The first soul broke apart before it crossed the threshold.
Its scream lasted barely a second before the circular gate swallowed it, leaving behind only a few pale sparks that faded into the darkness above the ritual chamber.
No one standing around the formation moved.
They had heard souls scream before.
Some of the magicians had flinched during the first experiments, while others had turned away or pretended not to hear.
After seventeen failures, even horror had become part of the routine.
The underground facility had been built far beneath the eastern mountains, where the borders of the Empire faded into lands that ordinary travelers avoided.
No road led to the entrance, and no official Imperial record mentioned the structure.
The soldiers stationed above had been told they were guarding an abandoned mine contaminated by dangerous magicules.
Most of them believed it.
Even the researchers working below did not understand who truly controlled the project.
They had been told that their work would strengthen the Eastern Empire and provide it with weapons no other nation possessed.
For some, that promise was enough.
Others had been offered money, noble titles, or access to forbidden magic.
A few had been threatened through their families.
Whatever reason had brought them there, they all shared one understanding.
They were not permitted to leave.
“Stabilize the western formation before the whole thing collapses!” Chief Magician Rojan shouted.
Three assistants hurried toward the glowing pillars surrounding the central circle.
Their robes were stained with blood, ash, and dark residue left behind by previous summonings.
The gate above them twisted violently.
It did not look like an ordinary opening in space.
Instead, it appeared as though the air itself had been folded, stretched, and forced to stare into another reality.
Darkness filled the center, while thin silver lines moved through it like veins beneath skin.
A second soul rose from one of the crystal vessels.
It had once belonged to a human from another world, though no one knew who that person had been.
The soul might have belonged to a soldier, a farmer, a scholar, or someone who had died without ever understanding that their remains would be used in an experiment.
The moment it touched the gate, invisible pressure crushed it.
Memories scattered into glowing fragments.
A child laughing.
A rainy street.
A hand reaching toward someone whose face had already been forgotten.
One of the younger assistants turned his head away.
Rojan noticed.
“Look at it,” he said.
The young man remained frozen.
“Chief Magician, I’ve already seen enough to understand what happened.”
“That was not what I told you to do.”
The assistant slowly looked back toward the gate.
Rojan stepped closer to him.
“If you cannot watch an experiment fail, you will never understand why it failed.
You do not get to hide from the unpleasant part and still claim credit when something finally works.”
The last pieces of the soul disappeared.
The gate shook, and several symbols carved into the floor began losing their light.
Rojan turned toward the control platform.
“What are the energy levels?”
A woman standing behind several floating panels quickly checked the readings.
“Retention is at twenty-three percent.”
“Compatibility?”
“None.”
“How long did the structure hold?”
“Less than four seconds.”
Rojan removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
He looked exhausted, though no one around him was foolish enough to mention it.
“Prepare another one.”
A calm voice came from the chamber entrance.
“No.”
Everyone stopped moving.
Rojan slowly replaced his glasses and turned around.
A tall figure stood beyond the final row of pillars.
He wore pale armor so smooth that it seemed grown rather than forged, and there was no crest on his chest or weapon at his side.
His face was calm and almost beautiful, but nothing about him felt human.
Rojan lowered his head immediately.
“Lord Cornu.
We were not informed that you would be coming today.”
The other magicians bowed as well.
Cornu walked into the chamber without acknowledging any of them.
His eyes remained on the unstable gate above the ritual circle.
“You have destroyed seventeen preserved souls,” he said.
“Four of them were considered highly compatible with dimensional magic.”
Rojan kept his posture respectful.
“The passage rejects every structure we send through it.”
“I can see that.”
“The souls are not strong enough to survive the crossing.”
Cornu turned his head and looked at him.
The pressure that followed was not magic, at least not in any form Rojan understood.
It felt more like his soul had suddenly realized that it stood before something capable of erasing it.
Rojan carefully continued.
“This passage does not behave like the summoning routes in our records.
The souls we possess came from worlds that already have some connection to ours.
Whatever is on the other side of this gate lies beyond those established paths.”
Cornu looked back toward the ritual.
“That is the reason this facility exists.”
“I understand that.”
“You were ordered to reach a world that has never been connected to this one.”
“Yes, Lord Cornu.”
“Then explain why you continue using souls that have already crossed through familiar boundaries.”
Rojan’s jaw tightened slightly.
