Renji looked at the hole he had made earlier, still feeling the shockwaves from Yukina and Takeko's clash that made the floorboards beneath his boots tremble.
He let out a low whistle, impressed by how hard they were going at it.
"Damn, Yukina and Emi are really tearing this whole place down," he muttered, a reckless grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Can't let the girls have all the fun, can I? When will that opponent that Haruka was talking about arrive?"
He straightened his back, his golden spirit energy flickering around his knuckles like dying embers waiting for a breeze.
Then, he heard it.
The slow, deliberate cadence of heavy footsteps approaching from the darkness of the north corridor.
The weight of the newcomer's presence was oppressive—it didn't feel like the refined Ki of a martial artist nor a spirit energy of a Karyoku user, but the raw, bludgeoning power of a street-certified killer.
From the shadows, a figure emerged.
