The portal spat them into an arena that looked like it had been carved from a volcano.
Yamamoto's feet touched down on black stone. Heat radiated from below—not enough to bother him, but enough that he knew where they were. Some private space, maybe a pocket dimension built into the Tower. The ceiling stretched up at least a hundred meters, walls made of dark rock that probably wouldn't survive what was about to happen.
"Nice place," Yuri said, dropping beside him. Evan floated next to her, already looking worried. "She brings all her dates here?"
Evankhell appeared across from them, flames dancing around her body like living creatures. "This is my training ground. When I need to cut loose without breaking the floor." Her eyes locked on Yamamoto. "You said you're stronger than anyone here. Prove it."
Yamamoto didn't answer. He was studying her. The way she moved, how the flames responded to her will, the confidence in her stance. She wasn't bluffing or posturing. This woman had fought for centuries, climbed the Tower, earned her spot as Floor Ruler and Top 100 Ranker.
She was a real warrior.
Good, he thought. I hate fighting amateurs.
"Yuri, Evan," Evankhell said without looking away from Yamamoto, "back up. Way back. Unless you want to get burned."
"Princess," Evan said quickly, "we should—"
"We're staying." Yuri's eyes were glued to Yamamoto. "I want to see this."
Evankhell shrugged. "Your funeral."
She attacked.
No warning, no dramatic buildup. One second she was standing still, the next she was moving—fast, way faster than her size suggested. Her hand came up wreathed in flames, and a massive fireball launched at Yamamoto like a missile.
He didn't dodge.
His hand moved in a simple cutting motion. The fireball split in two, both halves curving around him to crash into the wall behind. Stone exploded, showering the arena with debris.
Evankhell was already there, close now, her fist aimed at his face. Fire trailed behind it—not just coating her hand, but coming from inside her. Like her body had become a furnace.
Yamamoto caught the punch.
His hand closed around her fist. Steam exploded from the contact point—her flames meeting his spiritual pressure, neither winning. For a second they just stood there, locked together, testing each other's strength.
"Huh," Evankhell said. Her grin got wider. "You're not even sweating."
"Your flames are impressive," Yamamoto said. "You'll need more than that."
"Good thing I've got more."
She pulled back and unleashed a storm. Flames came from everywhere—her hands, her feet, the air around her. They twisted into shapes: dragons, spears, waves of fire that filled the arena. The temperature spiked so high that the stone under their feet started to glow red.
Yamamoto walked forward through the inferno.
His spiritual pressure created a bubble around him. Not a shield exactly—more like space itself refusing to let the flames touch him. They came within a meter and just stopped, held back by pure force of will.
"Impossible," he heard Evan whisper from somewhere behind him. "She's putting out enough heat to melt steel. How is he—"
"He's not even trying yet," Yuri said. Her voice had something in it. Excitement? Fear? Both? "Look at his eyes. He's still just studying her."
She was right. Yamamoto was analyzing everything—the way Evankhell controlled her flames, how she mixed them with Shinsu, the rhythm of her attacks. She was strong, no doubt. Top 100 for a reason. But she fought like someone who'd always been the biggest threat in the room.
She'd never faced something beyond her level.
Time to show her, he thought.
"Enough," Yamamoto said. The word cut through the flames, through the heat, through everything. "My turn."
He raised his hand. The wooden staff materialized—Ryujin Jakka in its sealed form.
"Reduce all creation to ash," he said quietly. "Ryujin Jakka."
The staff became a katana. Flames erupted from the blade, but these weren't the same fire Evankhell used. These were older, hotter, born from a Shinigami's soul and translated into something this Tower could barely contain.
Yamamoto swung the blade in a simple horizontal arc.
The wall of fire that came out wasn't massive. It was maybe three meters tall, compact, focused. But everything it touched didn't just burn—it ceased to exist. Stone turned to ash before the flames even reached it. The air itself ignited. The wave of heat moved forward like a tsunami made of destruction.
Evankhell threw up her hands. Flames poured from her, creating a barrier—probably the same defense that had saved her life a hundred times before.
The barrier lasted two seconds.
Yamamoto's flames punched through like it wasn't there. Evankhell dove to the side, fast, but not quite fast enough. The edge of his attack caught her shoulder. She screamed—not in pain, but in surprise—as the flames burned through her own fire defense and scorched her skin.
She hit the ground rolling, came up on one knee, and stared at him with wide eyes.
"What the fuck," she said, breathing hard now, "was that?"
"Zanpakuto," Yamamoto said, lowering the blade. Flames still danced along its edge. "From my old world."
"And you can just... bring it here?" Evankhell stared at the weapon. "Use it like normal?"
"I'm an Irregular." Yamamoto's eyes met hers. "The Tower's rules don't apply to me. Not fully."
Evankhell stood up slowly. Her shoulder was burned—not badly, but enough that he could see the wound. She looked at it, then at him, then started laughing.
"Holy shit," she said. "You're the real deal. Not some lucky bastard who walked through the door. You're an actual monster from another world." Her grin came back, bigger than ever. "I love it."
"Are you going to keep fighting?" Yamamoto asked. "Or are we done?"