The criticism was fair, which only made it more irritating.
“We do not have any other samples.”
Cornu walked toward the center of the ritual chamber.
As he approached, the silver lines inside the gate shifted in his direction.
Several magicians instinctively stepped away.
Cornu raised one hand, and every trembling symbol around the chamber became still.
“You have another sample now.”
Something appeared above his palm.
No one saw it enter the room.
One moment, there was nothing there, and the next, a black fragment floated above his hand.
It was smaller than a fingernail and shaped like a piece of broken glass.
Golden symbols moved beneath its surface too quickly for human eyes to follow.
Rojan stared at it.
“What exactly is that?”
“A key.”
“To what?”
Cornu looked at him.
“If we already knew where it led, your work would not be necessary.”
Rojan approached slowly, studying the fragment from several steps away.
Even at that distance, he could feel the authority inside it.
The sensation was nothing like ordinary magic.
It carried order.
Not the idea of order, but a command built directly into existence.
The spells around the chamber reacted immediately.
The ritual lines straightened, the unstable gate widened, and even the trapped souls inside their crystal containers stopped struggling.
Rojan lowered his voice.
“This was not created by the Empire.”
“No.”
“Did it come from the eastern court?”
“No.”
“Then who created it?”
Cornu gave him a quiet look.
Rojan understood the warning and lowered his head.
There were questions that proved a person was intelligent.
There were other questions that merely proved they did not know when to stop speaking.
Cornu moved the fragment above the center of the ritual.
“Add it to the dimensional search.”
The woman at the control platform looked alarmed.
“My lord, we have not examined it yet.”
“You would not understand it even if you did.”
“If the fragment conflicts with the formation, it could destroy the entire facility.”
“It will not.”
She hesitated.
“How can you be sure?”
Cornu slowly turned toward her.
The woman lowered her head immediately.
“I apologize.
I spoke without thinking.”
“You spoke because you are afraid,” Cornu said.
“You can feel that the object possesses authority over your magic, and that fear is reasonable.
What is not reasonable is allowing fear to prevent you from carrying out your purpose.”
He released the fragment.
It remained suspended above the ritual.
The golden symbols inside it changed, and the gate reacted at once.
The darkness in its center deepened until it no longer appeared empty.
It looked endless.
Several magicians staggered as the ritual began pulling energy from their bodies without permission.
Rojan grabbed the edge of the control platform.
“Anchor the formation!
Move now unless you want the chamber to collapse on top of us!”
The assistants rushed back to their positions.
Magicules poured through the surrounding pillars, while crystals embedded in the walls began glowing one after another.
Each crystal contained the remains of harvested souls.
The chamber filled with whispers as hundreds of broken memories awakened at once.
A mother called for her missing child.
A soldier begged someone to forgive him.
A man prayed to a deity whose name had been stripped from his memories.
Rojan ignored the voices and focused on the readings.
“The dimensional range has increased by forty percent.”
The woman beside him stared at another panel.
“It is still rising.
We are at sixty percent now.”
A second panel appeared in front of her.
“Seventy-eight percent.”
The gate expanded until its edges vanished into the ceiling.
Cornu remained standing directly beneath it, completely unaffected.
Rojan looked toward him.
“What is the fragment searching for?”
“A soul.”
“What kind of soul?”
“One with the ability to adapt, survive destruction, resist spiritual collapse, and contain more than one authority.”
Rojan slowly turned back toward the gate.
“That kind of being may not exist.”
“It does.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
Cornu raised his eyes toward the darkness.
“Because something like it has already been sensed.”
The tone of his voice changed slightly.
It was not uncertainty or surprise.
It was attention.
Something beyond Cornu had noticed the ritual.
Far beyond the underground facility, beyond the Empire and even beyond the physical layers of the Cardinal World, another consciousness looked through the black fragment.
Michael did not require eyes.
The magicians believed they were searching through distant worlds, but in truth, they provided only the energy.
Michael supplied the direction.
Thousands of souls passed through its perception.
Most were rejected immediately.
Some were too weak, while others depended too heavily on their physical bodies.
A few possessed unusual abilities but lacked the spiritual strength needed to survive the crossing.
Others had strong wills but little capacity to evolve beyond their natural limits.
World after world appeared and disappeared.
Civilizations without magic.
Planets filled with spiritual energy.
Realities governed by laws entirely different from those of the Cardinal World.
