Chapter 99: The Reborn Szayelaporro
Outside the shattered remains of the palace, Ishida's sharp eyes caught a sudden, terrible sight—Pesche was unexpectedly pierced through by a gleaming blade. His body jolted violently, blood seeping where the weapon had struck. Looking upward with a mix of shock and disbelief, Ishida's gaze fixed on the horrifying figure behind Pesche, Szayelaporro Granz, who had been presumed reduced to ash, now standing alive and unscathed.
"You bastard!!" The words spilled out in a furious roar.
Without hesitation, Ishida sprang into action. Drawing his bow with practiced ease, he swiftly nocked a compact spiritual arrow, focusing his Reiatsu into it until the tip flickered with radiant energy. "Die!!" he shouted, and the arrow shot forth with deadly precision.
The distorted Arrow filled with reiatsu surged through the charged air, targeting Szayelaporro directly—a rapid, streaking missile of spiritual power.
Szayelaporro, cool and unflinching, adjusted his glasses with a deliberate flick, then raised his hand calmly. From his fingertips emerged a strange purple phantom bullet, charged with his spiritual energy, which collided with Ishida's arrow, dispelling it effortlessly in a flash of warped light.
With a cold, calculating smile, Szayelaporro plunged his Zanpakutō into Pesche's side. The blade seemed to siphon every ounce of spiritual energy from Pesche's body, drawing a low moan from him. Szayelaporro then licked his lips with a long, thin tongue, his eyes gleaming with dark satisfaction. A sudden kick sent Pesche's limp form skidding across the sandy ground several meters away.
"This power… it's astonishing!" Szayelaporro murmured, his voice dripping with perverse delight.
His gaze glazed over with a curious intoxication as he spread his arms wide, basking in newfound strength. A brilliant green light erupted from his body, engulfing his Zanpakutō in vibrant green flames that danced and licked at the blade's edges, causing it to resemble Pesche's.
Meanwhile, Pesche coughed painfully, blood pooling at the corners of his cracked lips. Ishida rushed to his side, concern flashing in his eyes. "How are you holding up?" he asked, bracing Pesche against him.
Pesche swallowed hard and weakly coughed again before answering, "It's… dire. Szayelaporro has drained all my Reiatsu."
His body trembled violently; he coughed up thick, black blood once more—a grim testament to how deeply Szayelaporro's ambush had ravaged his internal organs.
"You scoundrel…" Ishida hissed, his fury burning brightly, but beneath the anger was a deeper confusion. How could Szayelaporro, someone he distinctly remembered being turned to ash moments before, now stand before them alive and well?
"Oh ho ho…" Szayelaporro's lips curled into a sinister grin as he looked directly at Ishida, amusement glittering in his cold eyes.
"Perplexed, Quincy? Wondering how I've returned after what you thought was my end?"
"What a pity," he continued smoothly, gripping his Zanpakutō tightly and taking slow, deliberate steps toward Pesche and Ishida. "You see, a true scientist never gambles with his own safety without absolute certainty."
"Yes, you did kill me earlier," he said, his voice dripping with mock pity. "But that… wasn't truly me. Did you not notice?"
Szayelaporro chuckled softly and added, "Explaining this to you would be quite taxing for your intellect, so let me simplify it."
He made a small gesture with his hand, and suddenly a glass container materialized in his grasp. Inside it, two brain-like objects, roughly the size of a newborn's head, floated ominously. Human faces seemed to cling eerily to these brains, distorting the image into something grotesque and unnerving.
Pesche squinted at the jar, struggling weakly to rise as a shadow of memory flickered behind his eyes. "Is… that him?" he murmured in disbelief.
Szayelaporro's eyebrows lifted in surprise, then a slow realization dawned on him. "You remember?"
"Of course," Pesche answered, still pale but steadying himself. "After all, you are part of the earliest Arrancars. It's no wonder this sticks in your mind."
Ishida narrowed his eyes, suspicion heavy in his tone. "Pesche, what exactly is he talking about?"
The green-haired man offered what small strength he could to explain. "It's not some vast secret; during the initial selection for the Espada, there was one individual… an anomaly with a unique power. He crossed Lord Fiander, yet was somehow allowed to live."
Pesche's voice grew quieter, tinged with a mix of fear and respect. "I remember because his ability was extraordinary."
"He could absorb other hollows, to augment his own Reiatsu. He was an extraordinary Hollow among the Menos Grande."
Ishida scowled as he absorbed the implications. "Absorbing others to grow stronger? That's certainly dangerous."
His expression darkened. "Dangerous? Ha. Don't mention that in front of Master Fiander. That individual… was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Master Fiander struck him down, leaving him to die.."
Szayelaporro's eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "Unexpectedly, I've taken possession of his body now."
His voice lowered, serious and cold. "This situation… is deeply troubling."
Stepping toward Pesche, Szayelaporro offered a crooked smile. "Now that you're powerless to escape, why not make a deal? Share the source of your power—your knowledge—and I'll spare your life. What do you say?"
Pesche's eyes flashed with fiery hatred despite his frail condition. He lunged forward, shaking hands gripping his trembling blade in a desperate attack. But his weakened body betrayed him, and instead, he stumbled and collapsed.
