The four immensely powerful beings descended upon Hueco Mundo under cover of darkness, their clash shaking the barren wasteland as though struck by falling stars.
Akira—though brimming with extraordinary Reiatsu—lacked the refined techniques to fully channel its potential. His true Shikai release, Excalibur, demanded significant time to prepare, leaving him vulnerable in fast-paced combat.
Meanwhile, Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck had yet to fully recover from her earlier injuries and spiritual exhaustion. That left Ulquiorra Cifer as the only combatant among them in peak condition, his calm composure belying his readiness to fight at full strength.
This imbalance played directly into Baraggan Louisenbairn's favor. The former king of Hueco Mundo grew only more formidable as the battle wore on, his overwhelming presence pressing down on them like the weight of time itself.
"Don't touch his black mist!" Akira shouted, eyes locked on the creeping Respira spreading from Baraggan's form.
"It's fine," Nelliel replied, though her voice carried strain. "We have High-Speed Regeneration."
"That won't save you!" Akira snapped. "His power is aging! If Respira touches you, your body deteriorates faster than it can heal—cells wither, organs fail, even your Reiatsu decays. Regeneration can't outpace entropy!"
Nelliel's eyes widened. "What…?"
But it was Baraggan who looked truly shaken. "You…! How do you know the secret of this king's power?!"
Baraggan prided himself on his absolute dominance. Those who learned the truth of Respira were already dust. His Fracción would never betray him, and in his centuries of rule, few had ever forced him to reveal his full ability. How could this outsider—this Shinigami—speak of it with such certainty?
"Ha! Surprised?" Nelliel smirked, rallying despite her fatigue. "Akira knows everything. He's practically omniscient!"
Baraggan's brow furrowed. The Arrancar's tone was too glib for deceit—but such knowledge defied reason.
Seizing the momentary hesitation, Akira sent a silent, psychic pulse—to Ulquiorra.
"Hmph. It matters not whether you understand my power," Baraggan sneered, regaining his composure. "All things kneel before time. You will rot like the rest."
As he raised his axe to strike, Akira swung his blade downward with decisive force.
"Wind King Barrier!"
Whoosh!
A colossal vortex of wind erupted across the dunes, whipping sand and debris into a blinding maelstrom. The storm swallowed light and sound, momentarily severing line of sight.
Baraggan remained unmoved. "Pathetic tricks. Your Reiatsu still clings to me like a shadow. You cannot escape."
"I never meant to," Akira's voice echoed from within the gale—calm, resolute, and closer than expected.
As the dust settled, only Akira remained—Ulquiorra and Nelliel had vanished.
"You let those two Arrancar escape?" Baraggan growled, his voice thick with disdain. "You sacrificed yourself for… what? A solo death wish? What a foolish decision. Without them, you'll fall even faster."
Akira let out a low, dark chuckle. "Who gave you the right to assume I needed them?"
Baraggan's eyes narrowed.
Akira's Reiatsu was undeniably immense—rivaling his own. Could he have misjudged this Shinigami? For the first time in centuries, the former King of Hueco Mundo felt a prickle of uncertainty.
This isn't just power… it's something else.
Baraggan had never encountered a Shinigami whose Reiatsu alone defied reason—dense, oppressive, almost inhuman—while showing no signs of a Zanpakutō release or conventional combat style. It made no sense. And that very absurdity unsettled him.
"So… you saw them as dead weight?" Baraggan sneered, forcing confidence into his voice. "How arrogant. Very well. This king will make you choke on that pride. Before your end, you'll beg for the mercy you so carelessly cast aside!"
---
Tens of thousands of meters away, Ulquiorra dragged Nelliel through the barren sands of Hueco Mundo, widening the gap between them and the battlefield.
"Stop! We can't just leave Akira behind!" Nelliel shouted, her voice cracking. For the first time, she used his name—not "the Shinigami," not "that stranger"—but Akira.
Ulquiorra halted. After a beat of silence, he said, "He ordered me to take you and flee."
"He what? That's insane! Baraggan's power—he'll—"
"His Resurrección nullifies High-Speed Regeneration," Ulquiorra interrupted flatly. "Against him, Arrancar like us are at a severe disadvantage. Akira knew that."
Nelliel's fists trembled. "But Akira isn't like us! If Baraggan's miasma touches him, he'll age just like anyone else!"
"I don't know his plan," Ulquiorra admitted. "But he was certain. And he made it clear: your presence would distract him."
Nelliel stared at him, bewildered. "You're just… obeying him? Without question?"
"Yes."
The simplicity of his answer stunned her into silence.
What neither of them knew was that Akira had orchestrated their retreat. The smoke wasn't just cover—it was a signal.
Two reasons drove his decision:
First, having Ulquiorra and Nelliel nearby would have made the fight easier—but Akira didn't want easy. He needed the pressure, the edge of true peril.
Second—and far more critical—was the timing.
> [Congratulations, Host! You've survived until midnight! Daily Lottery Reward Activated!]
Just as the system's countdown hit zero, Akira had forced their retreat to ensure he faced Baraggan alone, maximizing the survival difficulty.
And the reward?
It shimmered in his mind's eye—a prize unlike any before.
His gamble had paid off.
Merry Christmas 🎄 🎁 🎁