He hadn't expected this Shinigami to be so powerful. With just a mere wave of his hand, he could unleash such terrifying attacks. The sheer dominance displayed left his opponents in utter disbelief.
Just as Zangetsu hesitated, contemplating whether he should intervene, Uehara Shiroha struck first.
A massive energy-formed fist erupted from his punch, soaring through the air at an incredible speed. Before Zangetsu could react, the powerful force struck him, sending him flying backward.
Even though he instinctively activated Blut Vene to bolster his defense, it was futile. The impact was beyond comprehension—he had never encountered such raw, overwhelming power before.
With just a single punch and a kick, Uehara Shiroha effortlessly crushed two combatants whose strength rivaled that of thousand-year-old captains. His might was so overwhelming that both Kyōka and Zangetsu were left in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what had just transpired.
Inside the depths of Ichigo Kurosaki's spiritual space, Uehara Shiroha stood with his arms crossed, gazing at the two core manifestations of Ichigo's power. A faint smirk played on his lips as he shook his head.
Ichigo Kurosaki was no ordinary man. He wasn't simply a hybrid of a Fullbringer, a Quincy, a Shinigami, and a Hollow. His power was in a league of its own—an entity of unparalleled strength.
White himself was a Vasto Lorde-class Hollow, a being capable of absorbing Shinigami energy to grow infinitely stronger. Ichigo's Shinigami bloodline stemmed from Isshin Shiba, a former captain of the Gotei 13 and a member of one of Soul Society's five noble families. The Shiba lineage alone carried immense pride and formidable potential.
His Quincy heritage was equally extraordinary. He was the son of Kurosaki Masaki, a pure-blooded Quincy of immense talent. Furthermore, his Quincy abilities were directly influenced by none other than Yhwach himself, making them exceptionally potent.
Each of Ichigo's bloodlines—whether Quincy, Hollow, Fullbringer, or Shinigami—held power at the highest tier. However, despite his monstrous potential, he had yet to fully integrate his abilities, leaving his mental resilience full of gaps—gaps that made him vulnerable to attacks targeting his psyche.
Of course, these vulnerabilities only applied to those who could wield mind-based abilities. In terms of raw strength, speed, and combat potential, Ichigo was still an anomaly. Even if an enemy had the means to attack his mind, few could withstand his overwhelming presence long enough to make a move.
Yet, Ichigo had one fatal flaw—his reluctance to kill. He often held back, giving his opponents a chance to display their abilities, which had led to multiple defeats. The most infamous example? The legendary "Carpet Ichigo" incident.
After effortlessly subduing both Hollow Ichigo and Zangetsu, Uehara Shiroha made no further moves to press his advantage. He didn't intend to merely defeat them—he wanted them to submit entirely, to acknowledge his supremacy.
This wasn't just a battle. This was conquest.
Zangetsu, now back on his feet, looked shaken. His brows furrowed in deep confusion as he struggled to comprehend what he had just witnessed.
"What kind of power is this…?" he muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.
The attack Uehara Shiroha had just unleashed wasn't Kidō. It wasn't derived from a Zanpakutō. It wasn't a Fullbring ability. And it certainly wasn't Quincy energy.
It felt similar to the power of the Soul King, yet something about it was undeniably different. For the first time in ages, Zangetsu found himself unable to analyze his opponent's technique. He had no countermeasures. No strategies.
Just pure uncertainty.
Meanwhile, White had no patience for contemplation. His mind operated on instinct, on raw aggression. He didn't care what kind of strange power his opponent possessed. As long as he could cut him down, that was all that mattered.
"I knew you were unreliable!" White snapped at Zangetsu. Without hesitation, he charged forward at full speed.
His philosophy was simple—if one strike wasn't enough, then he would strike again. And again. And again.
As long as his blade could cut, as long as he could keep swinging, he would eventually win.
The blade gleamed with deadly intent as it slashed through the air, carrying the full force of his hatred and determination.
650 degrees of razor-sharp destruction.
White's attack was monstrous—an ordinary captain wouldn't have been able to dodge it. It was a strike designed to kill.
Yet, Uehara Shiroha didn't move. He didn't dodge, didn't counter, didn't even lift a hand to defend himself.
He simply stood there.
And watched.
His gaze was calm, almost indifferent—like a god looking down upon an insignificant mortal. His golden eyes held no fear, no urgency. There was only pity.
White's blood boiled at that expression.
"You bastard! You dare look down on me?!"
With newfound fury, he unleashed even greater power. The blade in his hands shimmered as his spiritual energy surged to its peak.