Michael examined each one without curiosity.
Curiosity had no value.
The objective had already been decided.
A vessel was required.
It needed to survive immense power without collapsing.
It needed the ability to adapt, evolve, and receive authority.
Most importantly, it needed to be controlled.
Feldway wanted perfection.
Michael intended to provide it.
Then the search touched something hidden in the darkness.
The response was immediate.
The fragment flashed, and every crystal vessel in the chamber cracked at the same time.
The trapped souls inside screamed as their remaining energy was torn away.
Rojan was thrown against the control platform.
“What happened?”
The woman beside him covered her ears.
“I don’t know.
The readings changed too quickly.”
“Then slow them down and tell me what you see.”
“I can’t.
The system is producing symbols I don’t recognize.”
New markings flooded the floating panels.
None belonged to a language known by the Imperial magicians.
Cornu narrowed his eyes.
The gate had found something.
He could sense the soul only indirectly through Michael’s authority, but even that distant impression was extraordinary.
The spiritual presence was dense and perfectly controlled.
Its power appeared reduced, though the reduction did not feel natural.
Cornu had studied spiritual beings for longer than many human civilizations had existed.
He understood how frightened creatures hid their strength and how arrogant beings displayed too much of it.
The presence beyond the gate was doing neither.
It was simply waiting.
“Establish contact,” Cornu ordered.
Rojan stared at him.
“We have no idea what we found.”
“That is why we need to make contact.”
“The formation is already close to failure.”
“Then make sure it fails after you complete your task.”
Rojan looked at Cornu for several seconds.
Anger briefly overcame his fear.
Cornu noticed, but chose not to respond.
Rojan turned back toward the controls.
“Redirect everything into the central pathway.”
One of the assistants looked toward the cracked crystal vessels.
“That will consume all the souls we have left.”
“I know.”
“We were ordered to save thirty percent for another test.”
Rojan faced him.
“There will not be another test.
Do it.”
The remaining souls were released at once.
Their energy poured into the ritual, and the entire underground facility shook.
Cracks spread across the ceiling as dust rained onto the glowing floor.
The gate narrowed around a single point.
For the first time, an image appeared inside the darkness.
A chair sat in a chamber without light.
A man was restrained against it, with most of his body and face covered by seals and bindings.
Despite his condition, he showed no fear, confusion, or desperation.
He sat with the calm stillness of someone who had known they were coming.
Rojan leaned toward the image.
“He is alive.”
The woman beside him shook her head.
“That cannot be right.
We should only be seeing the soul.”
“He still has a body.”
“No, look at the readings.
His body and soul are layered together in a way I cannot separate.”
Cornu continued studying the prisoner.
“Measure everything.”
The systems began producing information.
The first few results appeared immediately.
Spiritual density could not be measured.
Adaptive capacity remained unknown.
Soul stability showed continuous fluctuations.
Multiple restraints and external suppression had been detected.
The next reading appeared.
Severe damage to spiritual core.
Rojan leaned closer.
“He is dying.”
Cornu did not respond.
Michael’s awareness pressed deeper into the ritual.
The authority reached through the gate and began examining the prisoner’s outer spiritual layers.
The soul contained immense power, but much of it appeared sealed.
Its structure was unusual, carrying several incompatible qualities that had somehow fused into a single existence.
There was a weapon.
A soul.
An object resembling a wish-granting core.
The being had already moved far beyond the natural limits of its species, but its present condition appeared unstable.
Restrained.
Isolated.
Weakening.
Suitable.
Michael searched for resistance and discovered pride, ambition, and a powerful desire to stand above every other being.
Those qualities were not a concern.
Pride could be redirected.
Ambition could be rewarded, while the desire for supremacy could become useful if the target believed obedience would move it closer to its goal.
The authority pressed deeper.
The prisoner lifted his head slightly.
His covered face turned toward the gate.
Toward Michael.
Rojan stepped back.
“He can see us.”
“That should be impossible,” the woman said.
The prisoner’s lips moved, but no sound crossed the gate.
Cornu watched him carefully.
“What did he say?”
Rojan hurriedly adjusted the formation.
The image sharpened, and the ritual translated the spiritual vibration into sound.
A calm voice entered the chamber.
“You have gone through considerable trouble to reach me.”
Several magicians abandoned their stations and backed away.
Cornu did not move.
