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Golden light fell across the desert, enveloping earth and sky alike, swallowing Moyu and the others within. The moment he recognized it as Negación, Moyu understood Aizen's intent. All talk of tactics and command was nothing but a smokescreen. Once Negación descended, this land and Hueco Mundo itself were divided into two worlds. Aizen had never planned to crush them here—he only sought to buy time. By now, he was surely moving toward the present world.
The birth of Bahamut was no coincidence. Aizen had noticed the slash Moyu revealed back during team building, and forged this Espada as a countermeasure. To devastate land on the scale of a thousand miles required more than ordinary strength, and Bahamut was the instrument chosen for the task. Only by cutting him down could Moyu press forward toward Las Noches.
"Did you see through it?" Bahamut's deep voice reverberated as his flesh writhed, bones cracking like firewood under pressure. "Then try breaking this world. Lord Aizen awaits you…" His monstrous body, crushed to the ground moments before, shuddered and then—astonishingly—rose again beneath the crushing weight of Moyu's Reiatsu.
"Strange," Moyu said calmly, eyes steady. "How exactly did Aizen grant you such power?" He did not panic despite being sealed within another dimension. He knew such an enormous Negación could not last; Bahamut's Reiatsu could not sustain it indefinitely. Time itself was on his side.
At Moyu's question, a shadow of sorrow flickered in Bahamut's eyes. "Once… this land was mine. But there are no subjects now. A king who loses is no king at all!" His roar shattered the desert silence. The hulking figure raised blood-stained arms high, waves of spiritual pressure surging, before smashing his colossal fists down toward Moyu.
"Die, inferior existence!"
The impact split the desert like thunder. Dust and sand tore into whirlwinds, a shockwave howling outward. Yet when Bahamut peered down, expecting ruin, his pupils contracted. Moyu still stood there.
"This is the crushing weight of the Thousand-Mile Territory," Bahamut gasped, disbelief etched across his monstrous features.
Moyu's brows lifted slightly. "Territory, loser… So you are the Wang Xu, the so-called King born of Hueco Mundo years ago?"
Bahamut's body trembled, his silence betraying truth. His arms bulged like towers of stone, muscles knotted, power redoubling. He forced his strength higher, refusing to yield.
"It doesn't matter," Moyu sighed, his voice flat. "Whether you speak or not changes nothing. The past is gone. Your future is failure. If death is what you seek, I can give it with a turn of my palm."
Even as they clashed, the others engaged their foes. Ruby, grinning savagely, lunged at Zaraki Kenpachi, eager to tear into the most violent-looking of the captains. Unohana Retsu found herself opposite Grimmjow, the highest-ranked Espada among them. Zommari, swift and calculating, turned his gaze upon Nilu, convinced his speed would overwhelm the traitor. And Aroniero—mask riddled with twin mouths—fixed his grotesque stare on Moyu once more, laughter oozing through the hollows in his face.
"Freedom from the sun feels so sweet," Aroniero hissed, pulling free his mask to reveal the shifting liquid within, two ghastly visages swimming in red fluid, chuckling obscenely. "Bahamut, shall we lend you a hand? If you require it, say so. Otherwise, those Shinigami over there will serve nicely… Delicious souls." His twin voices overlapped, dripping with malice.
Moyu noted Aroniero's movement but did not interfere. Rangiku and Isane, though far weaker, could hold out long enough against him until Moyu was free. Besides, curiosity gnawed at him. In a world where Shiba Kaien had not been devoured by Metastacia, what abilities would Aroniero reveal now? Was he another piece in Aizen's hand?
Bahamut's fists crashed down in relentless succession, shockwaves pounding against Moyu's barrier. Each blow was feral, unrefined, yet devastating in sheer mass. His attacks mirrored Zaraki Kenpachi's ferocity—save that his weapons were fists of stone and flesh. Before him, a vast translucent barrier shimmered, absorbing the punishment.
Cracks spidered across its surface. Bahamut's lips curled into a grim smile. Break it, and the Shinigami before him would fall. Break it, and he could return triumphant, reclaim the Forest of Menos, and crown himself king once more. For that goal, he would give everything.
But just as the barrier seemed ready to shatter, Moyu's calm voice rang out.
"The proud son of heaven. The iron wall. The dragon's stride. The lion's roar. The tiger's fury. The wolf's run. Split the heavens before the world collapses."
"Bakudō #81: Splitting Void."
The fractured barrier surged with light and reformed whole, stronger than before. Bahamut froze, shock etched deep into his brutal features. The chant—used to reinforce a Kidō released without incantation—had restored the shield completely.
His fists hammered anew, desperate, frenzied, yet each strike fell against unyielding force. No progress, only futility.
"Your strength is spent on propping up the world beneath your feet," Moyu observed coldly. "If that is your limit, then this fight ends here."
His voice cut through the roars as an unseen weight descended. It was not merely Reiatsu—it was pressure vast enough to smother the desert itself. Bahamut's offensive collapsed as if the world itself pressed him down.
Boom.
The sand erupted. A massive crater opened beneath him as his colossal body buckled. Knees struck the ground, bones groaned under the strain, and his mind went blank in shock.
Moyu dismissed the barrier, stepping forward with unhurried calm, his shadow falling across Bahamut's collapsed form.
"You overlooked something," he said. "When a Shinigami releases Shikai, his Reiatsu rises further still. From beginning to end, Aizen never placed his hopes on you. To him, you are nothing but a pawn, discarded the moment your use ends."
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