Baraggan’s power was fully exposed now. Killing Ulquiorra outright would be difficult.
So he changed tactics.
"Yield, boy," Baraggan said coldly, as if offering rcy. "Kneel, apologize, and crawl out of my Las Noches."
If not for the two figures standing behind Ulquiorra, Baraggan would never have allowed him to leave alive. In his mind, demanding an apology was already an act of generosity.
Ulquiorra stared back at him in silence, flexing his regenerated left hand. There was no trace of surrender in his eyes.
On the sidelines, Fujimoto Tōma and Starrk watched intently.
"That ability is troubleso," Starrk said grimly. "Ulquiorra’s in real danger."
Tōma nodded.
The black aura around Baraggan wasn’t just destructive. It was aging everything it touched. Flesh, energy, even condensed power constructs. Ulquiorra’s severed arm hadn’t rely been damaged. It had been aged into dust.
"Decay that works on everything," Tōma muttered. "That’s... broken."
And yet sothing felt off.
If Baraggan were truly unstoppable, Tōma would have rembered him far more clearly. Which ant there had to be limits. They just hadn’t surfaced yet.
Still, the situation was grim for Ulquiorra.
Long-range attacks dissolved. Close combat ant risking instant death.
From every angle, the path to victory was blocked.
Ulquiorra knew it too.
But surrender never crossed his mind.
Then there’s only one way, he thought.
Breaking through.
He didn’t have ti to grow as a Hollow. There were no enemies to consu, no room for gradual evolution.
That left only one option.
The path Tōma had spoken of.
Breaking the boundary.
Ulquiorra exhaled slowly.
He hurled several crescent-green energy blades toward Baraggan. As expected, the black aura swallowed them whole.
"Useless," Baraggan scoffed.
Then he froze.
Ulquiorra’s mask was gone.
In its place, a barely stable blade had ford in his hand.
Baraggan sneered. "Disgusting. Abandoning your Hollow form to imitate a Shinigami?"
His power surged. A black Cero roared toward Ulquiorra.
Starrk moved.
Tōma stopped him with one hand.
"Watch," Tōma said, smiling faintly.
Pressure had finally done its job.
Ulquiorra opened his eyes.
The blade stabilized.
He stood clad in white, black-lined attire, a horned fragnt of mask covering half his head. He looked... weaker than before.
And that was true.
This form wasn’t stronger yet.
Because his power wasn’t spread across his body anymore.
It had been condensed into his blade.
Ulquiorra raised it and slashed.
The two forces collided in a violent explosion, throwing him backward in a cloud of dust.
"Hah," Baraggan said. "You’re weaker now. Discard that ugly form and return to being a Hollow."
"You talk too much."
Ulquiorra’s voice erged from the smoke, calm and uninjured.
Then the air changed.
Black energy rained down like ash.
"Seal yourself," Ulquiorra said quietly.
"Black-Winged Demon."
The dust dispersed.
Massive black wings unfurled behind him, blotting out the sky. His presence surged violently.
Baraggan’s eyes widened.
Ulquiorra’s pressure had surpassed his.
By a wide margin.
Without hesitation, Ulquiorra ford another glowing blade and hurled it.
Baraggan’s decay stopped it again, but only barely.
More blades followed. Faster. Sharper.
Forced to block, Baraggan’s vision was obscured.
Ulquiorra vanished.
High-speed movent erased his presence entirely.
Baraggan’s instincts scread.
He dispelled part of the black aura.
Too late.
A green blade flashed beside him.
He unleashed his power in panic, decay exploding outward in a wave.
Ulquiorra escaped by a hair’s breadth.
A thin crack ran along Baraggan’s eye socket.
Ulquiorra clicked his tongue.
Still not enough.
But now, things were different.
His strength, speed, and pressure were all vastly higher. As long as he didn’t let that decay touch him, victory was inevitable.
He ford another blade and charged.
Their weapons clashed.
This ti, Ulquiorra overpowered him.
Baraggan’s axe recoiled.
Decay surged again. The blade shattered.
A new one ford instantly.
Again and again, Ulquiorra pressed forward.
Baraggan blocked desperately, frustration growing.
He wanted that power.
But he didn’t know how to reach it.
Ulquiorra drifted back into the air, calm and composed.
Looking down, he spoke in that flat, emotionless voice.
"I’ll return your words to you."
"You can’t win anymore."
"So," he said, wings spreading wide,
"concede."
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