Chapter 288: For love, I would die.

Name：Fairy Tail: Shinigami Author：
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Chapter 288: For love, I would die.

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[Adam C. POV]

Two years had passed since I entered the desolate landscape within my soul, or so it felt... this place was a realm that mirrored what I imagined hell to be. It was a place of perpetual torment, where the air was in no way breathable, and there was nothing to eat. Hordes of demons, twisted manifestations of my own fears and doubts, relentlessly surged forth, each confrontation being harder than the last.

It was getting to the point I was starting to wait for the fight I would not win.

As I fought against the ceaseless onslaught, my thoughts echoed in the quiet recesses of my mind. The battles within mirrored the struggles I faced in the external world, a reflection of the relentless challenges that tested the core of my being.

"Is this the price of power?" I mused, parrying a demon's strike with Zanryuzuki. I couldn't use my Shikai, or Bankai, but I was still every bit the warrior I had ever been.

The landscape around me bore the scars of countless skirmishes. Pillars of jagged rock, remnants of fallen demons, punctuated the barren expanse. The only thing that hadn't changed was the tempestuous sky overhead, it was still the same swirling maelstrom of energy that seemed to mirror the turmoil within.

So far, all I had figured out was that the demons I had been facing took on twisted forms, distorted reflections of my fears and insecurities. They didn't talk, but I could... somehow understand their existence.

Not everything was bad though, in the solitude of this hell, I found a peculiar solace. The relentless fighting became a form of catharsis, a way to purge the lingering shadows that clung to my soul. Each fight was different enough to... keep things interesting.

Yet, the question lingered: Was this the path to true realization, or merely a descent into perpetual conflict? The boundary between self-discovery and self-destruction blurred as I navigated the labyrinth of my own soul.

Urahara had talked about trials, about... challenges, but so far, all I had done... is fight, and fight, and fucking fight, day and night, not that I knew when it was day or night, the sky was always the same, but yeah.

By now, I had simply settled into a rhythm of combat, my blade singing through the hoarse air, occasionally clipping through the flesh of my adversaries, sending blood spattering onto the already stained ground. That being said, I could not help but ponder the purpose of this ceaseless struggle.

Killing the demons did nothing, other than making them stronger. I was still stronger than them... but at the rate I was killing them, it was just a matter of time before I couldn't win.

Nothing worked... fighting, talking, letting them be. Nothing worked.

I sighed. "This really doesn't help me..."

I wonder what the old man would say....

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[Flashback.]

As our training session ended, Yamamoto's stern gaze bore into mine as he spoke with unwavering authority. "You rely far too much on your blade, brat."

"Isn't that the point of being a shinigami?" I replied, sighing. "To be one with your blade?"

"Fool, a Zanpakuto is an extension of your being," Yamamoto grunted, his tone carrying a solemn gravity. "It is not merely a weapon; it is a manifestation of your soul's essence. A friend, sure, but its purpose is not to be your friend alone, the purpose behind a Zanpakuto is to be a focus, we are not Gods of the Sword, we are Gods of Death, brat, Zanpakutos simply make it easier for us to channel our power."

I frowned. "Nothing but a focus? That's a bit reductive."

Yamamoto's eyes held a discerning gaze. "Don't mistake my words, brat, there isn't a greater ally than your blade. That being said, you are not strong because of your blade, your blade is strong because of you. Your Zanpakuto is a reflection of your strengths and vulnerabilities. Embrace it, wield it with purpose, and you shall unlock its true potential."

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[Adam C. POV.]

I smiled, remembering his words. Though I didn't know how to apply his wisdom to my situation, it brought a small sense of comfort.

I glanced at my blade, lying beside me, its surface gleaming even in the dim light of the cave, I had taken refuge in. There were no words, like usual in this hell, only silence. My blade was strong because of me... right?

Did that mean the true peak of a Shinigami was... not needing one's Zanpakuto to use our powers to their fullest extent?.... I had tried using my powers, despite being unable to hear Zanryuzuki, but... perhaps I hadn't tried hard enough? I mean, I didn't learn how to use Zanryuzuki overnight, it took time.

"I might as well give it a go," I said, walking out of the cave, to face the upcoming horde. From now on, I would fight without my blade. "Huh... is it me, or the sky looks... clearer?" Nah, it was me, that shit was still super red, and diabolical.