Masatsuki Aozaki watched as Sōya Azashiro slowly raised his right hand toward him.
Narrowing his eyes slightly, Azashiro spoke in an indifferent tone.
"Give up, Masatsuki Aozaki."
"I know you’re strong—your power rivals that of the Captain-Commander."
"But against my Bankai, brute strength is aningless."
"The figure you’re seeing now is rely what I choose to let you see."
"The real is everywhere."
"When I activate my Bankai, my body rges with all of Seireitei itself."
"So tell —do you have the resolve to destroy the entire Seireitei just to kill ?"
His voice carried a deliberate challenge.
But before he could even finish his taunt—
Masatsuki Aozaki’s figure flickered.
In an instant, his hand was already pressing down on Azashiro’s head.
"Kill you?" Masatsuki said lazily. "If I did that, Urozakuro would just throw a fit."
His tone was light and unconcerned, as if Azashiro’s life or death was no more than an afterthought.
And in truth, it was.
The only connection Masatsuki had to this man... was Urozakuro.
"But trying to distract with words like that?" Masatsuki smirked, his gaze sharp. "You really aren’t suited to be Kenpachi."
It was as if he could see right through Azashiro’s thoughts.
Azashiro’s ability was fusion—once sothing was rged with him, they beca one.
Which ant that if the Reishi composing a fused object were damaged, Azashiro himself would suffer the consequences.
And that applied even to the body he had materialized from the surrounding Reishi.
Masatsuki’s eyes grew cold.
With a slight squeeze of his fingers—
Azashiro’s Reishi construct shattered instantly. Even the Reishi making up his body began to disintegrate.
Masatsuki turned his head.
Behind him, another identical Reishi avatar of Azashiro had silently appeared.
At the sa ti, the air around them suddenly shifted, as if stirred by an unseen force.
From calm stillness, it beca violently agitated.
The once-gentle air turned into countless invisible ropes, lashing out and tightly binding Masatsuki’s body.
Beneath his feet, the ground churned, rising in waves of rock and earth, surging forward layer upon layer, trying to entrap him.
A chorus of agonized screams echoed throughout Muken—a chilling, blood-curdling sound.
And then—
A searing wave of flas erupted, slicing through the air like a rciless blade.
Hadō No. 96: Ittō Kasō!
A forbidden sacrificial Hadō—one so powerful that even its user suffered damage upon casting.
The spell burned part of the caster’s body to cinders as an offering, unleashing a devastating inferno.
A towering, katana-shaped pillar of fire engulfed everything in its path, its destruction unmatched.
Though in pure might, it may not compare to the flas of the old man Yamamoto—
By fusing with the bodies of the imprisoned souls within Muken, Azashiro had layered dozens of Ittō Kasō together.
All aid at Masatsuki Aozaki.
The pressure was imnse.
The turbulent Reishi storm raging through Muken was like an infernal dance of fla spirits.
They burned wildly, feeding the blazing inferno, forming a massive katana-shaped vortex of fire.
Amid this hellish spectacle, Kenpachi Azashiro stood motionless, his face pale.
His breath was ragged.
It was clear that losing such a vast amount of Reiatsu and fused Reishi in one instant had placed a trendous strain on him.
His fists, slick with sweat, clenched tightly as he silently watched the roaring flas before him.
Ti passed.
The fire continued to rage.
Yet within the churning, surging pillar of flas—
There was no movent.
As if everything had already been decided.
The blazing inferno roared on, casting blinding flashes of light into the darkness of Muken...
Sōya Azashiro muttered under his breath.
"It’s over... the Eleventh Kenpachi."
His voice carried a faint sense of regret—along with quiet relief.
But in the very next mont, a chill crept up his spine.
His eyes widened in disbelief as he took in his surroundings.
At so point, the space around them had beco enclosed within a thin, transparent wall. It was barely visible, yet it sealed them off completely, like a mirror separating them from the outside world.
Super Reiatsu Barrier.
Azashiro’s heart sank.
Just then, Masatsuki Aozaki’s voice rang out again.
"Causing such a commotion... What if the old man notices?"
Then, in a mocking tone, he added,
"No wonder Urozakuro is always worried about you, kid."
"You really don’t think things through. You should be grateful I covered up all this noise for you."
The raging inferno surged like a dragon, rising high into the air, its devouring force crashing toward the barrier with unstoppable montum.
But then—
Sothing unexpected happened.
The flas, instead of burning through, were completely halted. The invisible wall held firm, blocking them entirely, preventing even a sliver from escaping.
It had stopped right at the edge of Muken’s defensive barrier!
Azashiro’s eyes widened further.
This phenonon... It was unnatural.
A deep sense of unease settled over him.
"Impossible..." he murmured.
Dozens of Ittō Kasō stacked together—how could any Shinigami withstand that?
He should’ve been reduced to ashes.
Did I mishear?
It must be a newly installed defensive barrier in Muken.
He tried to reassure himself, but his gaze remained fixed on the blazing pillar of fire.
Then, just a few seconds later, the reflection of the inferno in his eyes revealed a sight that sent shockwaves through his mind—
A dark silhouette erged from the flas.
Step by step, it advanced, completely unfazed by the raging Kidō flas erupting around it like a volcanic inferno.
As the figure moved forward, its darkness beca more pronounced, swallowing the fiery glow.
A force—utterly different from the flas’ heat—distorted the surrounding air.
Azashiro’s pupils shrank.
Confusion. Shock.
He had no idea what was happening before him.
Countless thoughts raced through his mind, only to be discarded one by one.
But deep down, he already knew—this was what he had always dismissed as futile struggle.
Then, from within the fire, a figure fully erged.
A strange smile played across his lips—
Like an angel stepping into the depths of Hell.
"Those guys are my trophies," the voice said, disturbingly calm, brimming with unshaken confidence.
"But fortunately, they all belong to Muken anyway. That ans I still have plenty of ti to deal with them."
"...This... how can this be? This is impossible..."
Azashiro’s voice trembled, laced with disbelief.
"Enough already—stop making a fool of yourself!"
Masatsuki Aozaki’s voice suddenly bood.
"Sōya, you really haven’t grown up at all."
His words struck like a thunderclap, and Azashiro’s entire being trembled.
Not just the physical form he had materialized—
Everything he had fused with.
All of Seireitei shuddered in response.
A naless chill swept through the Soul Society.
Only a select few could sense the shift.
Inside the First Division barracks, an old voice murmured,
"It’s getting colder... Has the season changed again?"
The man’s gaze fell upon the cane in his hands. His tone, uncharacteristically gentle, carried a rare warmth.
"Then... I’ll leave it to you, Ryūjin Jakka."
...
"Why...?"
Azashiro’s voice rose involuntarily.
"You... you should have been reduced to ashes!"
The realization of what he was feeling—of what this feeling was—made his breath catch.
No...
It couldn’t be.
Even as he tried to banish the thought, an uncontrollable sensation surged within him.
It was a feeling he hadn’t known for centuries—
One he hadn’t felt since childhood, since the downfall of his family, since he and his sister were thrown into the execution grounds—
Since they had stood before the gaping maw of a nos Grande.
Fear.
That was the answer.
And the mont he recognized it, an involuntary scream tore from his throat.
"UAAAAAHHHH—!"
His body recoiled, stepping backward—
From every direction, voices echoed, tinged with frustration.
"Masatsuki Aozaki... your strength is beyond what I imagined."
"But what you’ve done today—"
"—is nothing short of betrayal against the Shinigami."
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