With a swift, graceful motion, Szayelaporro sidestepped the attack and flicked his long hair over his shoulder, a malicious grin unfurling on his lips. Light danced from his fingertips.
Boom!
A thick cloud of dark smoke exploded between them, swallowing the scene in a dense haze. Instinctively, Ishida dragged Pesche back just in time to narrowly evade Szayelaporro's follow-up strike.
" Don't give up because of your current condition!" Ishida urged, wiping sweat from his brow as a grim urgency filled his voice.
Peixue coughed again, this time quieter, yet his eyes shone with stubborn defiance. "Sorry… for the trouble."
"No time for apologies," Ishida said firmly. "We have to find a way out—now."
Before they could move, a chilling breeze crept past Ishida's ear. Spinning around instinctively, he saw Szayelaporro standing unnervingly close, a predatory smirk playing on his lips.
Leaning close, Szayelaporro whispered, "You want to run?"
"That's not the behavior of a good boy~" His tone was cruelly mocking, and as he spoke, ominous green flames flickered to life on his shoulder.
A low, sinister hiss seemed to emanate from the flames, which crept silently across Ishida's skin. A dull, spreading ache radiated from his shoulder down his left arm, as though the flames were poisoning his very blood. Slowly, his consciousness began to waver, threatened by the toxin infiltrating his system.
"Don't be so smug! Go to hell!" Pesche growled through clenched teeth. Summoning every last shred of willpower, he unleashed a concentrated Cero blast at point-blank range, the destructive force slamming directly into Szayelaporro's face.
Seizing the brief moment of chaos, Pesche wielded his Zanpakutō in a deadly arc—and in a flash, Ishida's left arm was severed.
A sharp hiss escaped Ishida's lips as thick blood gushed forth. Pesche, despite his injuries, lunged forward and dragged Ishida away toward the shattered palace debris for cover.
"Sorry," Pesche gasped, blood dripping from every movement. "But if I didn't remove your arm, the toxin will spread through your body. Once it reaches your brain… it's over."
Ishida bit down hard on his lip, sweat mingling with blood, but nodded weakly. The excruciating pain from the severed limb contorted his face, every nerve screaming in agony. Gritting his teeth, he summoned the strength to retreat alongside Pesche.
In the thickening haze of smoke and dust from the explosion, Szayelaporro's figure solidified once more. Dark anticipation lit his eyes as he watched them flee.
"They actually got away? Fascinating…" he muttered, the light of the green flames casting eerie shadows across his sharp features.
"But do they truly think they can escape?"
He paused, considering. "Is this power granted by Fiander?" His voice was low and thoughtful.
A strange feeling writhed in his gut—an inexplicable connection, an odd compatibility with a hollow's soul that defied logic.
"It seems our former Espada hides more secrets than we imagined. We must investigate." With that, Szayelaporro vanished back into the choking dust, plunging the battlefield into a profound silence.
On the outskirts, another fierce battle raged. Dondachaka faced off against Nnoitra, who had reverted to his four-armed, fearsome sword form. The fight was brutal and merciless.
Dondachaka's body was riddled with fresh cuts, each one bleeding profusely as crescent-shaped wounds from Nnoitra's immense sickle marked his skin. Blood soaked his crimson robes as he struggled against the overwhelming assault.
Sado stood just beyond the fray, his heart pounding with anxiety. Yet he dared not rush to aid his comrade—Tesra Nnoitra's loyal subordinate, watched him like a hawk, ready to strike at the slightest sign of interference.
"What can I do, Ichigo?" Sado muttered under his breath, helpless as he watched the relentless beating.
Nnoitra's superior control showed—the swift motion of his four arms unleashed a near-constant barrage of blows. Every few seconds a new cut opened across Dondachaka's battered form.
But despite the aggression, the wounds were deliberately shallow. Nnoitra took pleasure in the battle itself, treating the fight more like a game playing with his prey than a swift kill.
Slowly, the black flames that once shielded Dondachaka began to wane under the sustained onslaught. His spiritual energy surged toward its limits in a desperate fight for survival.
Pushed to the brink, Dondachaka bore the pain and pressed onward.
"Is that all you've got? You're still nowhere near strong enough!" Nnoitra taunted mercilessly.
Blood blurred Dondachaka's vision, coating his eyes in crimson haze as every shadow and shape shifted to the color of his own suffering.
"Such arrogance," Nnoitra sneered before summoning yet another pair of arms, bringing his total to six. He grasped Dondachaka's wrists. His other hands curled into fists, landing blow after brutal blow against Dondachaka's face.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The sickening impacts echoed across the battlefield, threatening to extinguish Dondachaka.
Sado's fists clenched tightly, utterly unable to bear the sight any longer. Gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, ready to intervene.
Suddenly, a long, gleaming flying slash charged with spiritual particles sliced through the air toward Nnoitra.
"Swish~"
Nnoitra barely shifted, turning his head to the flying slash. A thin trickle of blood traced down his cheek.
He licked the crimson streak lazily and grabbed Dondachaka by the throat, effortlessly lifting his powerful form to glare at the source of the attack.
The green-haired Pesche surged forward alongside Ishida, their Reiatsu crackling with renewed determination as they charged into the fray.
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