The heat rolled over the ground; everything steamed.
Both of Shuuichi's arms charred to ash—but new ones sprouted from his torso at once.
Endless regeneration.
Power from fragments of the Soul King—that was the backbone that let him cast a Hadō with such brutal side effects.
Before Shuuichi lay a body almost reduced to charcoal.
"Fourth Evil—Oni Lives."
Kurando's lips wriggled; a faint syllable scraped out of his mouth.
Shuuichi frowned, stepped in, and drew a clean cut.
A head fell.
He respected Kurando's stubborn will and terrifying vitality.
But he would not show mercy.
With a hiss, the sky tore open—a rift unlike a Garganta (Black Cavity).
Two black pillars plunged down, spearing what was left of Kurando's weakened body and skull, then snatching him away.
In less than two seconds, the heavens were dark red again.
As if nothing had happened.
Shuuichi only stared at the spot where the rift had been for a few seconds, then turned to leave.
That wasn't something he should covet right now.
The night wasn't done.
On the other end of Seireitei, Rennosuke lay unwilling amid the rubble.
On a ruined roof within sight, his Zanpakutō stood stabbed into the tiles. Sadly, the not-even-twenty meters between them might as well have been heaven and earth.
"The Kasumiooji won't succeed. They'll never pass the Captain-Commander's gate."
Both arms severed, Reiatsu scraping bottom, Rennosuke saw his own end.
"I don't work for the Kasumiooji."
The speaker was a blind man with an afro in a shihakushō—just a seated officer by rank, but with Reiatsu not inferior to an average captain, and wielding a power most Shinigami only dreamed of: Bankai (Final Release).
Since when had captain-level become so cheap?
Rennosuke didn't understand.
"Then you'd better make sure the Kasumiooji get the last laugh. If they don't, with a captain's blood on your blade, there's nowhere left to go."
Rennosuke looked at the sword reflecting distant firelight and closed his eyes.
"I was going to retire in two years…"
A bitter smile touched his lips in the last instant before death.
Meanwhile, Kensei of the Ninth was still tied up in Rukongai by Hollows out of Hueco Mundo.
Jūshirō of the Thirteenth was still in the World of the Living.
Retsu of the Fourth had casually finished off the four foolhardy Hollowfied Shinigami, then merely looked toward the nobles' district—with no intention whatsoever of going to help.
That left only one captain free to move in Seireitei: Kirio of the Twelfth.
And standing outside the Twelfth's doors was the bespectacled current Fifth Division vice-captain—Aizen Sōsuke.
He'd been there for quite some time, neither entering the Twelfth nor leaving.
He was simply waiting. If Kirio so much as thought of stepping out tonight, she would share the fate of those other two captains.
With no captain support for the moment, Seireitei looked like a lamb for the slaughter before the Bakkōtō (Parasitic Zanpakutō) operatives whose power had surged through Hollowfication.
Destruction, slaughter, madness—those were tonight's indelible labels.
In the Kasumiooji's main hall, Gyoukaku stood, almost rapt at the sight around him.
All those years of work—so he could stand here openly. Now he could push even further.
If the Bakkōtō operatives butchered the nobles tonight and inflicted more than half casualties on the Gotei 13, he'd have leverage to negotiate with Soul Society. He believed that the rest—including Genryūsai—would not want unrest at this level to continue.
If only he could survive tonight…
For the first time, Gyoukaku felt his longed-for seat was within reach.
"Gyoukaku-dono."
A familiar voice sounded behind him.
Gyoukaku didn't look back. "Our plan moved up, Shuuichi. Go to Central 46 now. You must coordinate with the Bakkōtō there and keep the captains pinned."
"I know you've stockpiled a lot of reishi constructs helping me these years. Now's when they—"
Still lost in his daydream, he looked down in shock at the hole pierced through his chest.
"Your plan moved up. Mine didn't. Everything's proceeding as planned."
Shuuichi's voice drifted away.
Gyoukaku collapsed to his knees with a thud. His right hand clawed forward, reaching for that clan-head seat he'd dreamed of day and night.
The cold voice that floated from behind left him no hope.
"Hadō no 73: Sōren Sōkatsui (Twin Lotus Blue Fire, Crash Down)!"
The clan head's chair burned in the blaze—along with Gyoukaku's dreams and his life, all reduced to ash.
To Shuuichi, Gyoukaku had to die. Unlike Masasuke, Gyoukaku knew far too many secrets of the Bakkōtō—and far too many of Shuuichi's.
"Next up: swallow as many Bakkōtō into Raika as I can."
In the Kasumiooji courtyard, with towering fire at his back and broken bodies of clan members all around, Shuuichi felt no pity.
The Bakkōtō operatives sent to Central 46 wouldn't hold the captains for long.
Even if the captains reined in their power out of concern for the multi-tier prisons below, by his estimate they'd be out soon.
So after removing the Gyoukaku problem, Shuuichi had little time left to strengthen Raika.
How far Raika could grow from tonight would depend on how quickly he moved in the time remaining.
"To be fair, I might struggle against top-tiers. But in pure cleanup? No one in Soul Society is more efficient than me."
Shuuichi's mouth quirked. Lowering the left hand that gripped the Bakkōtō Raika, he called, "Advance, soldiers! Hates war—Peach Blossom Spring!"
Thousands of reishi constructs poured out of Peach Blossom Spring. Under Shuuichi's command, they streaked toward the rampaging Hollowfied Shinigami—just waiting for the captains at Central 46 to break free.
Then Shuuichi could drop the butcher's blade.
At that very moment, two brand-new students who had just reported to Shin'ō Academy were caught in the spillover.
Gin ducked behind cover the instant the Hollowfied Shinigami appeared.
Shūsuke, however, stood frozen, staring at the mindless, Hollowfied figure—breathing two disbelieving words:
"Father?!"
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