"Oh, we're not done." Evankhell's flames changed color—going from red-orange to white-blue. The temperature in the arena doubled. "That was me testing you. Now let me show you what earned me my spot in the Top 100."
Her body started to change. The flames weren't just around her anymore—they were part of her, transforming her into something else. A hybrid form, half-human and half something ancient. Horns grew from her head. Her skin took on a dark red color that might have been scales or might have been armor. Wings made of fire spread from her back.
"This," Yuri said from behind him, "is her Ancient form. She's going all out."
"Good," Yamamoto said. "So am I."
He tightened his grip on Ryujin Jakka. The flames along the blade intensified, and the air around him started to shimmer. His spiritual pressure had been leaking out this whole time, but now he let it really flow. Not all of it—that would probably crack this pocket dimension in half—but enough.
The ground under his feet cracked. The stone began to melt.
Evankhell moved first. She was faster now, way faster. Her fist came at him wreathed in white flames, and this time when it connected with his defense, there was an explosion that shook the entire arena.
They traded blows.
Yamamoto had centuries of sword technique. Evankhell had raw power and speed that came from being a natural Ancient and a High Ranker. Every time Ryujin Jakka's flames met her fire, the air screamed. Every impact sent shockwaves that cracked the walls.
"He's matching her," Evan said, sounding shocked. "She's in Ancient form using High Ranker reinforcement and he's just... keeping up."
"More than keeping up," Yuri corrected. Her eyes tracked every movement. "Look at his technique. Every move is perfect. Zero wasted motion. She's throwing everything at him and he's barely working."
She was right. Evankhell was strong, fast, dangerous—but Yamamoto had faced worse. This was intense, sure, but it wasn't pushing his limits.
He decided to push hers.
"Nadegiri," Yamamoto said, performing a simple upward slash.
A massive blade of fire shot from Ryujin Jakka, fifty meters tall and so hot it turned the air into plasma. It moved too fast to dodge, too wide to go around.
Evankhell met it head-on. Her flames formed a shield, condensed and focused, using techniques he didn't know. The two attacks collided in the center of the arena.
For three seconds, they held. Fire against fire, will against will.
Then Yamamoto pushed.
His flames broke through. Not by much—just enough that Evankhell had to leap back, wings carrying her up and away as his attack tore through where she'd been standing.
She landed thirty meters away, breathing hard. Her Ancient form was still active, but he could see the strain now. This was taking everything she had.
"You're incredible," Evankhell said. "I've fought High Rankers who couldn't push me this far."
Yamamoto said nothing. Just stood there, waiting.
"Yeah." She grinned, even though she was clearly reaching her limit. "Yeah, you are." Her flames started to fade, the Ancient form dissolving. "Okay. I'm done. You win."
Yamamoto lowered Ryujin Jakka. The blade reverted to its staff form, then vanished. "You're giving up?"
"Hell no. I'm not 'giving up.'" Evankhell walked toward him, limping slightly. "I'm acknowledging reality. I throw everything I've got at you, and you barely break a sweat. I keep going, and you'll have to hurt me for real to stop me. That's stupid." She stopped a few meters away. "You're stronger than me. Simple as that."
"Most people wouldn't admit that."
"Most people are idiots." She looked at him with something like respect. "You said you'd teach me there are levels of power I can't imagine. Message received. So what now? You going to demand I let you through?"
Yamamoto thought about it. The smart play would be to use this win, force her to clear his path. But looking at Evankhell—burned, exhausted, but still grinning—he saw something he recognized.
A warrior who respected strength.
"No demands," he said. "I'll climb the normal way. Take whatever tests you want."
Evankhell's grin got wider. "Deal. And hey—when you hit the higher floors, when you start making waves up there?" She held out her hand. "Remember who gave you your first real fight in the Tower."
Yamamoto looked at her hand. Then he took it. "Fair enough."
They shook. Two fire-wielders, acknowledging each other as equals.
"Princess Yuri," Evankhell called out, "take care of this old monster. He's going to flip this Tower on its head."
"That's the plan," Yuri said, walking over. She looked at Yamamoto with an expression he couldn't quite read. "You okay?"
"I'm fine."
"Of course you are." She shook her head. "Just fought a Top 100 Ranker and you're 'fine.' Ridiculous."
"Can we go?" Yamamoto asked. "I didn't come to this Tower to spend all day fighting administrators."
"Where are you going?" Evankhell asked.
"Up," Yamamoto said. "All the way to the top. I died in my old world. I'm not wasting this second chance standing around."
Evankhell watched him for a long moment. Then she nodded. "Yeah. I get that." She waved her hand, and a portal opened. "There's an express route to Floor 3. Usually only for people I approve personally. You earned it."
Yamamoto walked toward the portal. Yuri fell in beside him, Evan floating behind.
"Hey, old man," Evankhell called out.
He stopped. Looked back.
"What's your goal? Top of the Tower? Answers about why you're here? What?"
Yamamoto was quiet for a second.
"I spent my entire life fighting to protect something. Following rules, serving a system." His red eyes burned. "This time, I'm going to find out what I want. And I'm going to take it."
He walked through the portal.
Behind him, Evankhell smiled.
"Oh yeah," she said to the empty arena. "This Tower is fucked."