Chapter 182 Raigebait successful (182)

For just a moment, nobody dared speak.

Even though they had practically just watched a live execution of a man, the Vikings didn’t feel too down; they felt like they had this shit in the bag.

Hrólf descended the stone stairs with an almost childlike enthusiasm. Now that Gabriel looked closer, this guy was giving off heavy Thor vibes.

Given the fact that he was ginger and all, Gabriel blinked a bit—oh, he had just noticed that! The guy’s build was practically a one-to-one match with mythically accurate Thor.

Ginger? Check. Big-ass belly? Check. A hammer with a short-ass handle? Check. Some gloves? Check. And what seemed to be a belt that Gabriel could tell easily doubled the man’s strength.

No, it did more than double it.

That was nice.

This man’s raw stats would rival Yamamoto’s. Gabriel wondered who would win if they fought. He was actually quite tempted to summon Yamamoto right now and have them duke it out.

Currently, he had the old guy working as a guardian of Hell—basically serving as King Yemma down there because Gabriel’s ass did not want to deal with the paperwork. So, that was the main reason he wouldn’t summon him, that and the fact he was keeping him in his back pocket just in case.

Also, out of a tiny sliver of mercy for the Shinigami, he didn’t want to break their spirit too badly.

Though his curiosity was piqued, it wasn’t by them. He had studied Shinigami biology so extensively that he knew how that shit ticked way better than they did. He had the knowledge and skill to create Shinigami if he wanted to; after all, it wasn’t even a true race—it was basically just a job. Nothing too special about those bums.

What piqued his interest was Rukia. Even though she was so weak compared to everyone else, he felt the most sense of danger coming from her for some odd reason. Did she perhaps have some hidden power he wasn’t aware of?

That might require further testing.

Nothing actually dangerous, mind you—just poking at it.

She might be fun to experiment with…

…

…

…

Fine… play.

It was the first time in a while he had felt a strange instinct like that.

While Gabriel was wondering why the fuck it felt like his life was in danger, the Shinigami were experiencing their own brand of dread—though theirs wasn’t directed at an all-powerful being. Instead, they were thoroughly shaken. Byakuya, one of their absolute best, had just gotten effortlessly handled by a Sin. And from the look of it, while the Sins were powerful, they weren’t even the absolute apex.

Hrólf wanted the smoke.

For centuries, the Northern Branch had fought against countless supernatural threats. Their warriors had faced monsters, demons, and creatures that would make ordinary men lose their minds.

But this? This was an entirely different battlefield.

And Hrólf loved it.

“HAHA! Now this is more like it!”

He leaped down from the final few steps, landing heavily in the center of the arena. The stone beneath his boots cracked slightly as golden lightning briefly danced across his shoulders. He rolled his neck, then rested his massive warhammer against the ground.

“Come on, then! Who’s going to entertain me?”

A few Hollows exchanged glances.

They wouldn’t mind fighting him, though not all of them thought it would be easy. You see, Gabriel had made sure his Hollows weren’t mindless and could accurately gauge Reiatsu. They could tell this man’s power was immense—sitting somewhere around mid-to-high Sin level.

In terms of Captains, that put him right between Yamamoto and Shunsui—truly absurd power.

Gabriel had increased his army’s strength so much that his Sins could thoroughly wreck the Captains even if they were all in their prime and the Soul Society was given the absolute peak version of their military force (excluding Bonnie Blue Junior and his group, of course). Though if they were there, Gabriel would have had a blast, especially with a mini group project.

Grimmjow cracked his neck, standing up as he felt like stretching his limbs.

“The Viking’s got a big mouth.” He didn’t want to sit around for the whole event; he wouldn’t mind breaking the man’s face in. It had been a while since his last proper fight.

Nearby, Starrk yawned, lazily sipping some of the wine he had been served. That stuff was heavenly.

Gabriel had two ways of crafting wine like that. Either he had his Fullbringers work on it to refine it into something divine, or he used the authority he stole from the bum who used to call himself the King of Hueco Mundo before he got put in a pack.

Yes, he used Senescence on the wine, aging it thousands of years in seconds while keeping the purity above 90%.

The stuff was absolute perfection.

Starrk ignored the fact that the cup itself was carved from a Vasto Lorde-tier Hollow. It enhanced the flavor, for one, and kept the wine fresh far longer. Once Gabriel had cracked the formula to mass-produce Vasto Lordes, he just started doing random shit like that out of sheer boredom.

