"There's no need for me to draw my sword!"
Although Ren Kuro's voice was not loud, in the dead-silent square, every word rang out with absolute clarity.
The entire place exploded in uproar.
"Did I hear that right? He's facing the great swordsman Mihawk and still doesn't plan to draw his blade?"
"Even for Death, that's way too arrogant! Mihawk is one of the strongest swordsmen in the world!"
"It looks like the two of them are destined to fight to the death…"
As their gazes shifted back and forth between Ren Kuro and Mihawk, everyone could clearly sense the danger in the air. It was like two savage beasts had collided. What came next was bound to be a brutal and bloody clash.
"No need to draw your sword?"
Mihawk froze for an instant, then his expression darkened completely.
As one of the very few men truly qualified to contend for the title of World's Strongest Swordsman, he had never once been looked down on to his face like this.
"Facing me… and you don't even need to draw your blade?"
"What a ridiculous statement!"
Mihawk laughed in fury. Taking a single step forward, he raised the black blade Yoru high into the air.
In the next instant, a crescent-green slash tore through the air and shot straight at Ren Kuro.
It was a strike from Hawk-Eye Mihawk—an attack that could almost be called the greatest slash in the world. If it landed cleanly, death would be instantaneous.
Yet even as that dark green slash raced toward him, Ren Kuro remained expressionless, motionless.
That indifferent attitude only enraged Mihawk further.
"Hawk-Eye, you still don't understand, do you?"
Suddenly, the corner of Ren Kuro's lips lifted into an unreadable smile.
His figure seemed to vanish for a moment—yet somehow remained where it stood.
The dark green slash passed straight through him.
"What?!"
"No way!"
"Is Death immortal? He just took Mihawk's attack head-on and didn't fall!"
"Idiot, can't you see? That was just an afterimage!"
Everyone was left staring in shock. None of them could see Ren Kuro's actual movement, nor understand how that illusion had formed.
In truth, it was a residual image created by an extreme burst of Flash Step, followed by a chain of tiny repositioning movements. To outside observers, it looked almost like a clone.
Thanks to the Flash Step he had inherited from Yoruichi Shihōin, Ren Kuro could pull it off with ease.
"That speed…"
Mihawk's pupils contracted sharply.
Ren Kuro appeared not to have moved at all, yet Mihawk had clearly seen more than one phantom image appear in that instant.
"So that's your confidence—speed so fast the naked eye can't even follow it?"
Mihawk's brow furrowed more deeply. But if mere speed were enough to make him retreat, that would be nothing less than disgrace.
Only a stronger blade could force a swordsman back.
Other than that—
it was death before retreat.
"Death, if you think extreme speed alone is enough to make me back down, then you really do have a laughable understanding of what a swordsman is!" Mihawk leveled Yoru toward Ren Kuro, his black coat stirring without wind.
At that moment, the people nearby suddenly felt a crushing sharpness descend upon them. It was as if the air itself had become a field of blades. Under that invisible pressure, even raising a hand became difficult.
Mihawk was truly angry now.
"It seems you still haven't grasped the difference between us," Ren Kuro said calmly. "In that case, I'll show you with reality."
He slowly raised one arm.
In an instant, an overwhelming aura exploded from his body. It spiraled around his shoulders and back like a violent storm, crackling with a shrill roar like a brewing thundercloud.
His presence rose higher and higher, until it completely swallowed the entire square.
"Oh my… so the captain still has no intention of drawing his Zanpakutō. Mihawk's probably feeling pretty miserable right now," Gin Ichimaru said with a smile, giving Mihawk a look almost tinged with pity.
"Yoruichi. He really is going to use your technique against Mihawk," Byakuya said flatly. In truth, he had already guessed what Ren Kuro was planning.
"That's right," Yoruichi said with a light laugh. "Shunkō really can stop his slashes barehanded."
Yoruichi's smile deepened as she explained:
"The essence of Shunkō is compressed Kidō wrapped around the shoulders and back. Once it detonates, that power floods into the limbs and fuses with hand-to-hand combat."
In other words, Shunkō was a battle art that merged Kidō and Hakuda. Its user wrapped the back and shoulders in highly condensed Kidō, then used the explosive force to fuse that power into their arms and legs, turning their body itself into a weapon.
Ren Kuro now stood like a god of thunder, his entire body wreathed in violent golden spiritual pressure.
A low, thunderous rumble echoed out.
He held his hands level, his eyes cold and detached, black robe fluttering wildly in the storm of power around him.
Above them, the sky itself began to twist and change under his Reiatsu.
"What… is this power?!"
Mihawk involuntarily lifted his head. The violently churning clouds above looked like a prelude to apocalypse itself. For the first time, a powerful sense of danger surfaced from the depths of his heart.
Too strong.
So this was Ren Kuro's true posture at full power.
As that crushing pressure rolled toward him, even Mihawk's belief wavered for an instant. Though he held Yoru firmly in front of him, breathing had already become difficult.
As for the surrounding bystanders, they had long since been blown away by the storm created by Shunkō. Aside from Mihawk, who was still forcing himself to remain standing, only the members of the Shinigami Pirates were unaffected.
As time passed, the air itself grew heavy and distorted.
Lightning wrapped around Ren Kuro's body.
A horn-like crest of thunder appeared above his head.
On his back formed the signature six-drum magatama of the Thunder God.
Shunkō — Raijin Senkei!
"Hawk-Eye," Ren Kuro said calmly, raising one hand. "Now you should understand the gap between us."
The ground beneath him split apart under the mere aftershock of his power.
Every movement, every gesture, carried enough force to destroy the island.
"Death… don't look down on me!"
Enduring that suffocating pressure, Mihawk stubbornly raised his black blade once more.
The pride of a swordsman screamed within him—
even in death, he would never retreat.
"I'll end this duel with a single slash!"
Mihawk roared with all his strength, pouring everything he had into the attack that was about to follow.
"Yoru Sword Art — Ichidan Slash!"
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