Kilometers away, a figure whose whole body was covered in flames slowly stood up from the ground.
He looked down at his hands wrapped in fire and seemed surprised at his condition.
"Ahem, cough, cough… you feel it, right?
I have already put the Zanka no Tachi, Nishi: Zanjitsu Gokui on your body. In the days to come, you will be burned by the flames of the sun's core every single moment.
Even if you survive until today, these flames will never go away."
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni coughed up blood one after another, but looked at Aiyan as if he were staring at a corpse:
"Even if you can resist the flames of Ryūjin Jakka for a moment, can you resist them forever?"
"This posture of yours, like turning into a black hole, must consume an enormous amount of Reiatsu. Even you cannot maintain it endlessly."
"Especially while you endure the burning of the Sun Prison Garb — your Reiatsu consumption will skyrocket. Once your strength weakens, once your Reiatsu decreases, the agony of the fifteen million–degree sun will overwhelm you. And after you have been tortured to your limits… I will completely erase you from the Three Realms."
Although his body was battered, covered in bruises and wounds, Yamamoto still revealed a victorious smile.
"Amazing. Since I came to Seireitei… since I became a Shinigami… You are the first one to force my back onto the ground."
Aiyan, bathed in terrifying flames, suddenly turned his head to face Yamamoto. Although his expression could not be seen clearly through the fire, his voice carried both admiration and surprise.
It was as if he truly marveled that the old man had managed to knock him down, even if only for a moment.
"Is… is this the sort of thing you're concerned about?"
When Yamamoto Genryūsai heard this, the evil smile on his old face instantly froze.
A moment ago, he thought Aiyan had been frightened and worried about his condition.
After all, he was wearing the sun itself.
But the man before him had no trace of fear — no trace of concern — even while clad in the Sun Prison Garb that could never be taken off.
"If not?"
Aiyan glanced at Yamamoto, almost amused, as though he had already read the Captain-Commander's thoughts.
"Are you referring to the Sun Prison Garb? Wearing the sun? Of course I know."
The moment the words fell, Aiyan's closed eyes suddenly snapped open.
The originally dark pupils were swallowed by a brilliant, destructive gold, as though two suns were embedded within his sockets.
At the same time…
His body began to rise. From nearly 1.9 meters tall, he grew to three meters. The golden light covering his body sometimes flowed like water, sometimes burned like fire. As his eyes and figure changed, his Reiatsu spread outward, blazing and heavy as the sun itself.
For a moment, even Aizen, Shihōin Yoruichi, and the others watching from afar felt a terrifying illusion.
It was as though a third sun had appeared in the Three Realms.
The first — the true sun hanging in the sky over Soul Society.
The second — Yamamoto's Zanka no Tachi.
The third — Aiyan.
"I am the only one in Heaven and under Heaven. It always annoyed me that every time I entered this state, my clothes would burn away. So I want to thank you — for solving this problem with your Sun Prison Garb."
Despite being clad in Yamamoto's flames, there was no discomfort on Aiyan's face. Instead, he looked strangely comfortable, even at ease.
"You…"
Seeing this, Yamamoto Genryūsai felt as if he were facing the sun itself.
"As you can see… I am also the sun."
Aiyan stepped forward toward Yamamoto, heat exploding from every inch of his towering frame. Wherever his feet landed, the ground melted instantly. The rock beneath turned into molten magma, bubbling and spitting smoke into the air.
"How could such a ridiculous thing happen! Don't think that just because you wield a little flame, you can call yourself the sun!"
"In front of Ryūjin Jakka, your power is nothing more than that of a flying insect. And yet you dare to compare yourself to the mountains!?"
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni found it intolerable. The Soul Society could not allow another "sun" to exist alongside him. To him, such arrogance was unforgivable — an unforgivable crime against the Gotei 13 itself.
He thrust the Ryūjin Jakka into the ground, summoning flames that cracked the very earth.
"Zanka no Tachi, Minami: Kaka Jūman'okushi Daisōjin!"
The ground split apart. From the rising inferno, the ashes of countless dead — those who had perished under his blade across a thousand years — awakened. Blackened skeletons emerged, forming an undying army of the dead, endlessly advancing toward Aiyan.
Click.
Watching the swarming skeletal legion, Aiyan calmly raised his right hand, fingers pressed together like the edge of a blade. With a casual motion, he slashed downward.
A radiant edge, blazing like the core of the sun, burst forth.
In an instant, the golden light swept across the battlefield, drowning the endless undead.
The brilliance vanished as quickly as it appeared.
The army of skeletons was gone.
All reduced to ashes in an instant, as though they had never been.
The effect was eerily similar to that of Yamamoto's Ryūjin Jakka.
"What now?"
Aiyan stepped through the path the skeleton army had just marched, walking directly up to Yamamoto Genryūsai. He loomed over him, forcing the Captain-Commander to look upward to see him at all.
"Am I about to be defeated?"
For the first time in his thousand years, Yamamoto felt uneasy. Powerlessness. The creeping thought that he might actually lose.
"It seems you understand. Tapping this great mountain of yours is nothing more than child's play to me."
Aiyan's voice struck like a blade, piercing Yamamoto's heart.
"Nonsense!"
Yamamoto roared. His remaining arm summoned every drop of Reiatsu he had left, channeling it into Ryūjin Jakka. With a furious swing, he unleashed its power.
Boom!
Violent, scorching flames burst forth from the blade, erupting into a flaming slash that devoured everything before it. The heat of the sun's core and the unmatched sharpness of the strike engulfed Aiyan entirely.
The ground beneath was obliterated. A mountain behind them was reduced to rubble and ash.
Snap.
Before the flaming slash had even dispersed, Yamamoto felt resistance against his blade.
A resistance he had never felt before.
It was as though his sword had struck against another sun.
As the fire cleared, his pupils shrank to pinpricks.
Ryūjin Jakka had struck Aiyan's body squarely.
Not only that — it had struck his neck, the most fatal point of all.
"The strongest Shinigami in a thousand years. You are strong. But I am stronger."
"This is true for Shinigami… And it is true for Zanpakutō."
Aiyan raised his hand.
Just the motion alone made Yamamoto's scalp prickle in terror. Instinctively, he used Shunpo to retreat, as though only distance could protect him from the death that loomed.
"Such a graceful Shunpo. You came so far in an instant. Unfortunately for you… distance means nothing to me."
Aiyan did not pursue it. He simply let Yamamoto retreat, watching him with calm indifference. Then, raising his right hand, he slowly curled his fingers.
In the space above his palm, a blade of pure golden light — a Zanpakutō born of energy itself — materialized.
"Farewell, Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni."