Even the dignified Captain-Commander of the old era, with his legendary battle-hardened Reiatsu, would not have believed that a mere cultivator of collapsed energy could overwhelm him so easily. Yet before the stunned onlookers, that impossible sight unfolded in silence—a contest of power so utterly lopsided it shattered their sense of reason.
The moment froze them all. What they witnessed should not have belonged to this world.
But Moyu said nothing. His expression remained unreadable amid the chaos, ignoring the astonished murmurs that rippled through the shattered court. As the echoes of disbelief swelled, his own Reiatsu flared like a silent explosion, and the pure force of collapse surged from within him without a word.
No one on the opposing side had expected his strength to evolve so dramatically. The next instant, a single kick from Moyu sent his opponent hurtling through the air, skidding across the marble floor for tens of meters before crashing into a pillar.
If not for the swift intervention of the Onmitsukidō who darted forward and caught their commander midair, Moyu's strike would have launched the man clean through the window, leaving the Gotei's authority in ruins before its own eyes.
Moyu stood motionless for a breath, gaze locked on the opposing figure—the once-revered commander of Soul Society. And now, seeing him falter, Moyu felt his focus sharpen into something cold and absolute. The path forward was simple. The man before him had to die.
Murderous intent flooded his veins as he sprinted forward. The weapon in his hand, a standard Soul Reaper blade plucked from the wreckage of the command chamber, gleamed with violent light as he closed the distance.
The commander opposite him tightened his grip on his own staff-blade, watching Moyu's seamless movements with growing unease. The boy's precision was too fluid, too instinctive—his strikes carried the weight of a killer long accustomed to death. For a moment, the commander even wondered if this so-called traveler from another world was, in truth, an assassin.
But no. The thought made no sense. No assassin would appear in the back mountain, casually lecture two junior officers mid-duel, then walk into the center of the Seireitei as though fate itself bent around his will. The realization was so absurd that for a heartbeat, the commander's mind simply refused to process it.
By the time he did, Moyu's sword was already in motion again.
The commander gathered his own Reiatsu, his voice grim. "If that's the case," he said coldly, "then I'll show no mercy."
Twin layers of spiritual pressure erupted from his body—one burning red, the other liquid blue. Flames coiled around his right arm while torrents of water spiraled from his left, forming twin seals of destructive Kidō. With a sweeping motion, he unleashed them both. Twin dragons of fire and water roared forth, colliding and merging in midair as they tore toward Moyu.
Moyu's pupils flared scarlet. He moved before the attack could meet him, body flickering aside in a blur of light. The fiery torrents slammed into the ground, detonating across the tiles, but Moyu had already slipped through the gap, his blade raised for the counterstrike.
When the explosion faded, he was already behind the commander, closing in with silent, lethal precision.
Around them, the assembled officers finally realized the gravity of what they were witnessing. Gasps rippled through the ranks as the Second and Ninth Divisions rushed to reinforce their fallen superior. If the commander were to fall here, Soul Society itself would lose face beyond recovery.
Seeing the sudden movement, Moyu knew the window for victory was closing. If the others reached him, his advantage would vanish.
Without hesitation, he surged forward once more, his Reiatsu flaring like a storm tide.
The Anbu-like Onmitsukidō operatives struck back instantly, closing ranks around their leader. They moved with trained precision, but Moyu did not hesitate. He let his Reiatsu erupt in full and his eyes—those unmistakable eyes—burned crimson.
It was then that they saw it: the unmistakable gleam of a three-tomoe Sharingan, or rather, its Bleach-world equivalent—the reflection of an evolved ocular Reiatsu, capable of reading movement at the edge of time.
Gasps spread through the ranks. Even the commander faltered, disbelief flashing across his face. "You spoke of another world," he said sharply, "but that was a lie. You carry the eyes of the Uchiha—eyes that see through every illusion!"
Moyu's expression didn't change. He had no interest in explaining what they could never understand.
"Believe what you want," he said softly, raising his blade. "You won't have long to wonder." His eyes glowed brighter, the air around him trembling with killing intent. "Ask the Shinigami your questions when you see him."
Then he moved.
The strike that followed split the night with light.
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