Chapter 69: Implementation of the Ultimate Power
For the Gotei 13, this period had been a calamitous autumn of relentless troubles.
First, Uryu Ishida caused an uproar, though only Mayuri Kurotsuchi died. Then Ichigo Kurosaki led a group of muscular martial artists on an invasion; this time, the victims weren't just one or two. In a few short days, most Soul Reapers in the Seireitei had been pummeled by a "Martial Artist."
Worse still, rumors swirled in the shadows: the Gotei 13 had acted against heaven and angered the Soul King; these invaders were emissaries carrying the King's will to purge the rebels. At first, few believed it, but "a rumor repeated enough becomes truth." When everyone began saying it, morale plummeted.
The defeat of Kenpachi Zaraki and Captain-Commander Yamamoto's subsequent intervention sent morale into a freefall. Kenpachi was the benchmark of the Seireitei's military might; his fall brought despair. Yamamoto's personal combat, however, was even more tragic—when Zanka no Tachi opened, the Seireitei nearly burned to ash, and the collateral damage caused by the Commander in minutes exceeded anything the invaders had done in days.
Had it ended there, the Gotei 13 could have slowly recovered. But when Mo Yu's declaration echoed from the heavens, many hearts truly shattered. The Soul King's direct address to the world effectively confirmed the rumors.
Even the Commander was affected. Not long ago, the Monk had returned to the palace with a "this is a minor issue" attitude. Yamamoto, lying on a stretcher under Unohana's care, hadn't even been bandaged before the Monk came running back, spitting blood, and hijacked the hospital bed next to him.
The two old men stared at each other in a deafening silence. Finally, Yamamoto rasped, "I heard the voice. What happened in the Soul King Palace?"
Ichibe, showing signs of filth and decay, spat a mouthful of blood. "A heretical god occupied the King's body. He used the King's power to rewrite the world's laws and lifted the lid off Hell. Heal yourself quickly. Hell will soon sweep the Three Worlds, and your strength will be indispensable."
Yamamoto noticed the change: the Monk's once-divine pressure had vanished. Yamamoto flicked his wrist, testing Ryūjin Jakka.
The Monk smiled bitterly. "Though I cast that seal casually, I no longer have the power to break it. You'll have to find a way yourself. Do it quickly; time waits for no one."
Yamamoto's gaze toward the Monk became exceptionally cold. Unohana, finishing an inspection, shook her head. "Your condition is beyond my medical skills. As for the surface wounds... they're mostly healed even without my help."
The Monk gnashed his teeth. Stripped of a million years of authority in a single day—the rage was extreme, but beneath it lay a sliver of fear and helplessness. He knew the Soul King's true power better than anyone. He could only comfort himself with the thought that a "Heretical God" couldn't perfectly synchronize with the Vessel.
"We must storm the palace and drive him out," the Monk urged. "The longer we wait, the lower our odds!"
Before Yamamoto could reply, a piercing alarm rang out across the Seireitei. Shunsui Kyoraku rushed in.
"Teacher, apologies for the interruption, but a massive army of strange muscle-men is gathering and charging the Seireitei. We need you to take command."
"Muscle-men." The word made Yamamoto's eyes narrow. He thought of Rukia—her "Demon Muscle Man" form and her declaration of a muscle-filled world. He instinctively suspected she was behind this.
He was also confused. Shunsui was usually reliable in a crisis; why was he forcing a heavily injured man to the front line without even time to bandage?
Despite his wounds, Yamamoto stood up. The Monk followed. Using Shunpo, they reached the walls instantly. When Yamamoto saw the situation, he understood why Shunsui had been so urgent.
"Massive" was an understatement. It was a boundless ocean of black muscle, surging from the horizon. Everything in its path was pulverized—trees and rocks were uprooted and beaten into dust.
Beyond the Seireitei lay the Rukongai. The flat plains offered no defense. Shunsui had already ordered the evacuation of commoners into the Seireitei. Now, only the Sekkiseki (Spirit-Paring Stone) walls remained as a barrier.
"Prepare for war," Yamamoto commanded. "The dignity of the Seireitei shall not be violated."
The war machine groaned to life. Heavy weapons developed by the Research Department were hauled onto the walls.
The black flood swallowed the Rukongai. Houses were destroyed, and streets were leveled. Those who tried to hide were dragged out and beaten by groups of macho-men. Resistance was futile against the sheer scale of the tide.
Then, the cannons fired. Reishi shells slammed into the pitch-black flood.
The intensity escalated rapidly. These Hellish Macho-Men did not fear death. They marched forward with a Ricardo Milos-style "hearty" smile, surrounding the city. The Soul Reapers fought back from the four gates, but they soon realized a problem.
