Chapter 377 - 376: Strength of Iron
This square was immense, so vast that its boundaries seemed to vanish into shadow. The pale white stone beneath their feet stretched on like a battlefield purpose-built for confrontation, its cold surface marked by faint scars of ancient clashes. The sheer size of the plaza was no accident—Ulquiorra and the others had chosen this very place for its ability to contain devastation. They did not care for the survival of the lesser hollow scattered beyond the Las Noches’ walls. Their priority was here, at the heart, where the true guests—uninvited though they were—had intruded.
In a single breath, the five quincy masters and the five warriors of Las Noches stood face to face, the atmosphere taut and heavy, like a storm held just at bay. Their eyes locked, their reiatsu surged, and without needing a word, all ten combatants moved apart in perfect instinct. They spread across the plaza, ensuring their clashes would not interfere with one another, as though fate itself had choreographed the symmetry.
The ordinary quincy soldiers who had marched alongside the five Sternritter halted at the edge. Their discipline was remarkable; though bloodlust was thick in the air, they obeyed the command to hold position. Their boots clicked into rigid lines, hands tightening on their bows, but not a single arrow was loosed. Their restraint was not born of cowardice, but of iron obedience. This was a battle reserved for kings and generals, not for pawns.
Far above, within the main hall of Las Noches, the scene did not go unnoticed. Behind the smooth veil of surveillance screens, Mazuru watched intently. Around him, Kenpachi Azashiro stood with restless hunger in his one visible eye, and Ichimaru Gin wore his eternal, mocking smile. The grand palace itself seemed to hum faintly, as if resonating with the pressure of the titans gathered below.
But soon, the spectators’ focus narrowed. Their attention locked on the first clash—the one that would test resolve and flesh alike.
It was Cangdu who made the first move.
The quincy warrior’s steel claws gleamed under the dim sky, an unnatural shimmer born not of iron, but of condensed spirit particles shaped into death. With a single sweep, the claws tore forward, rending the air itself. Though different in appearance, this technique bore the same destructive essence as a quincy’s traditional spirit arrow: pure reishi molded into lethal form.
Grimmjow’s lips twisted into a snarl. The Panther King did not hesitate. His instincts were sharp, honed by countless battles and near-deaths. With a ringing Sonido, his form blurred, avoiding the swipe, and in the same motion his hand shot upward. Energy swirled at his palm, blood-red light condensed, and a savage Cero lanced across the square toward Cangdu.
The blast was merciless.
Grimmjow had learned from his battle against Kurosaki Ichigo long ago—recklessness without awareness was nothing but a death sentence. And though he sneered at these intruders, he was not so arrogant as to underestimate them. He knew the whispers about the quincy. He knew their ability to erase hollow entirely, body and soul, leaving not even a particle behind. He had no intention of being reduced to nothing. Not yet. Not while his hunger for battle still clawed at his bones.
Cangdu stood his ground.
"What a brutal attack." the quincy muttered coldly, his voice lacking either admiration or fear. He did not flinch. He did not raise his arms to shield himself. He did not even bother with evasive maneuvers.