With a roar, Madarame Ikkaku's Zanpakutō and sheath erupted in a flash of dazzling white light.

Though only the Third Seat of the Eleventh Division, his raw power rivaled—if not surpassed—that of many Liutenants.

Wild spiritual pressure surged through his weapon as it transformed. Blade and sheath fused into one, forming a long wooden spear gripped tightly in his hands.

Ikkaku spread his arms wide, grasping Hōzukimaru with all his might, the spearhead angled downward.

But across from him, Shimo remained calm. Not a flicker of panic showed on his face—if anything, he looked slightly amused.

To be honest, Ikkaku's Shikai was probably one of the most awkward Shikai forms Shimo had ever seen.

Sure, the long wooden spear gave Ikkaku a bit more variety in combat…

But in terms of durability, it was actually inferior to a standard Zanpakutō.

Shimo faintly remembered that Ikkaku's Hōzukimaru had snapped more than once in the past—its fragility was infamous and often weakened its effectiveness.

Then again, that had much to do with Ikkaku's reckless fighting style.

After all, being a brute was practically the Eleventh Division's trademark—from the Captain down to the newest recruits.

"Alright, Hōzukimaru—let's go!"

Ikkaku grinned with excitement, his blood surging at the thrill of finally facing a worthy opponent.

He lunged with the spear pointed down, spinning upward mid-strike toward Shimo's head.

The force of the attack splitted the air itself.

Shimo didn't move. With his left hand, he swung the sheathed Zanpakutō sideways, smacking the spearhead away.

Swish! Swish!

Ikkaku's spear danced like a dragon, slicing through the air with a vicious whistle.

His explosive spiritual pressure caused cracks and chips to form across the stone dueling platform.

To the spectators below, the duel was heating up rapidly.

"Go, Ikkaku-san!"

"Third Seat! Crush that Fourth Division brat!"

"Wait… that guy hasn't even drawn his Zanpakutō yet. Ikkaku-san might be in danger…"

The Eleventh Division held Ikkaku in high esteem, but they weren't blind to the fight unfolding before them.

Sweat beaded down Ikkaku's shiny forehead, and his previously surging spiritual pressure was beginning to wane slightly.

Meanwhile, Shimo still stood with not even a crease in his uniform out of place. Using only his left hand and a scabbard, he was matching Ikkaku blow for blow.

Even just defending, Shimo exerted pressure Ikkaku hadn't felt in years.

Gritting his teeth, Ikkaku's expression contorted.

It had been a long time since he'd encountered someone like this.

The last time had been Zaraki Kenpachi in the Rukongai.

But how?!

How could someone from the Fourth Division be this strong?!

"Damn it!"

Ikkaku raised Hōzukimaru high. Veins bulged across his arms, muscles surging like coiled serpents.

"Zanjutsu: Hōzukimaru no Mai! (Dance of Hōzukimaru!)"

In an instant, his spear began to spin in his grip, stirring up a ferocious cyclone across the platform.

His spiritual pressure howled, rising higher and higher until it peaked in a single, overwhelming strike!

Bending his knees, Ikkaku exploded upward into the air.

With both hands, he brought the full weight of Hōzukimaru crashing down upon Shimo!

BOOM—!!

The sheer force of the impact released a shockwave across the dueling ground. Smoke and dust surged like a tidal wave, obscuring everything from view.

This was Ikkaku's strongest attack—the full force of his current strength.

He hadn't yet learned Bankai, but this move was his absolute limit.

As the smoke cleared, he finally saw what lay before him…

And his vicious grin froze on his face.

"What… the hell…?"

The sight stunned him to the core.

Shimo had unsheathed his Zanpakutō only slightly.

Just one sliver of cold silver peeked out—and that sliver of steel was now pressing against the shaft of Hōzukimaru, completely halting the mighty strike.

The wooden spear bent deeply, nearly touching the ground from the pressure.

A blow containing Ikkaku's full strength—utterly useless.

He felt his worldview crumble in that instant.

"You done?"

Shimo's lips curled slightly into a smirk. Then, with a whisper of steel, he slid his Zanpakutō back into its sheath.

Before Ikkaku could respond, he heard Shimo's quiet voice again:

"Then take this."

"Let's see if you can handle this big boy…"

Limitless Sword: Swallow Return.

A sudden tsunami of spiritual pressure surged from the dueling platform, crashing toward Ikkaku with overwhelming force.

The oppressive might pressed directly down on him, choking the air from his lungs.

For a split second, genuine fear flickered through Ikkaku's narrow eyes.

A cold glint of steel danced from Shimo's hand—a flash of radiance that lit up the entire arena.

"The match is over."

Shimo passed Ikkaku in silence, their backs now facing one another.

"Now then…"

"It's time for that apology."

Cold sweat rolled slowly down Ikkaku's gleaming forehead.

He didn't move.

He couldn't.

A thin red line had appeared on his neck.

From just one swing, Shimo had nicked his throat—a precise cut that could have been fatal had he chosen to deepen it.

Ikkaku understood without a word.

He had been—completely crushed.

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