Chapter Fifty-Four: Shadows

“Mohammed Dijedara.”
Yhwach spoke the name of the man who invaded the Seireitei alone to Shigekuni Yamamoto.
“He is the only Quincy among all of us whom I cannot be completely certain I can command.”
“In fact, the fact that he joined the Silver Cross Knights and serves under me has far exceeded my expectations, because…”
A cold, distant smile suddenly appeared on Yhwach’s face. “I’ve never once defeated him in battle.”
“!!!”
Shigekuni Yamamoto’s expression changed drastically.
What kind of power does Yhwach possess? There was hardly any point in discussing it.
To lead the Quincies, invade the Soul Society—his strength and dominion were self-evident.
Yet even such a man admitted he could not subjugate Mohammed.
Just how terrifying was this Mohammed?
Moreover, if it were merely a question of strength, though Yhwach’s power was monstrous, if Yamamoto were to reveal his true strength, it wasn’t as though he could not defeat Yhwach. But Mohammed possessed the power to defeat Yhwach as well, which meant…
Nagajiro—
“Are you worried about your vice-captain?”
“!”
Yhwach pointedly and keenly pierced Yamamoto’s inner thoughts.
“You truly cannot rise to my height, Shigekuni Yamamoto.”
“When will you be able to cast aside those repulsive emotions?”
The leader of the Quincies reached for his waist, slowly drawing the blade at his side.
“Die for me.”
“……”
………………………………………
“……”
“……”
“……”
“……”
“Hey? I say, you, at least make a sound!”
Unable to bear the silence between himself and Nagajiro any longer, Mohammed finally complained loudly.
“A sound…”
Of course, as the host, Nagajiro was not stingy with his voice.
“NICE~~~~ retort!”
Mohammed gave Nagajiro a thumbs up.
“Retort your sister! Wait—are you really someone from this era? How do you know such an advanced word as ‘retort’?”
“Well, trivial matters like that aren’t worth fussing over.”
Mohammed calmly pushed his sunglasses up.

“Nonsense!”
“Swish.”
“!”
Suddenly, Nagajiro felt a chill sweep across his face. He instinctively turned his head, and a faint pain throbbed on the left side of his face.
“Drip…”
A bright thread of blood ran down Nagajiro’s cheek.
“Not bad response—I thought that strike would pierce your skull.”
Mohammed, still in the posture of having thrown something, grinned.
“No wonder you’re Yamamoto’s shadow. You really do have the strength to face me.”
“Boom!”
“!!”
Hearing the explosion behind him, Nagajiro turned in shock.
“Wh—”
His pupils contracted at the sight before him.
That mysterious object Mohammed had thrown pierced the wall behind Nagajiro and exploded in the distance, destroying entire buildings. As for the Shinigami in that area, just from the spiritual pressure, Nagajiro could clearly sense that dozens, perhaps even a hundred, Shinigami had vanished from that region.
“Shadows facing shadows—let us enjoy ourselves.”
Mohammed spread his palm wide, aiming at Nagajiro and the Shinigami behind him, peering through his fingers at the enemies arrayed before him.
“Let the show begin!”
“!!”
Sensing danger in an instant, Nagajiro swiftly drew his Zanpakuto and shouted to the Shinigami behind him, “Retreat, quickly!”
But Mohammed soon made Nagajiro realize that speed of sound and reflexes were nothing but a laughable joke.
“Boom!”
No one saw what Mohammed did; he merely stood with his fingers splayed, unmoving, yet in an instant the squad of Shinigami behind Nagajiro was blasted into a field of severed limbs and blood.
A few survived by sheer luck, but their spirits were crushed by the attack—they dropped their swords, slumped to the ground, unable even to stand.
“First, clear out irrelevant personnel.”
“You bastard…”
Nagajiro tightened his grip on his sword, releasing its initial form in a flash, and drew his rapier.
“Now, the main act.”
Mohammed stepped forward, tossed aside his white cloak to reveal a black uniform underneath, and struck a pose he considered dashing at Nagajiro.
“I am Mohammed Dijedara. Pleased to meet you, Shinigami.”
“You fiend…”
After slaughtering so many of his comrades, he could still speak so lightly—how little did he regard Nagajiro, Seireitei, the entire Soul Society!
Nagajiro clenched his sword, lightning flickering across its blade.
“Heh…”
Mohammed laughed, once more spreading his fingers.

“!”
“Boom!”
This time, Nagajiro was even more alert to Mohammed’s movements, so he dodged the attack with shunpo, but the buildings behind him were ravaged again. Still, Nagajiro couldn’t see what Mohammed had used.
“Are you puzzled?”
Mohammed suddenly spoke.
“Because the speed is so fast, you wonder what it is I use?”
“Well, what a tasteless question, Shinigami.”
Shrugging helplessly, Mohammed smiled.
“I am a Quincy—I use a bow and arrow, of course.”
“No helping it—let me show you.”
“Whish!”
“!!!”
“Bang!”
With deliberate slowness, Mohammed let Nagajiro barely glimpse his bow and arrow and block the attack with his sword just in time. But Nagajiro underestimated Mohammed’s power.
The spirit arrow struck his blade with tremendous force, bending it to the limit, and Nagajiro was sent flying, crashing into the rubble.
“Urgh…”
Nagajiro struggled to push off the stones and stood up from the ruins.
“What power… damn…”
Of all the battles Nagajiro had faced, only Yamamoto could match this Mohammed, and even Ryisu from a century ago would have been annihilated.
“Whoa, you survived that force? I guess I can’t underestimate you.”
Mohammed spread his fingers again, but no trace of spirit particles emanated from his hand, making it impossible for Nagajiro to predict when the next arrow would be fired.
“Tch… Don’t think you’re the only one who can shoot arrows!”
Suddenly, Nagajiro pointed his blade at Mohammed, the lightning converging at its tip and forming a bolt that shot swiftly toward Mohammed.
“Hmph…”
“Bang!”
Mohammed shifted his palm slightly, blocking the lightning arrow with ease.
“Playing this game in front of a Quincy—isn’t that a bit provocative?”
Mohammed wasn’t angry; instead, he grinned leisurely.
Nagajiro raised his mouth in defiance.
“I am provoking you, bastard.”