Bleach: Watch Closely, This Is How You Use a Zanpakutō-Chapter 219: Demon

Tsunayashiro Clan.

Tokinada Tsunayashiro stood in the attic.

The moment the guards lunged at him, he sprinted forward with all his strength, his gaze locked ahead.

The entire attic's guards were reflected in his pupils. From this perspective, it was as if every single one of them saw him as their final enemy, each one desperate to cut him down with their blades.

It felt as though the entire world stood against him—filled with nothing but malice.

In an instant, he assessed the situation. These crazed guards had lost all reason, consumed by the torment of life and death. Every one of them was blinded by bloodlust, desperate to tear each other apart.

A twisted smile slowly crept across his lips.

His own malice could no longer be contained.

It was time to kill.

This was a feast—a long-awaited indulgence after his release from house arrest.

During his confinement, trapped within the clan's territory, he had passed the time by torturing and slaughtering the servants he had regular contact with. But that had grown tiresome long ago.

Now, at last, he was free. And soon, no one would ever be able to restrain him again.

For the first time in years, he truly felt alive.

The last time he had been let out was over thirty years ago. Back then, his opponent had been none other than the esteemed head of the Shihōin Clan.

He had wanted nothing more than to sever that noble head from its shoulders.

At the time, the gap in their strength had been enough for him to do just that.

But those cowardly elders of the clan—constantly second-guessing, always looking over their shoulders—had forbidden it.

This time, however, no one could stop him.

Those old fools—too corrupt to be truly wicked—were finally going to die.

If he played his cards right, he would soon take his rightful place as head of the clan.

And the only ones standing in his way were the remaining heirs and the elders.

The heirs were nearly wiped out. Now, it was time for the old men to fall.

The position of head of the Tsunayashiro Clan—one of the Five Great Noble Houses—was finally within reach, his for the taking.

...

Tokinada vanished from sight, moving at a speed far beyond that of an ordinary captain-level Shinigami. Wielding his razor-sharp blade and overwhelming Reiatsu, he carved through the battlefield as if it were his own personal slaughterhouse.

Enrakyōten pierced and slashed through one guard after another, dismembering them with effortless precision. Severed limbs scattered through the air.

The wounds left on their bodies were smooth, yet their corpses lay in a grotesque, chaotic heap.

There was no question—this was a massacre.

Moving like a phantom, Tokinada's body twisted and leaped, hands and feet working in tandem as he scaled the inner edge of the attic's open framework. Like a gecko clinging to a wall, he ascended with unnatural ease.

The guards stationed on the top floor didn't flinch at his sudden appearance. Not a trace of panic crossed their faces, as if such gravity-defying feats were an everyday occurrence to them.

Their grips tightened around their sharp Zanpakutōs, while some of the death dealers swiftly drew additional weapons—short blades, chains, and other armaments—readying themselves for battle.

Tokinada scanned the room, but his eyes barely registered them. He wasn't interested in the guards. He was searching for the elders—the ones cowering in fear.

To him, these so-called warriors—eagerly sharpening their blades—were nothing more than irrelevant obstacles. They weren't even worthy of his attention.

They were mere debris along the long path to power, serving only to make the journey a little more comfortable.

Like a child crouching beside an anthill, watching the tiny creatures scurry about in their endless struggle for survival, Tokinada saw no value in them.

A child might idly poke the ants with a stick or drown them with a splash of water, bringing utter devastation upon them, only to laugh in amusement—never once considering the fate of a single insect.

And as he walked this path, he, too, only wanted to laugh.

...

The blood surged through his veins as he arrived, and blazing flames erupted along the gleaming blade of his Zanpakutō.

The guards did not retreat. Their senses had dulled, and even as their bodies ignited, it was as if the flames had nothing to do with them.

The elders fell.

A pair of pitch-black pupils gazed at them coldly.

It was a gaze from above, overlooking them with an oppressive aura so overwhelming that it felt as though an invisible hand was crushing their hearts—daring to meet his eyes directly would surely shatter them.

The elders, who had struggled to accept the truth, suddenly froze in terror. Their mouths opened, perhaps to wail, but no sound escaped. A thick, white, viscous Reiatsu had clogged their throats, silencing them.

Hollow power crushed the last shreds of their reason, erasing their fear. The white Reiatsu formed grotesque masks across their faces, and the once-proud elders rose again—not as themselves, but as monstrous, white-faced Hollows.

A relentless assault erupted from all directions, surging like an unstoppable tide.

Masatsuki Aozaki remained still, unwavering.

The Hollows had barely begun their charge when they abruptly turned on one another, tearing into their fellow abominations with savage fury.

Even Hollowfication could not escape the illusions of Kyōka Suigetsu.

Masatsuki Aozaki watched in silence for a moment. Then, in the narrow chamber, a searing heat exploded outward.

In an instant, the temperature soared by thousands of degrees.

The overwhelming heat vaporized the blood that had soaked the surroundings.

Centered around Masatsuki Aozaki, a ten-meter-wide sphere of fire rapidly expanded, engulfing the entire council chamber.

The elders never had a chance to scream. The inferno consumed them in a flash, reducing their bodies to nothing—mere specks of dust carried away on the wind.

Just moments ago, the room had been full of life. Now, it was empty. Flames danced across the scorched ground, and the air reeked of burning flesh.

The raging fire devoured the ancient structure that had long shielded the elders. Even the walls, reinforced through layers of Kidō, could not withstand the sheer intensity of the heat.

Masatsuki Aozaki gripped his smoldering Zanpakutō in one hand and stepped forward, a figure wreathed in flame, like a demon emerging from the depths of Hell.

The once-imposing guards had been reduced to nothing but ash, yet Masatsuki Aozaki remained unchanged, his blade still poised in his grasp.

So then... who remained worthy of facing his sword?

If he were to swing it again—

It would be only for slaughter. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

With every step he took, the corridor behind him erupted in flames, the crackling of burning wood echoing through the air.

The ancient building groaned under the strain, its very foundation trembling. Faint creaks rang out—ominous, foreboding—as if the structure itself was moments from collapse, like a towering giant finally brought to its knees.

But in Masatsuki Aozaki's eyes, there was no sign of the lives he had erased—only the bloodstained, death-laden corridor stretching before him.

The surviving guards stood frozen, their expressions vacant, their minds lost.

There was no one before them.

Yet death itself was drawing near.

...

(40 Chapters Ahead)

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