The next strike would be unstoppable.
Or so he thought.
The moment his blade should have connected, something impossible happened.
The edge of his sword passed through Uehara Shiroha's body—cleanly, effortlessly. Yet, there was no impact. No resistance.
Not even the fabric of Uehara Shiroha's clothing was disturbed.
White's confident smirk froze in place. His body stiffened, his eyes widened in disbelief.
"What…?"
How could this be? His strike was perfect. How had he missed?
With no time to waste, he immediately swung again. This time, he adjusted his angle, made sure his precision was flawless.
Yet, once again, the blade sliced through thin air—completely bypassing Uehara Shiroha's form as though he weren't even there.
A cold chill ran down White's spine.
"What did you do to me?!" he roared in frustration. His face flushed red with fury and humiliation.
Twice. He had missed twice. And both times, his enemy hadn't even moved.
No—this wasn't a failure on his part. This was something else. This bastard had done something to him.
He gritted his teeth, his hands trembling.
"Damn it… DAMN IT!"
Before he could make another move, Uehara Shiroha effortlessly delivered a devastating punch to his gut, sending him flying backward.
White coughed violently as he crashed into the ground, his body wracked with pain.
Uehara Shiroha exhaled slowly, his expression unchanging.
"I didn't do anything," he said casually. "Don't try to hit me."
He took a step forward, peering down at White with an almost amused look.
"Maybe you're just afraid of me," he continued. "So afraid that, deep down, your instincts are making you miss on purpose."
"Could it be? No way…!"
Zangetsu's expression changed drastically as realization dawned upon him. He narrowed his eyes, analyzing the situation carefully. Without hesitation, he activated his Quincy abilities.
A massive spirit bow and arrow materialized in his right hand, glowing with an ethereal light. The sheer intensity of the energy caused the very air around them to tremble.
This was the true manifestation of a Quincy's spirit weapon.
With practiced precision, he drew the bowstring and released an arrow of pure reishi, its radiant glow illuminating the entire space. A sacred aura filled the air, as if an epic hymn resonated around the massive arrow.
This was no ordinary attack.
The Heilige Pfeil—a Quincy's holy arrow of destruction—was an ability feared even among the strongest of Soul Reapers.
Yet, despite the immense power bearing down upon him, Uehara Shiroha remained completely unfazed. His body did not shift, his stance did not change. It was as if he had no intention of dodging at all.
He did not view Zangetsu and White as true threats.
"My sacred arrow of destruction is not so easy to block," Zangetsu declared, his voice firm.
This arrow was not something an ordinary Soul Reaper could withstand. If it landed, even a seasoned captain would be forced to their knees.
White, still struggling to recover from his earlier defeat, grinned as he watched the Quincy unleash his full power. A sinister and satisfied expression spread across his face.
The Quincy's light arrows had the ability to annihilate the soul itself. Even as a high-level Vasto Lorde, he knew better than to take such an attack head-on. And this guy—this so-called Soul Reaper—would be no exception.
No matter what strange ability Uehara Shiroha possessed, he could not possibly emerge unscathed from this.
And yet…
The arrow missed.
It streaked past Uehara Shiroha's unmoving form, shooting straight into empty space.
White's smirk faltered. His breath hitched.
"No! How can he still be this powerful?!" His shock was evident, his mind scrambling for an explanation. He was moments away from shouting "There's a traitor among us!" out of pure disbelief.
Zangetsu was no less shaken. His expression darkened.
"It's really happening," he muttered under his breath.
This arrow should have landed. There was no reason for it to miss. He had fired with absolute precision. His opponent had not dodged, had not deflected it.
And yet, the attack had veered off-course.
There was only one possible explanation.
Somewhere, deep within himself, he had subconsciously altered his own aim.
Without realizing it, he had chosen to miss.
That realization sent a shiver down Zangetsu's spine.
"What a terrifying ability…!" His eyes narrowed, recalling how their surroundings had shifted earlier. The spiritual space had changed—not just in appearance, but in essence.
They were supposed to have the home advantage in this domain.
And yet, everywhere they turned, Uehara Shiroha was in control.
His earlier assumption had been wrong. Completely wrong.
This wasn't an illusion.
It was something far worse.
It was an absolute, unshakable force—an ability that transcended mere trickery or deception.
An ability… that could only belong to someone on the level of the Soul King himself.
"Could it really be an illusion…?" White's frustration boiled over. "Damn it! It doesn't feel like one, but this is beyond infuriating!"
Despite his growing rage, he forced himself to hold back. He had learned his lesson from his previous failures.
