Chapter Thirty-Five: The Sacred Chant
Whoosh...
Black flames burned quietly upon the sword, showing no sign of extinguishing.
Credo stared at the fire in silence.
"Give up," Di Chun said softly, lifting his head without a trace of arrogance. Perhaps, for him, only in battle could he truly let go of everything.
!
"That flame—even I can't put it out. You'd better think about how you want to fight me. If you're distracted..."
He assumed a battle stance, his ferocious grin betraying his hunger for combat as he faced Credo.
"You might die a very ugly death."
Swish.
Credo moved his empty left hand ever so slightly, making no extraneous motion, and suddenly, another sword appeared in his grip.
"Oh? Dual blades?" Di Chun raised an eyebrow. Even he hadn't seen when Credo produced the second sword, nor did he know where it had been hidden.
"Quincies do not wield anything but bows," Credo replied, frowning at Di Chun's remark about his dual swords, clearly displeased.
"Is that so?"
Without another word or denial, Di Chun charged forward!
Compared to these trivialities, what he truly desired was to revel in the fight!
Bow? Sword? What did it matter?
As long as he could battle, that was enough!
Clang!
Credo raised his sword, still wreathed in black fire, and swiftly dispelled its spiritual pressure, blocking Di Chun’s thunderous blow with what now seemed an ordinary longsword.
Swish!
On his other sword, a spirit arrow was already formed and aimed.
Crack!
!
In a flash, Di Chun’s free hand shot out and gripped the cross-shaped spiritual bow tight.
Hiss...
The heat generated by the intensely compressed spirit particles was no joke. In an instant, his already wounded hand was severely burned anew.
...
Knowing he was no match for his opponent in raw strength, Credo planted his foot and, using the unique Quincy footwork, disengaged from close quarters.
"That’s not flash step… what do you call it?"
"Feilian Step."
"Nice name... Oh, it already feels better," Di Chun flexed his fingers—the burn seemed less painful now.
!
Only then did Credo notice that the wound, which had been leaking spiritual pressure, had somehow ceased to do so.
Impossible… The power granted by His Majesty…
It was supposed to be a wound that could never heal. The injured would bleed spiritual pressure until they were utterly drained and finally defeated.
"Why are you spacing out?"
!
Di Chun’s words snapped Credo out of his turmoil, returning his focus to the field.
Di Chun waved his injured left hand at Credo, the glaring burns on his palm stabbing into Credo’s eyes.
That…
Using the burn’s heat to forcibly close the wound… Such a method actually existed…
This man...
For the first time, Credo felt lost, even faintly afraid.
“All right, let’s continue.”
“Tch...”
Credo failed to notice that, gripped by a trace of fear, his hand was trembling, his sword unconsciously raised to attack Di Chun.
Heh...
Grinning wickedly, Di Chun lifted his blade and drew a wall of black fire before him, blocking all of Credo’s attacks.
Spirit arrows rained frantically against the black flame, but the fire devoured them greedily, savoring every morsel.
A Quincy captain possessed formidable power, rivaling even a division captain. And the abilities bestowed by His Majesty were only the tip of the iceberg.
But why…
Why, with captain-level strength as well, why...
Why am I unable to match him—
“You’re distracted.”
!!!
Lost in confusion, Credo was caught off guard as Di Chun broke through the barrage of arrows and appeared before him.
Slash!
Crack!
Delighting in battle, Di Chun would never let such an opportunity slip by. With merciless force, he brought his blade down.
Credo crossed his swords to block the lethal strike, but it was as futile as using paper to stop an arrow of flame; it did nothing to hinder the blow.
The two swords snapped.
Clang… clang…
The broken blades skittered far across the ground, vanishing into the darkness.
Splurt!
Instinctively, Credo used Feilian Step to retreat, but blood spurted from the deep wound, staining his white uniform and the earth beneath him.
Gah... gah... gah...
The injury was grave.
Just one blow, and a captain-level fighter like me is reduced to this…
“You…”
!
“You seem to think that captain-level is truly strong,” Di Chun said, beginning to release his spiritual pressure.
“That’s naïve.”
“Captain-level? That’s just the foundation.”
“This level of strength…”
Di Chun, like a demon, unleashed his spiritual pressure and bloodlust, overwhelming Credo.
“I reached it a hundred years ago.”
!!
“So, what will you do now?”
Di Chun took a step toward Credo.
“Your swords are broken. Your bow as well, I presume?”
“You’ve reached your limit, Quincy.”
“Don’t underestimate me!”
Provoked beyond measure, Credo lost his composure.
And thus, his defeat was sealed.
Snap.
He drew a short, metallic rod from his pocket, Roman numerals engraved upon its length.
“Sanctus Chant!”
“Weep! O blossom born upon the white bones beneath the star of guardianship! Rebirth is your destiny! Withering is your fate! Reveal yourself!”
“‘Canticle of the Holy Court!’”
Crackling, ten white pillars of light erupted from the ground, encircling both Credo and Di Chun.
What is this…
He had never seen anything like it—neither Kidō nor Bakudō.
The spiritual pressure was wholly different.
A unique Quincy technique?
“This is one of the many formations His Majesty entrusted to us,” Credo declared, eyes burning with anger, fanaticism, and bloodlust.
He had become someone else entirely.
“Within this formation, only a Quincy stands invincible! Here you shall face your end, Soul Reaper!”