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The battle had drained Grimmjow. His physical strength was spent, his body marked by deep wounds, and the once-crushing pressure of his Reiatsu had weakened to a pale shadow of its earlier force.
"It looks like you're already half-dead," Shiraha said, shaking her head as she read the Espada's faltering pulse through Observation Haki. "I'll be generous and send you to join those two Arrancar you lost."
Compared to the height of his power, Grimmjow was diminished—still stronger than most captains, yet a step short of the highest-ranked. To Shiraha, finishing him now was hardly a challenge.
"Gravity Chaos."
The air distorted as Shiraha shifted the pull of gravity around her foe. The crushing weight vanished from Grimmjow's body, and he found himself lifted, drifting hundreds of meters into the sky—only for the force to slam back with seventyfold intensity. The blue-armored predator plummeted, tearing through the air toward the waiting earth.
"Bakudō Number Seventy-Five: Five Iron Pillars. Bakudō Number Seventy-Nine: Nine Obsidian Seals."
Shiraha, wary of Grimmjow's resilience, invoked both high-level binding spells in swift succession, abandoning the incantations for speed. Five massive iron columns pinned his limbs and head, while nine black bindings of dense spiritual energy locked the surrounding space.
Even so, the Espada's strength was monstrous. "Shinigami… do you think this can hold me?" His blue Reiatsu flared violently, the Kidō restraints trembling under the strain, cracks forming as he roared in defiance.
But gravity had no mercy.
With a deafening crash, Grimmjow struck the ground under seventyfold pressure, the impact ripping a crater a thousand meters wide and shaking the landscape like an earthquake. Fractures spread outward for ten kilometers, the earth splintering into bottomless chasms.
Grimmjow staggered from the depths of the pit, coughing blood, his chest caved in from the blow. Yet his eyes burned with defiance. "Is that all, Shinigami? You can't kill me like this."
Shiraha's reply was cold. "Bakudō Number Ninety-Nine: Kin."
Kidō-forged leather straps etched with ancient spells wrapped around Grimmjow's arms, pinning them in place. Nails driven deep into the bindings locked him immobile. Tessai's teachings at the Urahara Shop had refined Shiraha's mastery of these advanced techniques, and against a weakened Grimmjow, this was more than enough to hold him for thirty precious seconds.
"Fire Festival."
In an instant, Shiraha was high in the heavens. With gravity and Haki, she swept her awareness through the upper atmosphere, locking onto over a dozen meteorites more than a hundred meters across. Purple waves of gravitational pull lanced from her hand, and the burning stones began their descent.
Within seconds they pierced the cloud layer, each a blazing sphere trailing fire, drawn unerringly toward the trapped Espada.
The sky erupted.
The first impact swallowed the battlefield in an inferno. The second split the ground open. The third, and all those after, merged into a continuous roar as everything within ten kilometers was obliterated, the land reshaped into a molten wasteland.
When the flames eased, a bottomless pit yawned where Grimmjow had stood. Shiraha's Haki swept inside—and she found him still alive. Barely.
His body was charred, right arm gone, mask shattered. Even so, the Bakudō still held him. His stubborn vitality was almost admirable.
"If that's the case," Shiraha murmured, "I'll use my strongest strike to send you off. I've never tested the fall of a thousand-meter meteorite."
She reached higher—past the thin air, into the void—and found it: a single colossal stone a kilometer wide. One pull of purple gravity locked it in place, then drew it down at a speed even greater than the smaller meteors before.
A blazing sun descended.
Grimmjow's instincts screamed, but the bindings held fast. He roared, forcing every shred of Reiatsu through his body. "Move! Damn it, MOVE!" But the Kidō and the crushing gravity left him frozen in place, watching death plummet toward him.
The meteor struck.
The blast erased everything within a hundred kilometers, reducing stone, soil, and spirit to dust. A sea of fire spread for tens of thousands of meters, the sky lit in molten orange.
At the point of impact, Grimmjow's body was consumed in an instant—heat and shockwave tearing him apart until nothing remained but drifting spirit particles.
Espada Number Six, Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, was no more.
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