Second-year student Sōsuke Aizen had already mastered Kyokkō.
Although it wasn’t a particularly high-level Bakudō, if his classmates had seen him use it so flawlessly, they would have been utterly floored.
“Mr.
Shimizu, straight ahead,” Aizen’s calm voice carried a faint, almost imperceptible trace of excitement.
Their ongoing philosophical debate was abruptly cut short as they spotted the enemy’s tracks.
“Alright!
Go get ’em, Sōsuke!
I choose you!”
Aizen felt a profound sense of helplessness wash over him at his teacher’s bizarre, nonsensical battle cries.
It only cemented his belief that Mr.
Shimizu was entirely unfathomable.
The man was like a book with an infinite number of pages, every turn revealing an unexpected surprise or a complete shock.
He could be as deep and mysterious as the ocean one moment, and an absolute clown the next.
He was as gentle as water to his students, mysteriously aloof with his allies, and possessed absolutely zero bottom line when dealing with his enemies.
His entire persona screamed: You will never figure me out!
This wasn’t their first rodeo together, and their teamwork was flawless.
Aizen played the vanguard, while Haru provided support and crowd control.
Finding a comfortable perch on a nearby rooftop, Haru squatted down and observed.
Well, mostly, he was observing Aizen.
It had been a year, and while Aizen’s overall combat progression wasn’t earth-shatteringly exaggerated, his Reiatsu growth alone was terrifying.
Just by passively existing, his Spiritual Pressure had swelled to the equivalent of a Third or Fifth Seat officer.
Having never officially served in a Division himself, Haru’s understanding of the exact power scaling between seated officers was a bit fuzzy.
But he did know that the gap between different Captains could be wider than the gap between a human and a dog.
Of course, Aizen had achieved this growth rate without even trying—he had poured all his focus into his scientific research.
For his Reiatsu to passively reach such a level was honestly horrifying.
“Look over here, gentlemen!”
A bizarre figure, his face entirely obscured by the rippling camouflage of Kyokkō, used Shunpo to drop directly into the center of the rebel squad.
The rebels had just finished butchering a Gotei 13 patrol unit, the stench of fresh blood still clinging to their clothes.
Reacting with veteran speed to the sudden ambush, they instantly fired off three to five Kidō spells in unison.
Bolts of lightning and streams of fire tore through the air.
But right before the lethal spells could strike Aizen, a strange, invisible force gently tugged at them, pulling the destruction safely past his cheeks.
Throughout the entire barrage, Aizen simply stood there, perfectly calm, acting as though the incoming Kidō didn’t even exist.
‘When it comes to acting like an absolute badass, this kid is a natural!
And he even stole my line!’ Haru grumbled inwardly from the roof.
The battle below raged on.
Unaware of the intricate Reishi manipulation that had just occurred, the rebels simply assumed they had missed their target in the chaos.
One of them drew his Zanpakutō and lunged, bringing his blade down in a vicious, two-handed cleave.
Aizen drew his Asauchi and effortlessly parried the heavy blow.
Looking down at the struggling rebel, he offered a soft, polite chuckle.
His free hand drifted forward like a gentle spring breeze, pressing lightly against the man’s stomach.
“Hadō Number Thirty-Three: Sōkatsui.”
A geyser of pale blue fire erupted directly from the rebel’s abdomen, instantly swallowing him whole.
The man didn’t even have the chance to scream.
When the roaring flames faded, nothing remained but falling ash and the sickening stench of charred flesh.
The terrifying, point-blank destructive power froze the surrounding rebels in their tracks.
They exchanged horrified glances, their initial aggression entirely replaced by the primal fear of the unknown.
Unfortunately for them, Aizen had no intention of letting them go.
These were high-quality test subjects.
How to manipulate ambient Reishi in the midst of live combat.
That was the thesis Haru had assigned to him.
Aizen had already achieved considerable success in this field.
The barrage of Kidō that had missed him earlier had been manually derailed by his Reiatsu mere milliseconds before impact.
Aizen had a profound premonition that once he pushed this technique to its absolute zenith, no Kidō in the world would ever be able to touch him.
In fact, any attack relying on the manipulation of Reishi would be utterly useless against him.