Starrk wasn’t going to say a damn thing to him—Gabriel was the King, after all. The only thing Starrk gave a shit about was his paid time off.

“Hopefully this doesn’t mess with my vacation,” he sighed softly. If Grimmjow went overboard, he really didn’t want his time off revoked over some stupid nonsense.

Harribel said nothing, her gaze fixed intently on the arena floor.

Meanwhile, Gabriel looked down at the leader of the Northern Branch with genuine interest.

“Stormbearer, was it?” He really didn’t want this fight to end too quickly. The man’s heavy-hitting fighting style made him a prime target for Grimmjow’s authority. That ability practically turned Grimmjow into Mahoraga against a brute force brawler, making him absolute nightmare matchup material.

“Bearer of the Stormforged Hammer, breaker of giants, and slayer of the Draugr!”

A few members of his delegation cheered loudly.

Yet, the Shinigami felt a shudder run straight down their spines. Even they weren’t aware of all those titles; it seemed Gabriel’s information network ran dangerously deep.

“You’ve got quite the impressive titles.” Gabriel smiled so brightly his sharp fangs were fully visible.

While he looked mostly humanoid, the horns forming a crown on his head and the fact that he was quite literally exuding the vibe of an apex predator weren’t helping matters.

“Earned every single one of them!” Hrólf’s voice boomed across the arena. The man sounded intensely proud of himself.

“That’s wonderful.” Gabriel leaned back into his throne. “I sure hope you can live up to them.”

The man laughed booming, as if he had just heard a great joke. “Wouldn’t have it any other way!”

Starrk frowned slightly. Gabriel having small talk with a guest? That was new. Starrk wondered what the King was actually trying to accomplish right now.

“Bring me that Draugr,” Hrólf said, pointing his heavy hammer straight at Grimmjow.

Grimmjow grinned widely. Oh yes, he was going to fuck this old man… up.

“Bring it on,” Grimmjow said, his smile spreading wider as he cracked his neck. “Name’s Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Sin of Wrath.”

“Wrath, eh?” Hrólf gave him an approving nod. “Good. I like angry warriors.”

Grimmjow snorted. “Then you’re gonna love me.”

‘Can you two fuck already?’ Gabriel thought. However, he exercised self-control; he would never say such words out loud.

“Actually, no,” Gabriel interrupted, stopping Grimmjow before he could step forward.

“Huh…?” Grimmjow stopped, confused. Why was he being held back?

Gabriel wore a mildly amused smile. “Unfortunately, I will have to deny this matchup.”

That was odd. Shunsui’s ears perked up. Wasn’t this whole event supposed to be a showcase of absolute dominance from the Hollows? Why would they stop one of their strongest from fighting Hrólf? Was Gabriel afraid his Sin would get destroyed?

“What? Are you afraid he won’t be able to keep up?” Hrólf mocked. It seemed he had reached the exact same conclusion as Shunsui.

Grimmjow looked furious. He was no pussy; he ducked no smoke. He was about to bark back when he felt Gabriel’s suffocating aura flare behind him… hm, actually, the floor stone looked quite pretty right now.

“No. On the contrary, I am afraid for your safety.”

Heh. The Asgardians—yes, that was what Gabriel had decided to call the northern warriors—froze. A few of them were already beginning to look deeply offended; saying something like that was basically swearing at their pride.

“MY SAFETY?!” Hrólf did not seem to take that well.

“Grimmjow is your absolute worst matchup, you see. Once he gets started, it’s quite hard to stop him.”

Hrólf was looking more and more annoyed by the second. “I demand a fight against him!”

Nearby, Starrk felt a chill run down his spine. To everyone else, Gabriel might look like he was wearing a calm, polite smile, but being seated so close to the throne, Starrk could see the truth: Gabriel had the most shit-eating grin on his face.

Oh… he’s ragebaiting the man.

“Well, if you so wish,” Gabriel said casually, as if he had actually contemplated the request for a long time.

“Reinforce the barriers.”

He allowed Grimmjow to walk into the arena floor. But as soon as Grimmjow stepped down, sixty extra barriers were instantly deployed, compressed tightly into each other, each layer exponentially stronger than the last.

“Same rules as last time: killing is prohibited, and targeting the audience is also prohibited. Apart from that… have fun.”

A/N Had to reread my story but my memory still fuzzy about some detail {ie names i gave shit} I still vividly remember the plot, even his kids, its just the names are hard to remember, so if i make a mistake, please do correct me.

I litsen like 80 % ish percent of the time.

I finally get to wrte the new power system i wrote.