A sweeping wind filled the sky, carrying fine white sand that invaded everyone's noses, mouths, and sleeves.
Facing the endless wind and sand, Asano Kiyoshi closed his eyes slightly. The concentration of spirit particles in the air here was so high that they were practically liquid — you almost didn't need to eat to survive in this place. Just breathing in these spirit particles was enough to sustain a spiritual body.
Still, even if you didn't need food, having some of Sister Unohana's delicious dishes once in a while was a comfort for the soul.
Stepping on the slightly loose sand, Kiyoshi glanced at the weary faces of the people ahead and let out a soft sigh.
This was already the second day since they entered Hueco Mundo.
This expedition team consisted of twenty people, each roughly at the level of a squad's fifteenth seat. The leader was Marutani Naoto, Seventh Seat of Squad 11 — a tall, burly man.
His reason for volunteering to come to Hueco Mundo was simple. He hadn't committed any crime, nor was he here to make a name for himself. He simply craved the thrill of battling on the edge of life and death, so he volunteered for this lawless, exiled expedition.
Kiyoshi's expression turned complicated as he looked at Marutani Naoto, whose body was spattered with fresh blood.The reason was clear: the blood on Marutani's body was not only that of Hollows — it was also from Shinigami.
It had happened on their very first day. As soon as they left Seireitei's surveillance and entered Hueco Mundo, the expedition team — already a mix of desperate outcasts — fell instantly into chaos.
One Shinigami had tried to take advantage of the disorder and drew his Zanpakutō to decapitate Marutani from behind. But Marutani had sidestepped the strike and, with a single slash, cleaved the man from the top of his head clean down in two.
His innards spilled everywhere, blood spraying six or seven meters away. Kiyoshi had seen those dismembered pieces land right in front of him, and he'd almost thrown up on the spot.
Back in Rukongai, when he'd cleared out the Enguchi gang, he'd killed plenty of people — but that was mostly by clean beheading or blasting them apart with Kidō. He'd never witnessed anything this raw and visceral.
Marutani seemed to notice Kiyoshi's reaction. He turned his head and flashed a twisted grin, the dried blood on his face making him look like a demon straight out of hell.
He then looked down at the body still twitching in two pieces and sneered, saying to the group:
"Listen up! The mission we were given for this Hueco Mundo expedition is to eliminate 300 small Hollows! I don't care how you do it, or what you do — as long as you don't kill each other, I won't interfere. Just get the job done!"
Kiyoshi remembered how Marutani's face had lit up with an unsettling grin at that point:
"Of course, like I said, as long as you don't kill each other, I don't care about anything else… including whether you live or die!"
And he meant it.
The corpse Marutani had split open was now leaking a strong, unfamiliar spiritual pressure that, to the Hollows lurking nearby, was an irresistible treat.
Within moments, Kiyoshi could feel multiple Hollow spiritual pressures closing in from every direction. They varied in strength, but every one radiated a sickening, primal bloodlust — the raw, predatory intent of pure killers.
The incoming spirit pressures sealed off their surroundings instantly. The air thickened like glue, making it feel like he was submerged underwater — even raising an arm felt difficult.
Then, the sand beneath their feet began to tremble. On the horizon, dozens of small Hollows, each wearing bone masks, charged at full speed.
A rough count put their numbers at around twenty. If someone could organize the remaining nineteen Shinigami properly, twenty small Hollows wouldn't be much of a problem.
But the problem was Marutani Naoto himself — their strongest fighter, and instead of rallying the group, he was completely unhinged. He just laughed like a madman, blood still dripping from his Zanpakutō, as he charged the Hollow pack alone.
Seeing this, Kiyoshi's face darkened.
This brute… as the main combat power, he's acting without any sense!
Strong as he was, even he couldn't fight twenty Hollows alone without taking hits. For most Shinigami, one bad hit could be fatal. If he died, the others would lose morale, and even if they survived this wave, they'd lose half their numbers.
Kiyoshi called out to the others:
"Everyone, release your Zanpakutō and support him! Kidō-type users, stay back and provide support. Two against one — eliminate the Hollows quickly, then help the others—"
But before he could even finish, some Shinigami bolted the other way, not sparing him a single glance.
To them, completing the mission, comrades' lives, Shinigami duty — none of it mattered. As long as they themselves survived, they didn't care about anything else.
Watching the three who fled, Kiyoshi fell silent. He couldn't understand it — if they'd only listened, they could have killed all the Hollows with minimal losses.
But instead, they'd chosen to run. And if they failed to meet the quota, Seireitei wouldn't open the Garganta or Dangai to let them back in. Once they were separated from the main group, being torn apart by Hollows was only a matter of time.
By all logic, it made no sense to act so stupidly.
But as the saying goes, human diversity is a fact of life.
Watching the fleeing figures, Kiyoshi shook his head slightly.
"Good advice can't save those who are already dead in spirit…"
Sure enough!
Moments later, several shadows burst out from beneath the sand. The "shlick" of flesh being pierced rang out.
Kiyoshi watched the deserters' bodies torn into seven or eight pieces — four small Hollows now drenched in fresh blood.
Thick blood clung to their ghastly bone masks, playing a ghastly symphony of death.
Under the pale moonlight, a scene of blood-red hell unfolded.
T/N: For up to 30 chapters ahead on my translations, become a p@tron at [email protected]/LordHipposApostle