A crisp snap of fingers echoed through the room.
Inside Aizen's laboratory, countless pieces of equipment and instruments sank into the floor, replaced immediately by massive machinery rising from beneath the tiles. Innumerable cables intertwined, and steel structures fused together, constructing something resembling a "gate."
An invisible surge of spiritual power radiated from the apparatus. The Reishi in the room began to riot, interlocking and weaving together. Complex Kido incantations, paired with their corresponding ritual arrays, sent countless tiny branches of light extending from the runes to settle upon the frame of the gate.
In the silence, the doors swung open quietly, revealing a void of pure darkness within.
Watching from the side, Naraku Sora stood slack-jawed, gaining yet another level of appreciation for Aizen's scientific prowess. He had participated in Shutara Senjumaru's experiments more than once and had even been responsible for some of the simpler, foolproof operations. In terms of sheer visual spectacle, Aizen's research was on par with hers.
However, there was one major difference: Shutara Senjumaru's experiments and research were built upon the labor of many Soul Reapers. Aizen was different. Because most of his experiments couldn't see the light of day, and he had no desire to attract undue attention, the fact that he had achieved these results alone led Naraku to one conclusion—this kid's wisdom was certainly not inferior to his own.
Ignoring Naraku Sora, who was clearly lost in thought—Aizen could tell with a single glance that the man was up to no good—Aizen shot him a weary look and continued, "This world-piercing device was developed based on the Gates of Hell we encountered last time."
"Unlike the standard Senkaimon, it can simultaneously open passages to the World of the Living and Hueco Mundo, establishing coordinates based on spiritual pressure."
"It is also significantly more stable."
As he finished speaking, the gate opened to its limit. Several cracks appeared in the surrounding floorboards, seemingly unable to withstand the extreme pressure. Aizen frowned slightly, realizing that the internal structure of the laboratory required reinforcement.
But he would worry about the specific renovations after they returned.
"Let's go."
Aizen's figure vanished into the darkness, with Naraku Sora following close behind.
The moment they stepped through the gate, the surroundings became pitch black. It was so dark they couldn't see their own hands in front of them; even the back of the person ahead was merely a blurred silhouette. Soon, however, a massive amount of Reishi gathered beneath their feet. With a sharp sound like grinding steel, a smooth, wide path of Reishi extended straight ahead. It provided a road while simultaneously dispelling the nearby darkness.
"The Dangai is a special dimensional space. Rather than saying it connects the three worlds, it would be more accurate to say the three worlds are completely separated because of it—distinct and non-interfering," Aizen explained as he walked briskly ahead without looking back.
"This space is composed of multiple layers of overlapping severed space. Most areas are covered by a torrent of time; without guidance, it is very easy to get lost."
"Additionally, there are special lifeforms like the Kōryū, which obstruct the movement of souls, and the Kōtotsu. If you encounter them, your only option is to run."
"If you are careless and it touches you, you will be wiped away like trash."
Aizen continued, "Sometimes I even wonder if the Dangai's existence is natural or man-made."
"The former theory is somewhat hard to support. I have visited the Dangai many times and found numerous traces that do not appear natural."
"But if it is the latter, then the existence that created the Dangai is simply too extraordinary to imagine."
Naraku Sora grinned. "Well, that could only be the Soul King."
Aizen nodded noncommittally.
Whether it was in the textbooks of the Spiritual Arts Academy, the internal archives of Squad 5, or the libraries of other squads, there were mentions of the Soul King's feat of creating the world. But as for exactly how it was done, not a single word was mentioned.
Initially, Aizen believed those were merely myths fabricated by the Central 46 to maintain order. But as his understanding deepened, he gradually discovered something different. The Soul King truly existed. The Zero Division was indeed established to guard the Soul King. As for how to reach the Soul King Palace, it was said to be a secret held by the Five Noble Houses—perhaps Captain Commander Yamamoto knew something as well.
The two chatted idly as they walked, and they soon arrived at the coordinates Aizen had preset. As the ritual array expanded and the Kido incantations were softly chanted, Reishi gathered into a new gate. The sound of shattering broke the silence of the darkness, looking like digital artifacts or corrupted code. Countless patches of pure white appeared, and two figures stepped out from within.
Naraku Sora looked at the scene before him with some surprise.
