The Captain-Commander decided to intervene personally. Summoned by the commotion, his spiritual pressure filled the division grounds with the weight of command. His Zanpakutō, forged through centuries of battle, shifted in his grasp—its sealed form expanding and reshaping into a massive iron staff wrapped in threads of spiritual fire.
With no hesitation, he swung it downward, the weapon crashing toward Moyu's head like a meteor drawn by gravity itself.
The instant Moyu sensed the surge of that violent Reiatsu closing in, a cold shiver ran down his spine. The raw power behind that strike was immense, but as a Shinigami, Moyu's instincts were sharper than any mortal's. His perception of danger flared instantly, and his body moved on reflex, head tilting just enough for the blow to graze past in a rush of wind that split the floorboards beneath him.
As the dust lifted, Moyu stepped back, putting distance between them while his eyes locked on his opponent. He studied the man before him—every subtle movement, every fluctuation of spiritual energy.
"So," he said evenly, his tone half-curious, half-taunting, "you're the Captain-Commander of this world. I've heard the title sits above all others. If your power matches your reputation, then perhaps this won't be a waste of time."
The words made the old commander pause, a flicker of amusement passing over his face. Moyu's composure, his unshakable confidence, was rare even among Captains. It reminded him of the arrogance of youth—the kind that came with power untested by centuries of war.
But arrogance or not, Moyu's presence was undeniable. His Reiatsu coiled around him like a living storm.
Without another word, Moyu launched forward. His movements were swift, efficient, almost too fluid to follow. He feinted left, twisted his hips, and drove a kick toward the Captain-Commander's chest. But the veteran didn't so much as flinch. He caught the strike on his forearm, the impact sending a small shockwave through the chamber.
The Captain-Commander smiled faintly. "You think raw strength alone will make a scene in my command hall? You overestimate yourself, boy."
Moyu's answering smirk was sharp. "We'll see who's overestimating who."
The words had barely left his lips when the delayed power from his earlier kick pulsed through. The Captain-Commander's eyes narrowed as a deep ache surged through his blocking arm three seconds too late, the pain cutting like a delayed blade of pressure. He staggered a step back, the floor beneath him groaning under the strain.
For an instant, even he was forced to adjust his footing. To be pushed that far by a single unarmed strike—it wasn't something he'd expected.
Moyu straightened, his gaze steady and voice low. "Still think it's just raw strength?"
Had that blow thrown him from the hall, the old man's reputation would have shattered. Even for one of his stature, such humiliation before the Gotei's eyes would have lingered for centuries.
That realization stung more than the pain itself.
Moyu tilted his head, watching him with an expression caught between amusement and mild confusion. "Why are you staring like that? Don't tell me you've lost the will to fight. If you came here to test me, then move—don't waste time pretending to measure me."
He vanished with a burst of speed, reappearing in front of the Captain-Commander and unleashing another series of kicks, each one infused with tightly coiled spiritual force that struck not only with impact but with lingering, delayed pulses of pressure. The rhythm of the blows made no sense—each came just slightly off-tempo, unpredictable and asynchronous, preventing any rhythm from forming.
The Captain-Commander blocked and countered, yet the more he defended, the more his body betrayed him. The delayed force from each earlier strike began to overlap, compounding until every block sent shockwaves through his arms and shoulders.
He gritted his teeth. Moyu's style had no discernible pattern, no steady cadence to read. It was chaos refined into technique, a tempo without a beat.
In that moment, even the great Captain-Commander realized—he couldn't keep up with Moyu's rhythm.
{🥳 The Fanfic is now fully completed! 🎉
You can access 250+ advance chapters right now on Patreon—available for subscription or purchase! ✨
👉 patreon.com/Oreski
🥰 Your support keeps me motivated and eager to create even more amazing stories!}