"O ruler! Mask of flesh and blood, all creation, fluttering wings, thou who bears the name of Man! Truth and temperance, upon this sinless wall of dreams unleash but slightly thy claws!"
"Hadō Number Thirty-Three: Sōkatsui!"
With a clear, resonant shout, the man raised his hand toward the wooden target not far away.
In the blink of an eye, a torrential surge of flame engulfed the ground. The sheer volume of spiritual pressure, supported by a complete incantation and hand seals, formed a devastating wave of explosive energy far beyond what an ordinary Shinigami could withstand.
In less than a second, the entire testing ground for beginner-level Kidō practice was obliterated.
"BOOM—"
The explosion's roar arrived belatedly.
The flames illuminated the stunned faces of the Kidō group students standing nearby.
Even Honda Kyougo looked as if he'd seen a ghost.
Fujimori Makoto calmly lowered his hand and turned away with the demeanor of a true man who never looks back at explosions, striding back to his original position.
On the training field constructed from Sekkiseki stone, the raging flames of spiritual energy lasted only a few minutes before gradually extinguishing.
Yet, the crowd remained frozen in place.
It took a long while before Honda Kyougo jogged over, wearing an expression of cautious admiration:
"Truly... truly worthy of Lord Fujimori!"
"Hah."
"Just a mere thirty-something Hadō—nothing special!"
Fujimori Makoto smiled faintly, casting a benevolent gaze at Instructor Honda beside him.
From his composed expression to his relaxed demeanor and the gentlemanly, natural smile—every detail revealed the half-year of dedicated facial expression training Fujimori had undergone solely for this moment of revenge.
That's right!
He had waited a full six months for this day!
He looked at Honda Kyougo's face, now filled with wariness.
Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west!
The me you once ignored is now the me you can't hope to reach!
If only a cheesy background song could play behind him right now, Fujimori felt it would perfectly suit a three-second TikTok clip complete with hand-flourishing dance moves.
Honda Kyougo nodded obediently, though he still ventured hesitantly:
"But... today's test was supposed to be 'Hadō Number One: Shō,' wasn't it?"
"The intermediate Kidō training field is next door."
"And... haven't you already graduated?"
"Instructor Fujimori?"
In an instant, all the new students in the class turned as one, glaring resentfully at this guy who'd barged into their lesson and unleashed an intermediate-level Kidō without warning.
Under their collective gaze, Fujimori Makoto remained serenely unruffled, as if basking in spring sunshine:
"No problem."
"To return home wealthy without showing off is like walking at night in fine clothes!"
"After finally mastering thirty-something Kidō, I felt something would be missing if I didn't let Instructor Honda witness it."
"Well then, goodbye, sensei."
With that, Fujimori turned and walked out the door, leaving behind a roomful of instructors and students with darkened faces.
However, before Fujimori could get far, the sound of patrol squad footsteps echoed from the other end of the hallway.
"That's his spiritual pressure!"
"Bastard! Did you come to the beginner class to show off intermediate Kidō again?!"
"This time, we're definitely catching you!"
Fujimori turned tail and fled, vanishing down the corridor in an instant.
Behind him, several Genryū Shinigami from the patrol squad, armed with swords and clubs, gave chase with furious shouts.
Fujimori's Shunpo was lightning-fast!
Instructor Honda Kyougo watched the scene with a face full of dark lines.
This time, only after Fujimori was long gone did the instructor mutter under his breath:
"This guy... really holds a grudge."
"Does he have to come back every few days just for this?"
Still, despite his grumbling, Honda couldn't help but marvel at Fujimori's progress over the past half-year.
After being gently "advised to quit" six months ago, the kid had somehow experienced an epiphany, his Kidō skills advancing by leaps and bounds.
Three months ago, when he first came back to show off, he'd barely managed to pull off a "Hadō Number Nine."
That alone had been shocking enough.
But by the fourth month, he'd suddenly jumped to "Hadō Number Twenty: Heavenly Ball."
