Chapter 65: Za Warudo and the Road Roller
Seeing the Soul King Palace reduced to such a state, Ichibe Hyosube—the Monk of the Eyes—felt helpless, yet he carried an air of one who had long expected this.
In a history stretching back a million years, there had been no shortage of individuals who, out of dissatisfaction with the order of the Three Worlds, envy of the Zero Division's immortality, or a simple desire to destroy the world, sought any means to break into the palace and "do something" to the Soul King.
In his eons-long life, the Monk had fallen for tactics like "luring the tiger away from the mountain" more than a few times. After all, there were many secrets in the Three Worlds that only an old monster like him could handle personally, and with the Zero Division's limited numbers, it wasn't the first or second time their defensive line had been breached.
However, a million years had passed, and the Soul King Palace and the Zero Division remained while those enemies had long since turned to dust. That alone spoke volumes. Even bypassing the defense didn't mean one's ambitions would be realized.
In the Soul Society, the secret archives of the ancient noble houses held records of the Soul King. They generally noted how He had been betrayed by the five Great Noble Families, hollowed of His limbs and organs, and suppressed as a "human pillar" for a million years—silent, motionless, and wordless. Consequently, those with ambition instinctively looked down on the Soul King, believing that once they stood before Him, they could do as they pleased.
This was, without doubt, a fatal misconception.
The Soul King was indeed silent and motionless, but that did not mean He was an object to be toyed with. On the contrary, His very existence was the ultimate defense of the palace—the final horror that plunged ambitious men into the abyss time and again. For the Soul King was not just the linchpin that held the Three Worlds together; He was also the lid that suppressed the Great Cauldron of Hell.
While Kisuke Urahara and Aizen did not know these secrets, they felt the aftershocks of the palace's "renovation" deep in their souls.
Eerie, frantic shadows surged like a tsunami. Just then, a wave of darkness rushed toward Urahara and the others. Aizen was the first to react. Whether it was his sharp intuition or his wariness as a mastermind, Aizen uncharacteristically unleashed a portion of his true power. Powerful Reiatsu materialized into a physical attack to clash with the shadow-wave.
The result made both Aizen and Urahara frown.
Aizen's Reiatsu could not disperse the incoming shadow; the two forces entered a stalemate before the scales tipped. The shadow-wave overrode the spiritual pressure. Seeing this, the group quickly dodged, with Aizen grabbing the "Ichigo-Slime" on his way out.
The shadow-wave possessed no will of its own; it simply swept past with mindless indifference.
Upon landing, Aizen's brow furrowed. "These shadows possess the traits of suppression, annihilation, and devouring toward spiritual power. It is as if they are the natural predator of Reishi. Urahara, do you recognize this...?"
Urahara kept his hand on his bucket hat, his signature move to hide the flickering of his eyes. "I've done experiments with Reishi. To probe its fundamental properties, I clashed it against everything I could find. Only one power possesses such traits: the Miasma of Hell."
"Hell?" Aizen searched his memory, but found it lacking in intelligence regarding that realm.
This wasn't his fault; even in the noble archives, descriptions and research on Hell were scarce and vague. Aizen was a top scientist, but that was a side-hustle; his main job was being a mastermind. His research served his ambition; he didn't have time to explore every unknown mystery for fun like Urahara did.
Despite his limited knowledge, Aizen's insight was sharp. He said flatly:
"Urahara, if this continues, do you think the Soul King Palace will be entirely consumed by this miasma and become a part of Hell...?"
Aizen's mood was complex. He had spent eons planning to reach this palace, and yet the moment he arrived, it was being "renovated" beyond recognition right in front of him. To him, this felt like a form of NTR.
Urahara replied, "Based on my experiments... the result might be worse than you imagine. The miasma of Hell is not a simple thing."
Just as Aizen was about to ask more, a deep, booming voice echoed between them:
"You two little brats are clever enough, but it's a pity your wisdom isn't focused on the right path..."
The two turned to find the Monk standing between them. Aizen's body moved faster than his thoughts; his blade was drawn and ready for Shikai. But in the next instant, the Monk's palm—wreathed in ink-like black Reiatsu—gripped Kyoka Suigetsu. Aizen found he could no longer trigger his Shikai.
