Blinding light burst from his fingertip, washing the intruder's face in crimson.
The man's eyes flew wide. He could hardly believe what was happening.
The Reiatsu this guy was putting out was only around the level of a high-ranking seated officer.
But that unreasonable aggression felt like a beast that had snapped its leash, brutally crushing the defenses he'd built up.
In the instant their blades clashed, the outer layer of his Reiatsu was torn apart like paper.
He basically had no way to fight back.
Since when did a place like the Central Prison have the luxury of keeping someone this strong without even making him a Head Jailer?
Staring down the roaring fireball rushing toward him, the intruder grit his teeth, forced himself out of the rubble, and desperately brought his Zanpakutō up in front of him,
trying to block the strike head-on.
A moment later, a series of scalp-numbing sounds rang out. Blade and flame collided again and again, spraying blinding flares of light.
The smell of burnt flesh filled the Intake Room. The intruder's hands had been roasted to a charred mess, the flesh dried and cracked.
But he still didn't dare relax for even a second.
Naraku's Shakkahō was completely different from anything he knew.
It squeezed out twelve parts of destructive power from ten parts of Reiatsu—this wasn't the kind of Shakkahō a mere seated officer should be able to cast.
Boom—
A deafening blast shook the room. Blood sprayed through the glare, mixed with fragments of bone and viscera, composing a hellish scene of tragedy.
By the time Nishikawa arrived, what greeted him was pure devastation.
Broken walls and shattered cells everywhere; the intruder lay charred black on a floor full of cracks.
His face was twisted in agony, features contorted, clearly unconscious.
Off to one side, several Shinigami were piled together, apparently still out cold.
Naraku Sora's first battle had come to an end.
"Nishikawa-senpai, perfect timing."
Someone grinned, showing rows of white teeth, his smile carrying a faint chill.
"Don't worry, I've already taken care of this guy."
"So, which level of Hell are we tossing him into?"
You had to admit, the sheer joy of raw stats beating someone down felt way better than anything relying on clever mechanics.
All the gains he'd gotten from suppressing the Adjuchas and the rebels had fully shown their worth in this fight.
Their Reiatsu had been roughly the same, but Naraku could pummel the man into the ground and leave him with no room to fight back.
That was the beauty of numbers.
Nishikawa's mouth twitched. His gums even twinged a bit for some reason—why did this kid's fighting style feel more suited to Eleventh Division?
"Don't call me senpai. You're the senpai now."
He walked over, took a few steps to the intruder's side, squatted down, and examined him carefully.
The man was more out than in; still breathing, but if he didn't get treatment soon, he wouldn't last long.
Forget sending him down to the Hells for punishment.
Nishikawa stood up and shook his head.
"You didn't think to ask what he was here for before you attacked him?"
There was no saving this one. All that was left was to wait for him to die.
Unless a Fourth Division captain or vice-captain showed up within half an hour, there'd be no pulling him back.
With the Central Prison's current medical level, they definitely couldn't handle injuries this bad.
Naraku frowned.
"What's the point of asking? The guy came to my turf to cause trouble. You expect me to smile and walk him out politely?"
Nishikawa was speechless for a moment.
Your turf? Why did everything this kid said sound so off?
Aren't you worried Lady Shutara will toss you into Hell to fill a hole if you keep talking like that?
After hesitating a moment, Nishikawa sighed and said helplessly:
"Remember what I told you before about the Central 46?"
Naraku nodded.
"To put it bluntly, a lot of our problems come from those high-and-mighty big shots."
Nishikawa's eyes were full of complicated emotion, his voice dropping lower.
"Usually, there's a noble family backing so-called 'rebels.'"
"And the point of using them is to win more benefits for their own clan."
"But some things can't be done openly. If they just rip their faces off and fight in public, nobody walks away looking good."
"So the nobles cultivate wave after wave of Shinigami 'rebels' who operate outside the Gotei 13, using them to grab profits in the shadows."
"Things like people, mineral resources, business… that sort of thing."
Naraku mulled it over, then put on a straight face and said calmly:
"But what does any of that have to do with me, a vanguard of justice?"
"Someone broke into the Intake Room and tried to spring prisoners. I happened to show up and stopped a crime."
"If anybody has complaints, they can take it up with my Warden."
Nishikawa hadn't said it outright, but the meaning between the lines was obvious.
The half-dead guy on the ground was likely a noble, and he'd come to the Intake Room to silence the rebels from before.
But he'd been a step too late.
Before anyone could interrogate them, Naraku had already sent all of them down to the Hells.
Right place, right time—or not, depending on your perspective.
Naraku didn't yet have the ability to meddle in the petty scheming of nobles.
But as the saying went, thirty years east of the river, thirty years west. One day he'd settle the score with all of them.
After all, his rewards from suppressing criminals were based on sin value.
The higher a sinner's sin value, the better the chance of pulling something good out of them.
Looking at Soul Society's history, it wasn't hard to see that most of those high-and-mighty nobles were stains on its name—calling them the root of chaos wouldn't be an exaggeration.
Acts of evil would never be spared.
Listening to Naraku's shamelessly "righteous" lines, Nishikawa didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"It sounds a bit off, but there's nothing wrong with it, really."
"With the Warden here, those nobles won't dare cause trouble inside the Central Prison."
"As for this guy…"
Nishikawa thought for a moment.
"Breaking into the Central Prison—according to Soul Society's Article 167, he should have a third of his spiritual power stripped and be locked in the First Underground Prison, Reviving Hell."
"But he's not going to live long as it is, so there's no need to—"
Before he could finish, Naraku had already wrapped the intruder up like a zongzi using rope-like Bakudō, grabbed him in one hand, and hoisted him up.
"We still have to follow procedure."
With that, he carried the half-dead intruder and headed toward the underground prison.
Watching his back disappear, Nishikawa opened his mouth, then shut it again. In the end, all his words turned into a helpless sigh.
Once upon a time, he'd been full of justice like Naraku.
But as he saw more and more darkness, every heavy incident piled on like another mountain,
until he could barely breathe.
He muttered under his breath, "Must be nice… there's always someone coming after us…"
Reviving Hell.
Naraku opened a cell door with one hand and tossed the intruder in with the other.
[Successfully suppressed criminal: Araki Makoto. Sin value: 99. Contribution: 100%!]
[Your Reiatsu has increased. Current Reiatsu grade: Level 10!]
[Your understanding of Hadō has improved. You have perfectly mastered Hadō #33: Sōkatsui!]
[Your growth potential has increased by 100%!]
Naraku: "?"
What do you mean, my growth potential has increased by 100%?