air, like a master sweeping ink across rice paper. It was only a bamboo sword, yet it carried the blood-soaked gleam of a blade.
Bang!
At the last possible moment, Fujimoto blocked the strike with his own bamboo sword. The shockwave sent his long hair and Luke's fringe whipping through the air.
As their eyes met, Fujimoto saw the yearning in Luke's gaze... and the exhilaration.
"Damn it!"
Alarm blared in Fujimoto's mind. He had already been three steps too slow on the first exchange, while the young man's assault would not stop.
His opponent felt like a swordsmanship master seasoned by countless battles—or someone born with an instinctive feel for combat, who never missed even the smallest flaw in an opponent.
Sure enough, as Fujimoto began to turn his blade, Luke's next strike slipped through his guard like a snake darting from the grass, thrusting straight at his throat!
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