The night was deep, and a silver crescent moon hung high in the sky. Below lay an endless white desert. Monstrous, massive rifts crisscrossed between the swirling sands, painting a magnificent silver-white landscape. At the edge of his vision were towering mountain ranges and deep canyons.
Despite having been here many times, Aizen couldn't help but feel moved by the unchanging, grand scenery. "To this day, the Soul Reapers' exploration of Hueco Mundo remains at less than one percent."
"Even though multiple Hueco Mundo Expeditionary Forces have been formed throughout history, they still cannot conquer this vast silver sea."
On the other hand, Naraku Sora took an interest in the sand beneath his feet. He reached down, grabbed a handful, and let it slip through his fingers. it was very smooth.
When Aizen looked over, Naraku suddenly said, "Sōsuke, I remember reading in a book that the sand in Hueco Mundo is actually formed from the spiritualized remains of Hollows."
"Does that mean we're currently standing in a mass grave?"
Aizen stared at him. "..."
What kind of thought process was that? Does a normal person even think that way?
Ignoring the man's eccentricity, Aizen—acting like a literal Doraemon—pulled a Reishi tracking radar from his pocket and began to track Arturo Plateado's movements. His primary goal in coming to Hueco Mundo was this Vasto Lorde who had achieved natural Arrancarization.
Aside from the fact that his abilities meant he couldn't be allowed to keep growing, Aizen wanted to see if he could capture him. Whether it was an Arrancar or a Vasto Lorde, both were of immense research value, let alone a combination of the two. Even after searching through all the records in the Soul Society, he had never seen a similar existence. One could say that Arturo Plateado was likely the only Menos he could encounter who had evolved to the final form.
It would be a pity to miss such an opportunity.
After Aizen adjusted the data, the tracking radar did not yet show the symbol representing Arturo Plateado. But he wasn't in a hurry. Arturo had been spotted in this vicinity last time; based on previous sightings, it wouldn't be long before they caught his trail again.
"This way."
The two figures dashed toward the direction of the hanging crescent moon.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in Hueco Mundo...
In the middle of the endless desert, two figures stood facing each other. A heavy, cloying spiritual pressure radiated outward, spreading in all directions. The soft white sand was compacted and crushed downward by the weight of it.
"A Soul Reaper?"
A creature that looked like a biological anomaly opened the several eyes on its body, staring curiously at the figure opposite him as he asked the question. His upper body was human, but his lower body resembled a pumpkin that had been inflated countless times, covered in eyes that gave off a hair-raising sensation. Just looking at him was enough to make one's sanity plummet toward madness.
Seeing that the other party didn't answer, the strange Menos shook his head. "Though your appearance is like those Soul Reapers, judging by the scent of your spiritual pressure, you seem to be of the Hollow kind."
"Are you perhaps a new form of Menos I have never seen before?"
"Tell me your name, arrogant interloper."
In the distance, atop the white sand, the figure walked forward slowly. He had turquoise hair, a white outfit, a hollow white bone mask shaped like a fish fin, and a pair of indifferent golden eyes.
"So much time has passed... has even a powerful Menos like you forgotten my name?"
"How tragic."
The strange Menos nodded, and more than fifty eyes on his massive body slowly opened, their eerie gazes fixed forward. "It seems you really are a new form of Menos."
"Then remember my name—the one who will kill and devour you."
"Zommari Rureaux—"
An arrogant smile appeared on the man's face. Like a king presiding over his own domain, his calm voice rang out across the desert: "Arturo Plateado."
The moment the words fell, the Reishi in the atmosphere gathered frantically, its density increasing rapidly. The air even became viscous, making it difficult to move. The Reishi density in Hueco Mundo was already much higher than in the Soul Society or the World of the Living; now, because of these two suffocatingly powerful beings, it felt like liquid mercury.
Zommari remained still, but an identical figure appeared abruptly in front of Arturo. It wasn't until the surging pressure enveloped Arturo that a sharp crack echoed from behind, and the figure left at the original spot slowly dissipated.
Sonído.
A fist encased in heavy bone swung down like a sledgehammer toward the figure below. Although he hadn't heard the name Arturo Plateado, the spiritual pressure—vast enough to terrify any Hollow—was enough for Zommari to give this fight his full attention.
Between Hollows, there was no such thing as friendship. There was only the pure law of the jungle. Being weak was the ultimate sin.
Boom!
A wave of sand erupted into the sky as the ground trembled, ripples expanding into the distance. It was a miss. Zommari disappeared from his spot again, following Arturo's scent closely, attempting to crush him into dust.
