"Cole, what's going on over there—why are so many souls lifting into the sky?"
Ichigo's voice came out cold. In his bull-horned hollowfied state, he could barely keep his reason from slipping.
Cole saw it too—and it shook him.
Human souls drifted upward like hot-air balloons, filling the avenue as they swarmed toward a single point. It looked like a man-made hell devouring souls.
Thinking of the power his own hollowfication granted, a chill flashed in Cole's eyes. "That's Konshū (Soul Siphon)."
"Soul Siphon?"
"Yeah." Cole's gaze hardened. "It's an Adjuchas-class Hollow ability—swallows human souls over a wide area."
Even half-feral, Ichigo understood the horror: if you let a Hollow like that act unchecked, it could strip Karakura of every soul in minutes.
"For an Adjuchas," Cole went on, fists tightening around his golden staff, "human souls barely matter. Absorb them or not—the gain is trivial."
"Then why—"
"He's playing with them—treating human souls like delicacies."
A razor glint cut through Cole's eyes. As they neared, he hurled the staff down.
"Teikai (Sea-Fixation)!"
The golden staff rooted into the asphalt. Light erupted—and an immense suppressive field slammed outward. Gravity in the zone multiplied dozens of times.
Souls that had begun floating popped back to the ground in thumps, the unseen pull on them severed.
Far off, Yammy—mid-draw on his feast—froze, then roared when the banquet cut off. "Bastard! That's my food!" He'd only sipped seven or eight souls—not even an appetizer—and the main course was gone.
He snapped his jaws shut, eyes burning toward the two figures racing in.
Then he blinked. "Hollows?"
He looked genuinely confused. Cole and Ichigo—both fully hollowfied—radiated a purer Hollow pressure than he did. Of course, he'd been reforged as an Arrancar and carried a Shinigami's taint.
"Ulquiorra, are they Shinigami?" Yammy growled.
Ripping open a black garganta, Ulquiorra answered without inflection. "They're Shinigami—not Hollows."
Even he felt a flicker of surprise at their forms, but his nature was emptiness; the impression slid off. Identifying their true kind was easy.
"Shinigami…?" Yammy barked a laugh. "Those trash that invade Hueco Mundo every hundred years—now they look like us?"
Red radiance swelled between his teeth. "Die!"
"Heads up, Cole! Ichigo!" Mashiro and Hachigen shouted from afar. They'd eaten Yammy's blasts before; this one hit like a high-tier hadō in the 80s.
Cole moved first, faster than Ichigo. He lifted an index finger at the oncoming beam.
"Gran Rey Cero (Royal Hollow Flash)."
Black-crimson pressure lanced out, meeting the red. No explosion—just domination. Cole's beam chewed through Yammy's and kept boring forward.
Yammy's eyes went wide. "A Gran Rey Cero… That brat's really a Shinigami?"
Cero had flavors—Cero Oscuras (Black Cero), Bala (Hollow Bullet), spear-type ceros, wolf-type ceros… But among them, Gran Rey Cero sat at the top—only a select few upper-class Menos could wield it.
His thoughts ended as black-crimson light smashed into him.
Boom. Boom. Boom—
Buildings burst as the giant was fired down the block like a cannonball, gouging a trench before skidding to a stop.
Mashiro and Hachigen arrived just in time to stare. "One shot…?" "His hierro's shattered!"
They'd needed dozens of ceros to crack Yammy's skin. Cole had flicked a single beam—and not only shattered that hierro, but punched a hole through Yammy's left chest.
Cole lowered his finger and looked to Ulquiorra—and at the girl slung on his shoulder. Killing intent rippled. "Tatsuki!"
His classmate—Tatsuki Arisawa—still in pajamas.
Cole started forward—
—but Yammy lunged back in, wounds ignored, sword like a toothpick in his massive fist.
"Dafa Leitīnba, Fenshō (Rage, Wrathful Beast)!"
His already colossal body swelled again—black and blood-red lines crawling his hide as his reiatsu spiked, tens—hundreds—of times over. In a blink he stood seven or eight meters tall, twelve bestial legs, a heavy tail, four horns at the crown and another pair down the back—part tyrant lizard, part demon.
