C3 The Ultimate White Striking

Does alcohol really bolster courage threefold?

Can a swig of wine turn lethal?

Lucia was taken aback.

It was her first time encountering such a notion about drinking.

What shocked her even more was Taku's stealthy ability to swipe the wine from her without detection.

She was a novice Death God, true, but she was confident her powers far surpassed those of anyone who hadn't even set foot in Shinoreijutsuin.

"Haha, kid, you think booze can turn deadly? Too bad, we're all demons here!" Ijiri of the Black Bandits sneered menacingly.

"Today, show me how you plan to drink and slay me!"

With a thunderous bang, Ijiri of the Black Bandits surged forward.

His massive frame moved with surprising agility, bounding seven or eight meters at a time like an ape.

The gusts from his movements made Lucia's face fall; there was no time for incantations or Ghost Dao at such close quarters.

In just a short distance, he was upon her.

Most crucially, Taku, who had pilfered her wine jug, was nonchalantly toying with it, oblivious to the colossal mace Ijiri was about to bring down upon him.

Lucia's mind flashed to Kaien Shiba, who had once sacrificed his life for her.

With that memory, she quelled her irritation at Taku, the unwitting drunkard.

She stepped forward, pushing her Flash Steps to the extreme.

Bang!

A muffled crash echoed as Lucia intercepted, shielding Taku.

Her hands gripped the Soul-Cutter Sword, which she thrust defiantly in front of the oncoming mace.

The collision sent shockwaves through her body, as if she'd been struck head-on by a charging rhinoceros, her blood roiling within her.

Her slender frame staggered back seven or eight paces before she managed to steady herself.

A sharp pain shot through her wrist, and the sight of her own blood turning crimson shifted her expression.

The mutated Ijiri of the Black Bandits possessed overwhelming strength.

The force of his strike was akin to the weight of a thousand pounds.

Even a Reaper adept at harnessing their inner power would find this feat difficult to achieve.

"Haha, I never expected you, a mere girl, to withstand my casual blow. But let me remind you, that was only half of my strength," Ijiri of the Black Bandits roared with laughter once more.

His right hand, gripping the massive club, swelled in an instant, like a balloon inflating.

The protruding veins gave his arm the appearance of a coiled dragon, brimming with explosive power.

Lucia's face paled at the sight of his arm, now significantly thicker.

The previous strike had already damaged her palms.

Another hit like that, and her hands would surely be ripped apart, rendered completely useless!

Escape!

That was the singular principle coldly drilled into her by Shigure Ooike during her training as a novice Reaper.

The weak are nothing but a hindrance.

She had no place on the battlefield, nor the right to be there.

It was for this very reason that Lucia had been relegated to the weakest purification squad, tasked with menial soul-cleansing duties.

"Ah, this is truly fine liquor, with a rich and spicy flavor. To drink is to sing, and what is life but a fleeting moment? Now I understand the saying: life is like wine," came a voice, disjointed and ill-timed.

Lucia's mind went blank.

No, it was more than that—she was on the verge of madness!

Who would have imagined, in such a life-or-death moment...

You're fighting for your life while someone else is casually sipping wine on the sidelines.

Is that even human?

No!

Is that even a ghost?

Confronted with this unforeseen spectacle, Lucia bit back her rage and cried out in desperation.

"Shiba Taku, why aren't you fleeing? Why are you still here drinking? On the battlefield, the slightest error can be a burden to others, leading to irreversible consequences!"

The words spilled from her lips, words she knew all too well—words from her older brother, Shiba Taku, after the death of Kaien Shiba.

Ever since, those words haunted her like a curse, preventing her from confronting the true battlefield.

Was it my lack of strength that led to his death, and now mine as well?

A ludicrous thought crossed Lucia's mind.

"Taku, did you promise me some peanuts to go with my wine? The more you drink with peanuts, the more you want—it's a thoughtful touch." Taku, having downed a bottle, was already staggering.

Unbeknownst to him, Lucia had awakened with a scowl etched on her face.

A cascade of ethereal system notifications echoed in his mind.

"Ding! Congratulations, host, for savoring fine wine for the first time. You've achieved the ultimate White Hit!"

In the realm of the Shinigami, skills were categorized into four techniques: Slash, Punch, Step, and Ghost, each with levels of mastery: basic, proficient, excellent, and ultimate.

The White Hit signified the hand-to-hand combat prowess of a Shinigami.

Had Taku not been inebriated, the revelation of the White Hit information would have thrilled him.

While the ultimate White Hit might not rival the Ghost Dao, Flash Steps, or the Soul-Cutter Sword, reaching the pinnacle of this technique could elevate one to the stature of Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni.

With such power, one could annihilate an Achyukas with a single punch—an entity second only to the Ten Blades, an evolved form of the Gillian-class Hollows, and among the elite in Hueco Mundo.

Indeed, to obliterate an Achyukas with one punch would epitomize the zenith of strength.

"You insolent whelp, daring to scorn me, babbling in your drunken stupor. Today, I'll slay you first, then that woman!"

Ijiri of the Black Bandits bellowed with fury.

In bygone days, his demonic presence struck fear into all.

Even Lucia, a Shinigami herself, was once sent flying by his blow, a gratifying boost to his former Hollow ego.

Yet now, his might, unmatched even by Shinigami, was blatantly disregarded—a disgrace to Ijiri.

"The boss is spot on; this frail noble doesn't stand a chance against you."

"Let's deal with this arrogant noble first, then we'll torment the female Shinigami right before his eyes. Let's see if he remains inebriated then!"

"…"

The malevolent spirits encircled them, their eyes filled with menace.

Lucia's face turned grim.

Though a Shinigami, she could not bear the thought of being at the mercy of these vile ghosts.

This pain was worse than death itself.

Yet, facing off against Ijiri of the Black Bandits, whose arms had grown noticeably thicker, Lucia stood little chance of victory.

The thought alone made her involuntarily retreat a half-step.

The words of Kuchiki Byakuya echoed once again in her mind.

"The most important task for a liability is to master the art of escape..."