Last month, he'd even managed "Hadō Number Twenty-Six: Crimson Lotus Barrier."
And today was even more outrageous!
Turning back, Honda Kyougo surveyed the wreckage of the training field.
The power of "Hadō Number Thirty-Three: Blue Fire, Downfall" in this kid's hands was nearly twice as strong as an ordinary Shinigami's.
Now, even Honda himself was starting to wonder if his teaching skills had somehow declined.
"That brat."
"Who'd have thought he'd actually be a genius?"
...
Meanwhile, Fujimori Makoto, having successfully flaunted his skills in front of Honda yet again, was still grinning ear-to-ear even after narrowly escaping the patrol squad's pursuit.
He glanced down at his status panel's skill section.
[Kidō: 5th Tier (19/100)]
In just half a year, his Kidō proficiency had skyrocketed to an astonishing level, propelled by his prodigious talent.
His control over spiritual particles was only part of it.
To put it bluntly, if Fujimori wanted to, he could now perform any Kidō below number thirty at full power without incantations.
With a bit more effort, even fifty or sixty-something Hadō wouldn't be too difficult.
For many captain-level Shinigami, this level of skill was nothing special. But for someone who, not long ago, struggled with even the most basic "Hadō Number One," it was a meteoric rise!
Of course, he owed much of his progress to Ko-chan's help.
"I'll make her something tasty today."
Just as Fujimori reached his dorm, however, a childish shout erupted from inside:
"Bakudō Number Sixty-One: Rikujōkōrō!"
Accompanying it was a chaotic surge of spiritual energy.
Incantationless? And... a sixty-something Bakudō!
There's another expert here?!
Fujimori froze for a moment.
Then, a small figure burst through the door and dashed out of the room.
Eishima Kourin had just rushed out when she spotted Fujimori standing in the hallway. With a panicked "Wah! Wah!" she sprinted toward him and hid behind his legs, clinging tightly to his waist.
"Big Brother Makoto! Save me!"
Before Fujimori could even ask what was going on, Shutara Senjumaru's figure crashed through several fragile Bakudō barriers and skidded to a stop outside the door, one hand pressed to the ground in a ready-to-pounce stance.
"Senjumaru? What are you doing in my room?!" Fujimori exclaimed in shock.
"Hey! Grab that little brat hiding behind you!"
"Don't let her get away!"
Shutara Senjumaru, seeming relieved, had two skeletal arms emerge from under her kimono as she barked orders.
"Hold on!"
"Give me some face here!"
Fujimori immediately stepped between them, righteous indignation in his voice: "What in the world is going on?"
As if swayed by his "face."
Before Ko-chan could speak, Shutara blurted out the truth:
"This little brat dared to skip my class!"
Fujimori instinctively turned and noticed that Ko-chan was indeed wearing a white student uniform, her expression pitiful.
"Ko-chan?"
"Teacher Shutara drags out her lessons! And she swears in class!"
Ko-chan tried to defend herself.
But under Fujimori's intense stare, the little peach eventually wilted.
"Mm?"
The little girl hung her head, holding up two tiny fingers.
"Only... only skipped twice."
"Bull! It was twelve full sessions!"
Shutara immediately exploded: "If your deskmate hadn't poked a hole in your Kidō clone today, would I have sworn in class?!"
Ko-chan's head drooped even lower.
Fujimori's gaze at Eishima Kourin grew increasingly complex.
What the—?!
I only sent you to school a few days ago.
And you're already at this level?
You even invented a Kidō technique just for skipping class?!
Though his emotions were tangled, family came first.
Quickly piecing things together and realizing the fault lay on his side, Fujimori hurried over to Shutara, coaxing her gently:
"Ah, Senju... I mean, Teacher Shutara!"
"I'll definitely discipline her properly later—whatever punishment you want."
"Look, it's almost mealtime."
"How about..."
"You stay for dinner today?"