The Macho-Men's resistance to Reishi was too high. A strike that would have cut through steel barely left a scratch on their skin. Lieutenants and Captains were forced to step in early.
"Hmph!"
With a cold snort, Yamamoto acted. Despite having only one hand and unhealed wounds, his spirit was majestic. Ryūjin Jakka entered Shikai. With a wave, a sea of fire covered a hundred-meter radius. Even with their resistance, the Macho-Men were reduced to ash before the Commander's refined flames. As they died, the ashes turned into black smoke and vanished.
Vaguely, Yamamoto heard an impassioned roar!
As the roar echoed, the sunlight falling from the sky suddenly compressed and intensified, transforming into a fist of fire that merged with Yamamoto's strike, amplifying its destruction.
It wasn't an isolated event. Many Soul Reapers fought with passion, and the world resonated with them. High-purity natural phenomena emerged—wind, lightning, and fire acting in concert with the Reapers.
A "Purity-Brained" world craved combat. These phenomena were the manifestation of the world's own battle intent. Yamamoto, fresh from his duel with Ichigo, found this feeling familiar.
The black smoke from the fallen Macho-Men wasn't dissipating; it was being chewed and swallowed by the world itself.
Joy. Satisfaction. Hunger. And a growing, savage battle intent.
The world craved more. To fight, to devour, to grow—to become the "Strongest" that none could oppose!
As the battle intent climbed, the world's invisible roar became a clear message in Yamamoto's heart. He finally understood the familiarity.
The World itself was now just like Ichigo Kurosaki: a high-purity, "Potent" spiritual lunatic!
Yamamoto marveled inwardly: So this is the world's law reshaped by the Soul King? This is the scenery of the New Era? It's so goddamn POTENT!!!
While some felt joy, others felt miserable—namely, a certain Monk who had just lost his authority. Even though he wasn't fighting, high-purity natural phenomena would periodically "swerve" and smack him in the face. It wasn't very damaging, but it was highly insulting. The world, now obsessed with Purity, found the Monk's high power but "low Purity" quite distasteful.
The pressure on the Soul Reapers increased. There were too many Macho-Men. They climbed over the barriers, covering the sky and plunging the Seireitei into darkness. Ordinary Reapers could do nothing; even Seated Officers were barely making a dent.
The Sekkiseki barrier was cracking. The Macho-Men's punches were technical-less but carried Hell's miasma, which eroded the spirit-stone.
Yamamoto felt a surge of anxiety. If his Bankai wasn't sealed, Zanka no Tachi would have ended this. The Monk's seal was tied to his very soul; given time, he could break it, but time was a luxury he didn't have.
He made a decision. He didn't fully trust the Monk's "Heretical God" story, but he trusted results. If the world had changed, his only path was to adapt and find a way forward.
As the strongest Reaper, his talent was peerless. From the Ichigo who wouldn't die and that final "Heavenly Fist," Yamamoto had glimpsed the power of the New Era. He had begun to taste the essence of Purity.
He let the world's roar fill his body. He danced with the world's intent, digging for that essence. Slowly, a strange power spread through his soul. It was extreme, pure, and so strong his injuries felt non-existent.
Suddenly, a crack appeared on Ryūjin Jakka's blade! Yamamoto ignored it and swung:
"Absolute Realm 50% Output: Ten-Directional Fire Tornado!!!"
The move was technically Taimatsu, but infused with the Absolute Realm, it transformed. Spirals of fire incinerated columns of enemies. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.
He craved more. He used his Purity as a medium to let out a silent, deafening soul-roar:
"WORLD! LET ME SEE YOUR PURITY!!!"
In that instant, the battle intent lingering in the trees, the wind, and the clouds answered. The fire tornadoes came to life, growing whiskers and claws—dragons of fire that lunged and swallowed the earth like an eraser, wiping rows of Macho-Men from existence.
The Monk stood agape. By combining his own Absolute Realm with the World's Purity, Yamamoto had reached a new height.
The "Ultimate Power" was now implemented.
Every true martial artist in the world felt the ceiling of combat expand and deepen. A new tier of strength was live.
But Yamamoto paid the price. His body ruptured in multiple places, blood spraying into the air. To command the power of the world with a mortal frame was not easy, especially while injured. He lost the strength to continue.
The magnificent strike was still a drop in the bucket against the infinite flood. The barrier shattered. Smiling Macho-Men poured into the Seireitei.
But then, a sigh echoed between heaven and earth. Shadows blotted out the sky, swallowing the Seireitei whole.
Yhwach had made his move.
End of Chapter
Like this story Leave a review ; it would really help me out a lot.
Want to Read Ahead in Advance?
Join my Patreon!
+75 Chapters
Support me in
Patreon.com/BestElysium