In fact, it wasn't just that he couldn't use it; the blade itself began to reject him!
"Your Kyoka Suigetsu is quite disgusting. So, be a good boy..."
In that moment, records from the noble houses regarding the Monk flashed through Aizen's mind. He immediately let go of the blade, letting it fall to the ground. His fingers blurred, plucking at the invisible strings of Reishi.
"Hadō #63: Raikōhō (Thunder Roar Cannon)..."
The Nobles didn't revere the Zero Division; they envied and hated them, so their records were detailed. Aizen knew the Monk's abilities and knew that a Zanpakuto wasn't something to rely on in a pinch. This was why Aizen hadn't obsessed over Bankai like other Reapers; he had focused on his own Reiatsu and mastered high-level Kido to the point of incantation-less casting.
However, the result was poor. The Monk didn't even bother to block the missile-like blast at point-blank range. Amidst the explosion, the Monk reached out his pudgy hand toward Aizen.
No—strictly speaking, he reached for the "Ichigo-Slime" Aizen was carrying!
Aizen tried to dodge, confident in his Shunpo, but found he couldn't move. A terrifying, indescribable Reiatsu was pinning him down. A battle between Soul Reapers is ultimately a battle of Reiatsu; this was Aizen's creed, and now it was being verified. Compared to an old monster whose blood and bone were rebuilt by the Soul King over a million years, Aizen's near-limit spiritual pressure was practically negligible.
Black-Hole Ichigo was snatched away by the Monk as easily as taking candy from a baby.
"The fact that the Soul King Palace hides the lid to Hell is information never permitted to be known by the outside world," the Monk declared. "Therefore, you shall all die here—the price for trespassing with your filthy bodies and desecrating this holy ground..."
Holding Ichigo, the Monk leapt into the air to leave the palace, simultaneously weaving spells to activate the defensive barrier. The seventy-two barriers between the palace and the Seireitei weren't primarily for keeping outsiders out; their strongest function was internal suppression and isolation. For a million years, many brilliant minds had died to this "shut the door and beat the dog" tactic.
But as the Monk leapt out of the palace, he felt something was wrong.
He closed his eyes and opened them again. The scenery distorted and shifted. He was still inside the palace. He wasn't holding Ichigo; he was holding the Kyoka Suigetsu Aizen had discarded. And Aizen was still performing his silent Kido.
"Hadō #63: Raikōhō..."
Clearly, his successful "departure" had been an illusion.
When was I hypnotized? The Monk felt the same confusion as many a protagonist in a "hypnosis-themed" adult manga. But he quickly concluded: Likely the moment I locked eyes with Aizen.
Even after discarding his blade, Aizen hadn't stopped exploring the essence of its power. But the Monk didn't care; such a trick wouldn't work twice, and the Kido couldn't truly harm him.
That arrogance lasted until Aizen, after the silent blast, followed through with a punch wreathed in peerless lightning, slamming it right into the Monk's face!
It wasn't a Kido spell; it was a Raikōhō-Punch!
Even with the Monk's strength, he stumbled back, his nose becoming swollen and red. The result wasn't much, but it was something.
As the Monk steadied himself to counter-attack, he suddenly realized he couldn't move. Not because of a stronger Reiatsu—no, not just him, but Aizen, Urahara, and even the tsunami of Hell's miasma had entered a state of total stasis.
It was as if an invisible hand had pressed the "Pause" button on the temporal progress bar of the universe. Time and fate stood still.
A leisurely, holy whisper echoed through the world:
"One second... two seconds... nine seconds have passed. It's a pity there are no road rollers or dump trucks near the Soul King Palace, otherwise, I'd definitely recreate a scene engraved in DNA for you. But no matter... Ichibe Hyosube, who gave you the courage to beat a Heaven Media employee in our branch headquarters, right under my nose as the Chairman? Jotaro Kujo?!"
Inside the mind of the frozen Monk, a wave of unbelievable horror surged.
End of Chapter
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