"Instead of trying to run, you attacked head-on," Arturo said nonchalantly. "Is it this irrational Sonído speed that gives you courage, or do you have some unknown trump card?"
The hum of Sonído was continuous as afterimages intertwined and Reishi glows flashed incessantly. One miss, two misses, three, four—
Sweat broke out on Zommari's forehead, and a hint of panic began to grow in his heart. Since devouring his own kind to become an Adjuchas, this was the first time he had encountered a Menos who was not the least bit inferior to him in terms of Sonído speed. Moreover, compared to his own all-out effort, the figure flickering through his punches was clearly relaxed and at ease. Rather than a life-and-death struggle, it was more like a game of cat and mouse.
Soon, Zommari stopped this pointless behavior. His massive, pinkish-pumpkin body hovered over the sand as he pressed his hands together like a devout believer. To Arturo's puzzled eyes, Zommari suddenly raised his right hand. The eye in the center of his palm snapped open, the black pupil radiating an indescribable eeriness.
The next moment, the air vibrated. An imperceptible ripple erupted from his body, instantly crossing the distance and landing on Arturo's wrist. A sun-shaped pattern slowly emerged.
He had succeeded.
A flash of joy appeared in Zommari's eyes, and he immediately activated his ability. Not far away, Arturo discovered that his right hand was rising uncontrollably, his fingers pressed together like a blade. The tips of his fingers were pointed directly at his own eye.
"I shall enjoy devouring you, Arturo."
Just as Zommari gave the command to pierce the skull...
Pfft—!
Dazzling blood stained the white sand below. Under Zommari's disbelieving gaze, Arturo had drawn his blade and severed his own right hand.
"A very decisive choice," Zommari said, taking a deep breath as he gained a deeper understanding of his enemy's ruthlessness. "But cutting off your right hand will only make your strength—"
His words came to an abrupt halt. With a gaze full of terror, Zommari watched as flesh sprouted from Arturo's stump. Countless muscle fibers wove together, instantly generating a perfectly whole hand.
An indifferent gaze turned toward him.
"You were saying?"
Zommari stopped talking. His fear vanished, replaced by a surge of determination. Since cutting off a hand could be healed by regeneration, he would imprint the power of dominion onto the head! He raised his right hand again, over fifty eyes staring at the figure ahead.
However, the moment before the ability could activate, Arturo vanished—so fast that even the sound of Sonído failed to trigger.
What?!
Zommari was horrified. He instinctively exploded with his full spiritual pressure. A terrifying shockwave erupted around him, and a brilliant pillar of light shot into the sky as the sand swirled.
Schwing—!
The sound of tearing flesh rang out. Arturo's blade sliced through the waves of sand, shattered the spiritual pressure, and severed the extended arm!
Intense pain washed over his body. Zommari's ugly face was filled with dread as he finally realized the horror of his opponent. Whether it was Sonído speed, high-speed regeneration, or offensive methods, this strange Menos named Arturo far surpassed him.
Without any hesitation, Zommari endured the agonizing pain and retracted his body into his pumpkin-shaped torso. This was his strongest defense, known as the Embryo Protection, which had once allowed him to hold out for three days and nights against the siege of several Adjuchas.
The next moment, a silver blade fell. It erupted with speed beyond the limits of visual observation, raining down sword light like moonlight. The "indestructible" Embryo Protection split apart, revealing Zommari's distorted form, his features twisted with the fear of inevitable death.
"I shall enjoy devouring you, Zommari Rureaux."
Before Zommari's despairing eyes, Arturo swung his blade, slicing through the body hidden inside the pumpkin-like shell. Under the moonlight, a spiritual pressure like a collapsing ocean fell upon them, crushing the defenseless Zommari. Arturo opened his mouth and, like a whale, swallowed the blood and gore mixed with white sand.
He devoured the soul along with it.
After finishing, he turned his gaze toward the crescent moon. At the horizon, a figure dressed in pure white walked slowly across the white sand. An elegant face bore a teasing smile, as if meeting an old friend.
When he saw this person, a look of clear disgust appeared on Arturo's face. But the other party didn't seem to mind, chuckling softly, "It's been a long time, Arturo."
Arturo made no effort to hide his malice, his gaze cold enough to push anyone away. "But I don't want to see you at all!"
"Szayelaporro Granz—"