Rojan swallowed and stepped closer to the gate.
“Can you hear us?”
The prisoner smiled faintly.
“You asked me a question and received an answer.
I believe that should settle the matter.”
Rojan glanced toward Cornu, but the Phantom gave no instruction.
“My name is Rojan.
I am the chief magician responsible for this ritual.
We are attempting to perform a dimensional summoning from another world.”
“You are not the person in command.”
Rojan’s expression tightened.
“I just told you that I am responsible for the ritual.”
“Yes, you did.
That was not what I said.”
No one in the chamber spoke.
Cornu stepped forward.
The prisoner’s attention shifted toward him.
Neither introduced himself.
For several moments, they simply observed one another through the space between worlds.
Cornu spoke first.
“You are restrained.”
The prisoner lowered his head enough to acknowledge the bindings around him.
“That would appear to be the case.”
“Your own people imprisoned you.”
“We had a disagreement.”
Rojan looked at the heavy restraints covering the man’s body.
“That seems like more than a disagreement.”
The prisoner’s smile did not change.
“Most disagreements appear serious while they are happening.”
Cornu continued before Rojan could say anything else.
“Your spiritual structure is collapsing.”
“Is that what your instruments told you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I understand why you sound so confident.”
Something inside Cornu became more cautious.
The answer had been too calm and too precise.
The prisoner had not denied the damage.
Instead, he had questioned the person observing it.
Before Cornu could respond, Michael’s authority moved deeper into the connection.
The gate shook violently.
Several magicians cried out as pressure filled the chamber.
Rojan dropped to one knee while golden patterns appeared across the image of the prisoner.
The patterns moved toward his chest.
Rojan looked toward Cornu.
“What is happening to him?”
Cornu did not answer.
Michael had begun testing domination.
The authority touched the prisoner’s soul.
At first, it encountered resistance, but the resistance slowly weakened.
A hidden chamber appeared within the spiritual structure, revealing what seemed to be a damaged core surrounded by fractured layers of power.
Michael entered.
The core trembled.
It was not an emotion openly displayed, but a deep instability suggesting that the prisoner understood something far greater had reached him.
Michael placed the beginning of a control circuit inside the damaged core.
The core accepted it.
Cornu felt the connection stabilize.
The prisoner lowered his head, and his spiritual pressure began to fade.
Rojan stared at the image.
“Did you kill him?”
“No.”
“What did you do?”
Cornu remained focused on the gate.
“We established control.”
Rojan looked back at the prisoner.
Michael examined the result.
The control circuit remained in place.
There was no rejection and no immediate adaptation.
The target’s consciousness appeared weaker after the contact.
Compatibility was higher than expected.
The vessel could survive.
The vessel could be controlled.
Michael sent its conclusion through the fragment.
Candidate confirmed.
Cornu released a quiet breath.
After centuries of incomplete plans, unsuitable vessels, and failed preparations, they had finally found something that might survive what was required.
Rojan looked at him.
“What did you mean when you said you established control?”
Cornu finally turned toward him.
“Ownership.”
The word made several magicians exchange uneasy looks.
Rojan’s face hardened.
“This was never an Imperial project, was it?”
“No.”
“Then who are you really working for?”
Cornu looked at him without answering.
Rojan immediately realized he had asked too much.
Before Cornu could decide how to respond, the prisoner spoke again.
His voice sounded weaker, but it remained calm.
“Ownership is a very ambitious word.”
Cornu turned toward the gate.
The man slowly raised his head.
For the first time, one of his eyes became visible through a narrow gap in the restraints.
There was no fear in it.
There was no confusion either.
Only amusement.
The golden markings still remained embedded inside his soul.
Michael’s control circuit had not disappeared, yet Cornu could not ignore the feeling that something was wrong.
He reached toward the black fragment.
“Confirm the domination.”
Michael examined the connection again.
The authority remained attached to the damaged core.
The target’s power was suppressed, and the result appeared complete.
Domination remains successful.
Cornu’s unease did not disappear.
“What is your name?” he asked.
The prisoner lifted his head slightly.
“Sōsuke Aizen.”
Rojan entered the name into the ritual record, though his fingers trembled as he did so.
Cornu repeated it quietly.
“Aizen.”
The prisoner listened as though he were judging how the name sounded when spoken by someone who believed himself superior.
Cornu stepped closer to the gate.