If he couldn't break the opponent's ability, then no matter how many times he attacked, he would never land a hit. He would exhaust himself in vain, unable to even graze his enemy.
That alone made this battle unlike any he had ever faced.
His instincts screamed at him. The opponent in front of him was no ordinary foe.
His recklessness had cost him dearly before. If he wasn't careful, he would die here.
"Hey!" He turned to Zangetsu with a scowl. "You're supposed to be the brains here. Figure out what's going on and break his ability already! I need to cut this guy into pieces!"
Zangetsu ignored him, his focus locked entirely on Uehara Shiroha. His mind raced with possibilities, with theories, with half-formed conclusions that he struggled to piece together.
Meanwhile, Uehara Shiroha was calmly using Observation Haki, analyzing the remnants of Quincy energy lingering in the air.
He had no interest in merely defeating them.
No—this was an opportunity.
An opportunity to study Quincy power firsthand.
He knew that, in the future, he would inevitably have to face the Quincies again. He would cross paths with Yhwach, the almighty king of the Quincy, and his elite Sternritter.
Understanding their abilities now would prepare him for that confrontation.
After all, Yhwach's forces were not to be underestimated.
Jugram Haschwalth, Yhwach's second-in-command, was already on the same level as Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni himself.
Gremmy Thoumeaux, with his "The Visionary" power, had instantly killed the Monk of the Zero Division.
And then there was "Spirit King", the monstrous form that had absorbed the remains of the Soul King. His strength was so overwhelming that he was considered to be infinitely close to the Soul King's level.
The Quincy system was fascinating.
Even an ordinary Quincy, once they awakened their Schrift—The Holy Word—could ascend to captain-level power instantly, surpassing centuries of training that Shinigami had to endure.
It was an undeniable truth—Quincy power was desirable.
The more Uehara Shiroha analyzed it, the deeper his understanding grew. If he ever had to fight a Quincy again, he would be far more prepared than before.
Over on the other side, Zangetsu had no idea that his abilities were being completely dissected.
He extended a hand to stop White, who had been ready to charge forward recklessly. His voice was firm.
"It's astonishing," he admitted. "I never expected you to have such complete control over this spiritual space… over us."
White's scowl deepened. "Control? Him? Ha!" His tone was full of disdain.
But somewhere, deep down, unease clawed at him.
Because it was true.
If this wasn't an illusion, then Uehara Shiroha truly held absolute control over this spiritual domain.
And that meant… he controlled them as well.
That was why all their attacks had failed. That was why they had looked like clowns in this battle.
A sickening realization settled in White's gut.
For the first time, he felt true despair.
"This ability is beyond shameless," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "With something like this, he can just treat us like punching bags…"
Zangetsu exhaled sharply before shifting his approach. If brute force wouldn't work, then reasoning might.
"As far as I know," he started, "today is the first day Ichigo has awakened his power. You have no real reason to be our enemy. In fact, Ichigo is currently aligned with the Shinigami."
It was rare for Zangetsu to concede, but this opponent was unlike any other.
White, though still seething, stood still. His fists clenched, his body trembled, but he did not attack.
Uehara Shiroha raised an eyebrow.
"Don't misunderstand me," he said with a smirk. "I saw your little family gathering, and I figured I'd drop by to say hello."
His smile widened.
"I wasn't here to destroy your fun. But I did expect a decent fight."
His gaze swept over them—both Zangetsu and White, battered and shaken.
"And this…?" he scoffed. "This is all you've got?"
Uehara Shiroha had another reason for stepping into this battle.
He wanted to analyze Kurosaki Ichigo's power.
The boy was a unique existence—a fusion of Shinigami, Quincy, Hollow, and Fullbringer. His potential was immense, but it remained unrefined. At this stage, he was still immature, his abilities scattered and untamed. But that very potential was precisely why so many powerful figures coveted his strength.
Aizen saw it.
Yhwach claimed it.
And if those two had a reason to desire Ichigo's power, then why shouldn't he?
If even that old monk, Hyōsube Ichibē, could acknowledge the boy's importance, then surely he could, too.
Yet, for now, Ichigo was far from reaching his peak. His power was incomplete, fragmented—far from the level that would make him a true threat.
Still, the mission Uehara Shiroha had set for himself here had been completed with remarkable ease. The process was far simpler than he had anticipated.
"Hah..."
A weak groan echoed through the spiritual space.
White gritted his teeth, his expression twisted in frustration. "Damn it! This time, it was Ichigo who held me back! That's the only reason I lost!"