Pressure boiled off him like an abyss. Mashiro couldn't breathe.
This was a Hollow—its true form. And it was terrifying.
The hole in his chest sealed as his mass shifted; he glared down at Cole and roared, "Human! I'll kill you!"
His palm fell like a mountain.
Cole's lips curled. Black-crimson reiatsu wrapped his right hand like flame. He stepped in and punched.
Boom.
For two heartbeats Yammy stared, dumb—then he looked down at the bleeding crater through his own fist and screamed.
Cole shook gore from his knuckles. "Didn't Aizen tell you idiots not to pick a fight with me?"
Yammy didn't hear—his rage only climbed, dragging his pressure with it.
On the far side, Ichigo—horned mask on, Tensa Zangetsu whistling—rushed Ulquiorra.
Ulquiorra's eyes stayed cold; left hand held Tatsuki, right drew his blade to meet the black arc.
Black-crimson and viridian smashed together—and Ulquiorra, for once, gave ground.
"Tozase, Kokuyoku Daima (Enclose, Black-Winged Demon)!"
He didn't balloon like Yammy; instead, black reiatsu rained from the sky. His single horned helm split to two; nails lengthened into claws; hair spilled long; the green tear-streaks deepened—and vast black wings unfurled, blotting the clouds.
A devil. Quiet—perfect—fatal.
Even so, Ichigo drove him back nearly a hundred meters before he slid to a stop. "Such power…" Ulquiorra's gaze sharpened. This strength exceeded even many Vasto Lorde.
Ichigo didn't slow. Ulquiorra reached into the air.
"Gekkōken (Moonlight Sword)."
A green lance condensed in his grip—only to shatter under one black cut.
"—Kh!"
The follow-through severed Ulquiorra's right arm at the shoulder. Blood pattered the street. He didn't flinch; still holding Tatsuki in his left, he stepped back and glanced once at the stump—
High-Speed Regeneration hissed to life; black reiatsu knitted bone and flesh. In a second the arm was new.
Ichigo's eyes only burned hotter. Red power gathered at his twin horns—an unthinkably dense cero—
and didn't fire.
"Put Tatsuki down," he grated. "Or I kill you."
Tatsuki was a human—no instinctive reiatsu skin. One wide swing, and she'd be paste. He couldn't risk a slash or a beam.
Ulquiorra's gaze stayed flat. He had no intention of releasing her.
"Cole—how's your side?" Ichigo bit out.
"Annoying." Cole stood in the street holding a fresh-torn, blood-slick giant forearm. "He swallowed Hiyori and Lisa. I split him open—couldn't find either of them."
Even Ichigo twitched. Yammy looked mangled: one arm ripped free, skin, muscle and bone bared; belly flensed in gaping rents, blood pouring like tide. He looked like a triceratops mauled by a tyrannosaur—primal, obscene.
Cole tossed the limb aside. "Hollows are freaks. This one's got eight stomachs. Who knows which one they're in?"
"You bastard!" Yammy's fury peaked. Since reaching Adjuchas, he hadn't taken wounds like this. He wasn't blessed with high-speed regen; a lost arm was gone forever. Rage stoked his pressure higher still.
Cole only snorted. "The madder you are, the higher your reiatsu? Pray there's no cap."
He blurred—and Yammy shrieked as another detonation tore through him. One of his eight legs snapped like a mast. Then a second. A third.
Mashiro and Hachigen shivered just watching. Too brutal. Was Cole intent on ripping off everything first?
Cole heard them and didn't look back. "Don't give me that look. If I don't dismantle him, how do I save those two idiots unscathed?"
He could blitz Yammy in a single blow—but he had no idea where Hiyori and Lisa were hidden. Eight stomachs? Mouth? Heart? Hollows were all monsters inside; even Unohana would shrug at the anatomy.
"We—weren't judging," Mashiro and Hachigen muttered, abashed. Of course their comrades mattered more than a Hollow's misery.
With four of Yammy's great legs shattered, Ulquiorra finally stopped retreating. His voice cut through the din, icy: "Don't you care about your companions?"
He lifted Tatsuki higher in one hand.
...
(End of Chapter)
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