“You are going to be released from that prison.”
Several magicians looked at him in surprise.
Aizen showed no reaction.
“You will be brought into our world,” Cornu continued.
“Your damaged body will be restored, and your power will be given a purpose.”
“How generous of you.”
“In return, you will serve the one whose authority now exists inside you.”
Aizen remained silent for several seconds.
When he answered, his voice had not changed.
“You have mistaken sequence for hierarchy.”
Cornu narrowed his eyes.
“What does that mean?”
“You reached me first, and because of that, you have concluded that you stand above me.”
“You are imprisoned while we possess the means to release you.”
“That is true.”
“You are dying.”
“That is what your instruments claim.”
“You have accepted domination.”
Aizen’s visible eye settled on Cornu.
“That is what your master believes.”
The underground facility shook again.
The gate began collapsing.
Assistants shouted as energy reversed through the formation.
Rojan rushed toward the control panels and tried to stabilize them.
“We are losing the connection.”
“Keep it open,” Cornu ordered.
“We have nothing left to power it.”
“Then use your own souls if you must.”
Every magician in the chamber froze.
Cornu’s expression made it clear that he was not speaking figuratively.
The researchers poured their remaining magicules into the formation.
The gate continued narrowing.
Aizen’s image began to blur.
Cornu moved closer.
“When the passage opens again, you will be brought here.”
Aizen’s voice came through the breaking connection.
“I look forward to seeing which of us still believes that when the time comes.”
The image vanished.
The gate closed.
Every light in the chamber went out.
For several moments, the only sounds were heavy breathing and pieces of stone falling from the damaged ceiling.
Emergency crystals eventually flickered to life along the walls.
The ritual circle had been burned black.
Half the pillars were cracked, several assistants lay unconscious, and blood ran from Rojan’s nose and ears.
Cornu remained beneath the empty space where the gate had been.
The black fragment rested in his hand.
Michael’s authority still maintained a faint connection to the target across dimensions.
The domination circuit appeared stable.
That should have been enough.
Cornu looked toward Rojan.
“Prepare the second phase.”
Rojan wiped the blood from his mouth.
“With what resources?”
“Acquire more.”
“We just consumed years of stored souls.”
“Then collect new ones.”
Rojan’s expression changed for only a moment.
His anger appeared as a slight tightening around the eyes, but Cornu noticed it.
The human’s resentment could eventually become a problem.
For now, his fear remained stronger.
“When do you expect the next passage to open?” Rojan asked.
“When the conditions around the subject become favorable.”
“What conditions?”
Cornu looked down at the fragment.
“When his world brings him close enough to death that his disappearance will seem natural.”
Rojan stared at him.
“How are we supposed to know when that happens?”
“We will not wait for it to happen on its own.”
Far away, in a darkness no one inside the underground chamber could see, Aizen remained seated in Muken.
The foreign connection had nearly vanished, but the control authority remained buried inside the false spiritual core he had created.
It searched the empty chamber and continued reporting obedience to its master.
Aizen studied every pulse it sent.
Every signal.
Every assumption.
The invaders had shown him far more than they understood.
There was another world where power could impose ownership through the structure of a soul.
It was a world where beings crossed dimensions, harvested lives as fuel, and spoke of human existence as though it were a resource.
More importantly, the armored figure had not been the true authority.
Something else had been watching from behind him.
Something colder, more organized, and more confident.
Aizen allowed the false core to tremble exactly as a controlled soul should.
The foreign presence responded with satisfaction.
He now possessed a connection leading directly toward it.
The connection was not yet strong enough to cross, but crossing was not necessary at the moment.
It was strong enough to study.
Strong enough to receive information.
Strong enough to send back whatever lies he wished them to believe.
When the time came, they would expect Sōsuke Aizen to arrive weakened, grateful, and obedient.
The Hōgyoku pulsed inside him.
It had already begun adapting to the foreign authority.
Aizen remembered the armored being’s promise.
Your potential will be given purpose.
A quiet laugh escaped him and disappeared into Muken’s endless darkness.
“How unfortunate,” he murmured.
“They have mistaken their purpose for mine.”
Beyond his sealed chamber, Soul Society’s alarms continued to spread.
Beyond the boundaries of his universe, the summoners prepared another ritual.
Both worlds were moving toward the same moment.
Neither side understood that Aizen had already begun arranging that moment for them.