Two massive Shakkahō fireballs roared toward him from opposite sides.
Aizen simply raised his hands and gave a sharp, twisting motion.
The two spheres of fire veered off their trajectories, brushing past his shoulders and slamming perfectly into each other.
A deafening explosion rocked the alleyway.
Realizing that Kidō was entirely ineffective, the remaining rebels drew their blades and charged into close-quarters combat.
But Aizen was a master of all trades—Zanjutsu, Hakuda, Hohō, and Kidō.
Moving with predatory, blinding speed, Aizen systematically slaughtered the rebel squad.
Watching from above, Haru saw that the enemy’s morale had completely collapsed, their minds utterly consumed by terror.
‘It’s time.’
Haru snapped his fingers.
The space directly above the remaining rebels violently warped.
Gale-force winds whipped up debris and dust as a sickly purple light began frantically spiraling into a central point.
A terrifying, unnatural gravitational pull erupted from the core of the vortex.
Aizen’s eyes widened in alarm.
Abandoning the meaningless slaughter, he instantly triggered Shunpo twice in rapid succession, fleeing the area of effect.
Landing safely beside Haru on the rooftop, Aizen quietly observed the center of the battlefield.
Every time he witnessed this technique, a profound sense of terror and awe gripped his heart.
He still didn’t know Haru’s true limits.
Judging solely by his Spiritual Pressure, Haru always seemed to hover right around the Lieutenant level.
But Aizen highly suspected that Haru—much like himself—was constantly hiding his true power.
Even with the strength he currently displayed, Aizen knew that in a chaotic melee, Mr.
Shimizu was undeniably the most terrifying presence on the battlefield.
Aizen had only managed to escape the vortex’s pull because he had seen it before and knew exactly how dangerous it was.
The rebels weren’t so lucky.
They had never witnessed the apocalyptic horror of this spell.
By the time they realized something was wrong, their feet were already rooted to the ground.
In the eyes of the trapped rebels, the normally tranquil blue sky of the Soul Society twisted into a grotesque, abyssal purple.
The swirling light darkened, shifting from a pale violet to a suffocating, pitch-black purple that seemed capable of swallowing a man’s very soul.
At the center of the vortex, reality itself appeared to tear open, revealing a churning void of chaos and nothingness.
An overwhelming, primal dread washed over them—the distinct terror of being sucked into an eternity of damnation.
Even the light of the moon seemed to warp and bend around the vortex, mercilessly ripped from the sky and dragged into the terrifying abyss.
In that moment, the entire world was reduced to that singular, pitch-black purple singularity, radiating endless horror and despair.
The rebels’ faces contorted in pure agony.
They struggled desperately, clawing at the dirt, trying to drag themselves away from the hellish scene.
But in the face of such monstrous power, their efforts were pathetically insignificant.
If not even the moonlight could escape the technique’s gravity, how could they?
Their eyes slowly glazed over.
Grief, sorrow, fury, anxiety, tension, agony, fear, hatred…
a torrential flood of negative emotions crashed into their minds, completely drowning their consciousness.
The purple vortex reached its absolute peak, looking as though it were going to rip the very fabric of space to shreds.
An indescribable, vacuum-like suction exploded outward, swallowing the minds of the rebels one by one.
When the storm finally subsided, a carpet of bodies littered the alleyway.
To call them corpses wasn’t entirely accurate.
They weren’t dead; they had simply been stripped of their minds.
Then again, weren’t Soul Reapers just souls to begin with?
Pushing the philosophical implications aside, Haru waved Aizen over, and the two began hauling the bodies.
After thoroughly looting the victims of all their cash and valuables, they carried the comatose test subjects to their secret base hidden deep in the mountains.
The lab was still incredibly crude, featuring only a few liquid-filled containment tanks used to preserve spiritual bodies.
Haru had bought them for cheap from a shady Rukongai merchant, and thanks to the genius Sōsuke Aizen’s modifications, they barely functioned well enough to delay the souls from dissipating.
None of this would have been possible without the generous ‘sponsorship’ of the rebel army.
“I really hope this rebellion never ends,” Haru sighed wistfully as they worked.
“Where else are we going to find such amazing philanthropists who willingly donate money, loot, and test subjects?
