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"So this little Shinigami girl is about to get taken out?"
Las Noches fell into complete silence.
Every Arrancar held their breath, eyes glued to the screen.
No one looked dismissive anymore. No anger, either. Every face was weighed down with unease.
Visually speaking, the fight itself wasn't even flashy. No grand destruction, no overwhelming spectacle. It ended almost immediately.
But…
That strange, unreal sense of "imagination" came through perfectly in the scene of Yachiru Kusajishi's bones shattering, her body collapsing to the ground in utter despair with no room left to struggle.
Even through a transparent projection.
Whenever the camera landed on Gremmy Thoumeaux, that boyish figure hidden beneath a white cloak still radiated an indescribable pressure.
"Imagination… Does a power this absurd really exist in this world?" Ulquiorra's eyes narrowed, his cold voice full of doubt.
He had seen it with his own eyes—everything Gremmy claimed, he actually made real.
And yet…
From the perspective of the Black-Winged Demon's worldview, abilities couldn't detach from reality. Even his own "path of nothingness" ultimately relied on the overwhelming reiatsu of a Vasto Lorde.
But Gremmy?
From start to finish, he walked around with his hands in his pockets, not even bothering to release spiritual pressure. He didn't show any real destructive power. He only… talked.
Kill someone just by talking?
It was a bit too ridiculous.
Ulquiorra even started wondering if the footage was fake.
"Who is this guy? He's killing Shinigami out in the open inside Soul Society!" Baraggan narrowed his skeletal eyes and studied Gremmy up and down.
In a way, his own ability—aging—had some similarities to imagination. But it wasn't nearly as bizarre.
Aging meant decay.
Something you could confirm with your eyes.
But imagination created something from nothing and couldn't be predicted at all.
That was what made it so terrifying.
And Gremmy's identity was the biggest mystery of all.
He openly stood against the Shinigami.
He had already killed or defeated three captain-class Shinigami.
Just that alone made it impossible for him to be an ordinary human.
So…
Who was he?
While the Espada were still feeling unsettled, the image suddenly cut away from the fight and jumped to a brand-new scene.
A thunderous boom filled the air.
First thing they saw was countless chunks of rock rising from fractures in the ground.
Boulders stacked and gathered.
Within moments, they formed a towering square platform like a colossal arena stretching up toward the heavens.
Then came Gremmy's young, cold voice, dripping with mockery:
"Kenpachi Zaraki…"
"With molten lava that burns everything and a freezing storm that seals the air itself… how do you plan to handle this next?"
His indifferent tone sounded like the opening notes of a judgment from hell, sung in a duet of fire and ice.
Las Noches.
"What?!"
"Lava and a cold front? Don't tell me he can just imagine those into existence?" Grimmjow froze, eyebrows practically tying themselves into a knot.
Lava…
Cold fronts…
They weren't simple elemental tricks. They were rare, powerful forces. Anyone—Shinigami or Arrancar—who could control even one of them would easily hold a major place in the world.
So…
Could imagination really summon them from nothing?
The question barely formed before the answer arrived.
The BGM kicked in—loud, explosive drumming.
And then, with a roaring blast, molten lava surged from the cracks in the earth like a burning tide, bursting upward with terrifying speed.
A searing wind swept outward.
Tons of lava rose like a mountain and slammed into the camera, overflowing with violent heat.
The Arrancar all jumped back, drenched in cold sweat.
But before their shock settled, a freezing white mist plunged down from the sky. The icy air fed the burning lava, whipping it up into a tornado of fire that stretched a hundred meters tall.
The sky raged with cold.
The ground erupted with magma.
The entire view was swallowed by ice and fire, destruction so overwhelming it looked like it might spill out of the screen and devour the world.
Gulps echoed one after another.
Even the most violent Arrancar went stiff as statues, not daring to move.
The shock was absolute.
The destruction… unreal.
"It's real…" Noitra muttered, dazed from repeated shocks. "He can really imagine anything!"
The mantis-shaped Espada trembled uncontrollably.
Someone who considered himself "the strongest Espada" suddenly felt puny, unable to stand firm before a disaster of this scale.
Even the four Vasto Lorde felt immense pressure.
Starrk in particular felt his heart jolt.
"Compared to the strongest ice-type Zanpakutō… this cold front is ten times stronger."
"Can something this monstrous really come from nothing but imagination?"
The top-ranked Espada was fully shaken.
He no longer cared about captains' Bankai. All his attention was now locked onto Gremmy.
He hadn't expected it—Gremmy really backed up every word.
His so-called imagination could truly accomplish things beyond anything Shinigami or Arrancar had ever conceived.
At the same moment, just as the roaring storm of fire reached its peak, the camera cut sharply to the center of the towering stone platform.
There stood a beast of a man.
The King of Sword Swings—Kenpachi Zaraki.
"Oh? Lava and ice, huh? Gotta admit, your imagination's flashy as hell."
He stood alone on the massive pillar.
Even at more than two meters tall, he looked tiny—a leaf drifting in an ocean of falling lava and icy storms, one moment away from being crushed.
"Good."
"Looks like you finally acknowledge my imagination, Kenpachi."
High above, Gremmy floated beside the sun.
His white cloak whipped wildly in the tearing winds.
And then came his declaration, delivered like a god handing down judgment:
"Don't be afraid. Death isn't hard to imagine. It only takes a moment."
"To die at the hands of the strongest member of the Sternritter… you should feel honored."
"..."
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