As Vice-Captain Ashido requested backup, Shiki's gaze swept swiftly across the battlefield.
The 11th Division's warriors were still fighting fiercely—every swing of their blades scattering Hollow remains.
But on closer inspection, their movements were no longer as sharp or effortless. Their breathing was heavier now.
The 13th Division was struggling even more.
They specialized in soul purification and guidance, not prolonged high-intensity combat. Yet with the Hollows continuing to pour in, many were forced to draw their Zanpakutō and join the fray.
Some were visibly pale, sweat beading on their brows. Their Reiryoku circulation wavered with signs of instability.
This wasn't the Soul Society. Here in the Living World, spirit particles were thin—exhausted Reiryoku couldn't replenish quickly.
At this rate, the first group of Shinigami would hit their limits very soon.
Shiki looked up again at the sky.
The situation hadn't improved—in fact, it had worsened. Even more Hollows surged from the rifts now.
And among them, new types had begun to emerge—monsters with shredded bone wings growing from their backs.
Faster. More agile. Much harder to deal with.
"Vice-Captain Ashido," Shiki said, calm but urgent, "how long until backup arrives?"
Ashido, just finishing storing away his communicator, glanced upward toward the gaping sky.
"Fastest case—thirty minutes," he answered, his voice heavy. "That's assuming the Technical Division responds immediately, and the Senkaimon is ready for deployment."
Thirty minutes.
Ashido tightened his grip on his Zanpakutō, bent his knees slightly.
And then—boom.
The ground beneath his feet cracked as he shot into the air like a cannon, aiming straight for the rift cluster overhead.
His blade traced a cold arc in midair, bisecting two winged Hollows emerging from the tear.
"Then we hold the line," came his voice as the wind carried it down.
Shiki watched Ashido's silhouette battle overhead, then glanced at the ground where more Shinigami were clearly faltering.
He hadn't expected his second mission to the Living World to turn into an all-out siege.
His eyes drifted to his Zanpakutō at his waist—but after a pause, he let go of the hilt.
No matter what happens… as long as Kenpachi Kuruyashiki is here, we still have a trump card.
That alone was enough to steady his heart.
In a flash, he vanished—reappearing beneath another rift, slightly below Ashido's altitude.
His role was clear now: intercept anything that slipped past.
Below, the human armies began pulling back.
Maybe it was the sheer scale of the casualties. Maybe the commanders could feel the unnatural malice saturating the field. But the soldiers on both sides began to retreat in formation.
Banners pulled back through the smoke. Screams quieted.
The so-called "decisive battle" ended in a stalemate, both sides having lost at least 20% of their forces.
But for the Shinigami…
The true nightmare was only beginning.
The humans had left behind a field full of fresh souls—and overhead, the sky still churned with rifts pouring out Hollows without end.
Floating midair, Shiki raised his finger.
Pure Reishi gathered rapidly at his fingertip, humming sharply.
"Lightning of turbulence, heed my pact."
"Let all struck become a node."
The silver glow deepened. Blue runes flickered faintly within the compressed energy.
"Hadō #4: Modified—"
He pointed at three moth-like winged Hollows flying in a triangle formation.
"Chain Lightning Glyph."
Shht!
A thin, silver-blue bolt no wider than a thumb shot out, impossibly fast.
It struck the chest of the first Hollow—clean through.
But instead of dispersing, the bolt sharpened and curved, drawn by invisible runes within, and pierced a second, then a third.
And then it kept going.
A fourth, fifth—nine total.
Nine Hollows fell in less than two seconds, their heads blasted apart by that same dancing bolt. Only when the ninth collapsed into Reishi dust did the glow fade and the glyph vanish.
Nine kills. One strike.
The display didn't go unnoticed.
From below, Shiba Kaien arrived with a squad of elite 13th Division Shinigami, just in time to witness the maneuver.
The squad gasped.
"Amazing..."
"What kind of Hadō was that? That's not in any Academy textbook!"
Kaien, however, didn't look impressed.
He Shunpo'd toward Shiki, expression dark.
"Fifth Seat Shiki!" he barked, anger taut in his voice.
"If you have that kind of power, that kind of technique—then you should shoulder the responsibility that comes with it!"
"Protecting life in the World of the Living is part of our mission! Earlier, with those onmyōji—"
He clearly hadn't let go of Shiki's earlier "failure" to intervene in time. To him, Shiki's actions hadn't measured up.
But Shiki didn't even look at him.
Instead, he dropped into a crouch and pressed both palms flat against the bloodied, smoke-stained ground.
The earth was cold.
And then—he began to chant.
"Fleeing red mist, veil the breath and bind the limbs."
Kaien frowned deeper, recognizing the first line.
"What are you doing?! That's Red Smoke Escape—a concealment Bakudō! We don't need stealth, we need offense!"
But Shiki ignored him.
His voice was calm, precise.
"Ice-born fog, soul-bound mist. Silence the breath, bury the step—"
As he chanted, pale blue light spread from his palms, frost crystallizing on the earth beneath.
"Bakudō #21: Modified—"
He lifted both hands forcefully.
"Veil of Frosted Silence."
WHOOOM.
A burst of glacial mist exploded outward, flooding the air with icy fog that blanketed several hundred meters.
It engulfed the area beneath the most concentrated Hollow rifts.
As the mist touched the winged Hollows, jagged ice crystals spread over their limbs and wings, weighing them down, slowing their flight, disrupting their balance.
Some crashed to the ground mid-dive. Others became easy targets.
The very air thickened—cold, oppressive, sluggish.
Shiki rose, dusting his palms.
"At this point," he said blandly, "I believe my contributions to the battlefield—in terms of Hollow kills and tactical impact—exceed yours, 3rd Seat Shiba."
And with that, he blurred into a new Shunpo, streaking toward Ashido's embattled position to provide cover.
Kaien stood motionless, staring at his back. Then he looked around.
Everywhere the fog touched, Hollows were flailing—frozen, grounded, crushed.
Around him, his men were already moving in, taking advantage of the suppression.
Kaien's jaw clenched. His molars ground together.
And then he spun around and bellowed:
"What are you standing there for?! Attack! Take out every last one while they're frozen—NOW!"
...