If the Soul Society actually achieves world peace, how are we supposed to get rich?”
Neither Haru nor Aizen noticed it.
Shortly after they had evacuated the battlefield, an invisible gust of wind swept through the alleyway.
Ambient Reishi slowly gathered together, condensing into the faint, translucent outline of an expressionless half-face, quietly watching the spot where they had disappeared.
Somewhere unimaginably deep beneath the Seireitei.
Isolated by an incalculable number of Kidō barriers, it was highly debatable whether this abyssal depth could even be considered part of the Seireitei anymore.
This was the Great Underground Prison—Muken.
Since the founding of the Gotei 13, the number of prisoners who had been locked away in this absolute darkness could be counted on one hand.
It was reserved exclusively for the true anomalies: monsters who were either too politically inconvenient to execute or completely unkillable.
Here, the prisoners were denied the peace of death.
Even the luxury of feeling despair was strictly prohibited.
Bound by supreme Kidō, they were rendered entirely immobile, their senses completely sealed.
To call it imprisonment was an understatement; it was a total, sensory-depriving seal.
In the suffocating darkness…
An unimaginably heinous criminal slowly opened his eyes.
He was not physically bound by Kidō restraints, and he wore the simplest, most pristine white noble attire.
Anyone looking at him would instantly recognize his aristocratic origins, yet it was impossible to glean anything else from his perfectly placid demeanor.
His expression was tranquil to the extreme.
The mere action of opening his eyes instantly triggered a shrill, piercing female voice that echoed violently from the empty void beside him.
[Heeheehee!
Hahahaha!
How long has it been since you last opened your eyes?!
A hundred years?
Five hundred?
A thousand?!
Maybe it’s already been twenty thousand years!
Is your sentence finally up?!
Heeheehee!
Hahaha!]
The criminal completely ignored the chaotic, uncomfortable rambling.
“It hasn’t been nearly that long,” he replied softly.
His voice seemed to act as a trigger, and a soft light slowly bloomed in the abyssal darkness, illuminating only the immediate space around him.
He stood on black stone tiles forged from an unknown, durable material.
Beyond the faint halo of light lay nothing but endless, suffocating black.
Standing in the illuminated void beside him was a woman dressed in white.
A thick black leather strap tightly blindfolded her eyes, and she was adorned with gorgeous, intricate accessories.
[Heeheehee!
Haha!
So what’s your grand goal for opening your eyes today?!
Are we finally breaking out?!
I get so incredibly bored just keeping you company, you know!
Why don’t we go slaughter Central 46?!
We can grind them down into the tiniest little Reishi particles, crush them bit by bit, and then toss them into Hueco Mundo to feed the Hollows!
Or maybe we could…]
The blindfolded woman unleashed a torrential, rapid-fire flood of absolute insanity.
The man paid her manic rambling no mind.
He simply furrowed his brow slightly and calmly interrupted her.
“I saw something…
interesting.”
[Oh really?!
Really?!
It is incredibly rare for a thoroughly boring man like you to find anything interesting!
Let me see, let me see what you saw…]
The woman paused for a fraction of a second.
[Ooooh!
This Reishi manipulation technique…
heehee…
you’re going to be ruined!
Hahahahaha!
Heehee!]
The man lowered his gaze, speaking in a quiet, measured tone.
“Are you finally growing bored of me?
That is…
wonderful news.”
Despite saying something so deeply provocative, his tone remained completely flat and unbothered.
It seemed nothing in existence could truly surprise him.
The only thing in the world that could evoke a sliver of annoyance from him was the ‘woman’ constantly chattering by his side.
[Bored?
How could I ever be bored of you?!
You’re the one who’s bored of everything!
Heeheehee!
But…
if I ever get the chance, I really do want to try and ruin you.
I just want to see what that calm, boring face of yours looks like when it’s twisted in absolute, raging despair!
I’m so excited just thinking about it!
Hahahaha!
Heehee…]
“Do not rush,” the man said softly.
“The opportunity will present itself eventually.
For now, you and I must simply wait.”
As his words faded, the darkness slowly crept back in, greedily swallowing the last sliver of light illuminating the black stone beneath his feet.