Omniverse: The Martial Artist

Hao stood barefoot on the battered tatami mats, blood streaming down his body like a living sculpture painted in red.

Unohana's mastery of the blade was clearly far above his. After just a dozen minutes of fierce combat, over half of his life force had already been depleted.

His entire body was covered in sword wounds—some so deep they had carved into muscle.

He stepped forward slowly, walking toward Unohana, who stood by the far wall of the room. It felt as if he were climbing a steep, icy peak—its summit was her overwhelming swordsmanship, while the snowflakes falling on him were the piercing intent to kill.

Was this the end?

Was he really going to die here?

It felt too soon. He had never fought like this before—so freely, so wildly. And it was already about to end?

No.

He hadn't had enough yet. He refused to stop climbing.

His path as a warrior was only just beginning.

Hao glanced at the asauchi in his hand. Aizen once said that he had been resisting the power inside. Even now, Hao wasn't certain if that was true.

But after so many trips into that purgatory… after trying so many times to communicate with that demonic figure in the shadows… he had started to understand.

Why ask its name?

Wasn't it his Zanpakutō?

Shouldn't he be the one to name it?

Yes.

---

The atmosphere shifted.

Unohana had been preparing for a final clash, but she halted mid-step—because Hao's presence had changed.

Sunset light filtered through the paper doors, sliced open during the fight, casting a golden glow across Hao's back. Blood trickled down his corded muscles, as if a ghost-mask were weeping crimson tears.

The blood dripped at his feet, pooling on the tatami in dark purple stains that looked like fragments of a dream.

From Unohana's perspective, Hao stood before a massive wall painting, bathed in sunset light. Above his shoulder, in the mural, was the fierce gaze of a tiger.

The man opened his mouth. His deep voice knocked on the gates of her heart—and flung wide open the gates of purgatory.

"Shatter your chains, Shuma (Demonbound)."

As the words fell, blackish-purple mist rose from Hao's body, drifting diagonally in the breeze. For a moment, it seemed as if the painted tiger had come alive—its eyes now filled with spirit.

Its powerful limbs tensed for a strike, poised to pounce on the monstrous demon in the artwork. Purple-black flames lit up its eyes—the same flames that burned in the soul of the man standing beneath it.

ROAR—

The blast of spiritual pressure was like a tiger's roar, like a dragon's cry—as though a god-demon locked away for endless lifetimes had begun to sing and scream in fury!

Hao stood firm, holding a reborn Zanpakutō in his hand.

The pitch-black blade had a hollow blood groove down the center, coiled in purple-black, vine-like runes. The pattern extended down the hilt, where it became a chain—wrapped tightly around Hao's arm.

Shrouded in black-purple mist, stained with blood, he looked like a warrior from the depths of hell.

Hao exhaled deeply—like he was shedding an old skin. His spiritual pressure surged again, reaching Unohana's level, though he could still feel the weight of suppression on him.

Which meant… he could go even higher.

All of his combat stats had increased by one point. His previously lowest attribute—strength—had even risen by two!

Not only that, his senses had sharpened, his reflexes had improved dramatically.

And the Demonbound in his hand was no mere asauchi—it was on a completely different level in terms of sharpness and lethality.

Unohana looked at the newly released Hao, lips curling into a smile filled with danger.

"So, this is your Shikai, Hao-kun… Looks like you really do know how to please me."

She held her Minazuki in hand but did not release it. Her Zanpakutō was a living-type spirit—upon Shikai, it transformed into a massive, flat, single-eyed creature like a stingray. In this fight, that form would only hinder her. Worse—it would take away from her enjoyment of this glorious duel.

"Final exams, huh…"

Hao shifted to a two-handed grip on his blade, lowering his stance. In his purple-black eyes, fighting spirit surged.

"...Time to hand in my final exam, sensei."

As his words fell, the tatami exploded backward, lifted by a wave of force. The air surged as the dark mist trailed behind him like a stream of flame, forming a line that cut across the giant mural behind them.

Minazuki and Demonbound clashed, sparks scattering like iron flowers in the night.

In an instant, they had exchanged dozens of strikes. In Unohana's eyes gleamed both killing intent and delight.

Yes—this is it. Please me more!

Demonbound came slashing down from above, and Unohana caught it with one hand gripping her sword and the other braced against the back of the blade.

To her surprise, Hao didn't fall back to disperse the force—instead, he pushed harder, using the immense rebound to propel himself upward.

He launched like a bullet toward the ceiling, flipped in midair, and positioned himself upside down. His legs flexed with coiled power, muscles tense like the tiger in the mural. His bare toes gripped the ceiling like claws.

In the next instant, he shot downward like a cannonball, his black blade wreathed in violet mist, aiming straight for her skull.

CLANG—

Unohana blocked the strike but was forced to crouch under the weight of it, retreating several steps before absorbing the impact. Her centuries of battle instinct kicked in as she twisted out of the way of Hao's next slash.

They both sped up again. Blades and blood danced together, painting a scene of violence and carnage across the drifting mist.

The floor, the walls, even the ceiling became their battlefield. Their combat had transcended dimensions—no longer bound to a single plane.

Amidst the sparks from clashing Zanpakutō, madness met madness in their gazes. Killing intent tangled with battle lust.

After another explosive collision, both fighters leapt backward under the force and landed—feet pressed firmly against the vertical walls.

BOOM—

With a deafening crash, the wall behind Hao shattered. His rapid lunge turned him into a streak of purple-black light.

Unohana's lunge made no sound—but it radiated a chilling aura, turning her into a petal-white phantom of death.

They met midair—then passed by one another.

Blood painted an arc across the mural like a stroke of crimson ink, splattering the demon in the painting. The red flowed from her chest, trailing downward like an eerie rain.

Hao spun around, catching sight of something falling through the air—his arm. His left arm, nearly severed at the root.

He swung his sword in a flourish to shake the blood off, carving an elegant arc on the floor. Then he looked at Unohana, who stood below the demon's painted form.

"Hahaha..."

Unohana, her back to Hao, let out a manic chuckle.

"Hao-kun, interested in joining the Fourth Division?"

Hao raised his remaining hand and used Kaido for emergency treatment, stemming the blood flow from the stump.

He shook his head.

"As tempting as your offer is, Sensei... I want to see the world beyond this first."

"Is that so... What a pity."

She slowly turned around.

A deep gash ran across her chest, from left shoulder to lower abdomen—exactly like how she used to strike Hao during healing practice sessions.

She had lost.

If not for her overwhelming spiritual pressure, that slash would've cleaved her clean through.

In that final moment, Hao had been just a bit faster than her—decisive where she hesitated. The result: he lost an arm, but she took what should've been a fatal blow.

With all her battle experience, she knew very well who the victor was.

That slash had cut her awake.

She could have continued the fight—could have indulged in the slaughter until Hao fell.

But now that she had regained clarity, doing so would not only undermine the integrity of the exam—it would also be like feeding pearls to swine. Wasteful. Senseless.

She gazed at the one-armed man before her. In her eyes flickered a light filled with longing—for what lies ahead.

How I wish… I could fight you again… when we're both at our peak.

°°°

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