His voice rose, but the underlying bitterness was evident. "It's not because I was incapable! And it definitely wasn't because I was afraid of this guy!"
Zangetsu, exhaling in relief, ignored his companion's tantrum.
"Now that you've said hello, can you leave?" he asked, his tone wary but restrained.
Deep down, he desperately hoped that Uehara Shiroha had no real intention of harming them.
The absence of killing intent from the mysterious intruder was a relief. If possible, Zangetsu would rather avoid outright hostility against such an opponent.
This ability—this terrifying force that had rendered them helpless—was beyond comprehension.
They stood no chance against him.
Uehara Shiroha, however, merely smirked.
"Then, see you again—if fate allows." His voice was distant, elusive, as if fading into the wind itself. "I hope that next time we meet, you will be stronger."
His form vanished in an instant.
The ethereal white cranes that had hovered around him dissipated like mist. The jade-colored pathway beneath his feet faded as though it had never existed.
With his departure, the spiritual space gradually began to revert to its original form.
The once-altered domain—filled with surreal landscapes and manipulated physics—shifted back into the familiar towering buildings of Ichigo's mindscape.
Zangetsu stared into the distance, his brows furrowed.
"If possible…" he murmured under his breath, "I hope we never see him again."
But he knew.
That was wishful thinking.
Ichigo would continue to grow. He would evolve, his power would reach unprecedented heights. And when that day came, they would inevitably cross paths with Uehara Shiroha again.
There was no escaping that fate.
Suddenly, a loud voice shattered the lingering silence.
"BASTARD!"
White, who had been stewing in his own frustration, finally snapped. His voice roared through the space.
"Next time we meet, I'll make you PAY!"
The sheer audacity of his declaration was laughable.
Zangetsu merely gave him a sideways glance, unimpressed. "Big words when the fight is over. Nonsense during the battle. Silence when it's too late."
He sighed.
White was many things—violent, reckless, hot-headed. But he wasn't an idiot.
Deep down, he knew the truth.
He knew exactly who to challenge and who to never provoke.
"If we can't crack his ability, we have no chance of winning." Zangetsu's voice turned grim. "Unless Ichigo can perfectly control his power, there's nothing we can do."
His gaze darkened.
No—more than that.
They didn't even know how Uehara Shiroha's ability worked.
It wasn't an illusion.
It wasn't just spiritual manipulation.
It was something far beyond that.
Zangetsu could only theorize that it was a rule-based ability—one that specifically targeted mental consciousness and absolute control of the battlefield.
There was no trace of an illusion. No signs of energy manipulation.
And yet… it was completely unavoidable.
This wasn't just some powerful skill.
It was a god-like ability.
How could they possibly counter something like that?
White fell silent again, clenching his fists so hard his nails dug into his palms.
Meanwhile, Uehara Shiroha Returned to His Body.
The moment his consciousness settled back into reality, a system prompt echoed in his mind.
[Ding! Congratulations to the host for completing the special mission (14): "Three-Party Talks—Subdue the Protagonist!" Reward: EX-Rank Ability - Unlimited Blade Works! ]
An EX-Rank Ability.
Uehara Shiroha's lips curled into a triumphant smirk.
"Wuhu, I'm flying high!"
Twenty years of effort? Gone in an instant.
This was beyond broken.
A single phrase popped into his mind:
"From now on… I will stand in the sky!"
He had already crushed White and Zangetsu effortlessly with the Mind Gem's power.
Now, he had something even greater.
His heart pounded with excitement as he immediately checked the ability's description.
[Unlimited Blade Works]
Level: EX
Proficiency: Beginner
Type: Inherent Barrier
Ability:
Copy any weapon seen or used into the world of Fate/Stay Night: Unlimited Blade Works.
Expand the mental world to trap enemies inside.
Project the copied weapons into reality.
As an EX-level ability, it can replicate most artifacts. The replicas retain the original abilities.
Introduction:
This ability originates from the Fate series, where Emiya Shirou ascended to an immortal Heroic Spirit using Unlimited Blade Works.
Obtained after completing [Special Mission 14 – Three-Party Talks, Conquer the Protagonist].
"I am the bone of my sword!"
STRONG!
It was worthy of its EX ranking!
The effect was ridiculous—borderline invincible.
Although it was the same ability as Shirou Emiya's, Uehara Shiroha's version was stronger due to the higher ability level.
With this power…
He could dominate even Coyote Starrk and Gilgamesh.
The sacred relic of the Tsunayashiro family, Enrakyōten, could only copy Shikai-level Zanpakutō.
But Unlimited Sword Works?
It could replicate Bankai.
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