The moment Harribel's body fell from the sky, the expressions of Hitsugaya Tōshirō, Hiyori, and Lisa froze in disbelief.
"Damn it… you bastard…" Tōshirō's tone was heavy, his young face shadowed with barely contained fury. His eyes, once calm, now burned with rage.
"Throwing away your subordinates the moment they lose their worth…" Lisa's glasses reflected a razor-thin gleam as her voice dropped to a chill. "You really are still that heartless monster."
Hiyori, on the other hand, didn't bother with restraint. Her lips curled in disgust as she spat out the word, "Trash."
Aizen stood motionless, his hands behind his back, his voice detached and cold. "The weak have no right to dictate their fate."
"Full of nonsense!" Hiyori roared, her teeth grinding. In a surge of fury, she swung her Zanpakutō with both hands, Reiatsu bursting around her. "Go to hell, scum!"
The massive blade cut a white arc toward Aizen's head—but he didn't even lift an eyelid.
A sound split the air.
A single streak of light flashed through the sky, cutting cleanly between them.
Hiyori's pupils constricted. Her swing halted in midair.
"Hiyori!!" Lisa and Tōshirō shouted, but the girl didn't respond. For her, everything had gone eerily silent. The world dimmed, her sense of time faltered.
Something warm trickled down her stomach—followed by a creeping chill. She lowered her gaze, blankly registering the red pooling from her abdomen.
Hot, because of the blood. Cold, because her body was splitting apart.
The next instant, Hiyori Sarugaki was cut in half by a white flash.
Tōshirō's eyes widened until they were no more than icy pinpoints. That light—he knew it. Shinsō.
Ichimaru Gin.
The silver-haired man's smirk faded like smoke in the distance, while Hiyori's severed halves fell from the sky, trailing twin ribbons of crimson that burned against the clouds.
Lisa's hands trembled violently. Her mask snapped into place, Reiatsu bursting skyward, wild and furious. "You bastard!!!"
She vanished from sight, reappearing before Aizen in an instant. The silver spear she wielded came crashing down toward his skull with everything she had.
Aizen's expression didn't shift. One smooth motion—his sword rose slightly.
A single flash.
The spear shattered in two.
Blood blossomed from Lisa's chest like a dark flower. Her mask cracked, eyes wide with disbelief. Impossible… just one strike…
Her body arced backward, dissolving into a red streak that plunged toward the ruins below.
Tōshirō's breath caught. The sight of both comrades crushed in moments left his blood running cold.
Aizen turned to him, voice light but venomously calm. "Captain Hitsugaya. It seems you're the last one standing."
The boy's throat tightened. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as his heart pounded with dread.
Then a voice broke the tension. "Brace yourself, boy."
Tōshirō turned sharply. Two battered figures appeared behind him—Sui-Feng, missing an arm, and Kyōraku Shunsui, his robe soaked in blood.
"Sui-Feng… Kyōraku-taichō…" he breathed. Seeing them alive steadied his trembling hands. Both were wounded, but still standing. They wouldn't let this end here.
They exchanged no words, but the resolve between them burned clear.
Three captain-class Reiatsu surged together, shaking the heavens. Ice and wind, speed and illusion—all converged into a storm aimed at the man floating before them.
Aizen's gaze remained indifferent, but a faint, almost amused curve touched his lips.
The three lunged as one. The air exploded. Blades collided with such force that the ground itself screamed.
Hyōrinmaru's frost tore through the sky, Sui-Feng's blade struck with venomous precision, and Kyōraku's slashing winds twisted in arcs of deception.
Buildings shattered in their wake, earth and stone hurled into the air as their clash raged on.
And then—a flicker.
Hitsugaya's eyes sharpened. Aizen's guard was open.
Without hesitation, he struck.
The tip of Hyōrinmaru pierced Aizen's chest.
"Got him!!" Kyōraku's eyes widened, and Sui-Feng's mouth curled into a grim smile.
But then—a sound. A faint, wrong sound.
Their relief died in an instant.
The figure skewered on Hyōrinmaru shifted—and transformed.
Blood spattered across Tōshirō's face as he stared in horror.
"Hinamori… Momo…?"
The blade in his hand trembled. The girl's lips moved weakly, crimson trailing down her chin. "Tō… shirō…"
Sui-Feng's expression darkened. Kyōraku's eyes narrowed in grim realization.
"Kyōka Suigetsu," he muttered.
Aizen's voice drifted from behind them, soft and mocking. "Wonderful."
Slow applause echoed through the air.
Veins bulged on Tōshirō's forehead as grief turned to blind rage. "Aizen!!! I'll kill you!!!"
His Reiatsu erupted, a storm of cold fury surging skyward.
But before he could even move—three flashes of light.
Puff. Puff. Puff.
Three blossoms of blood burst in the air.
Sui-Feng, Kyōraku, and Hitsugaya froze, disbelief etched on their faces as the world tilted and red lines traced their fall.
Aizen slowly lowered his blade, eyes as calm as glass. The three captains collapsed, their expressions frozen in confusion, still not understanding how they'd lost.
And yet—the result was absolute.
Within moments, Sui-Feng, Hitsugaya, Kyōraku, and even Ukitake had fallen.
The Visored—Hirako Shinji, Hiyori, Lisa, Muguruma Kensei—defeated.
The battlefield was silent save for the crackle of fading Reiatsu. The Gotei 13 lay broken.
Only one figure remained standing.
The next battle would decide everything.
Heavy footsteps echoed. A cane struck the ground.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni emerged from the smoke, his presence alone suffocating the air. The sky trembled beneath the weight of his Reiatsu.
Expressionless, he advanced toward Aizen. His half-closed eyes burned with a steady ember of wrath.
Aizen smiled faintly, unafraid.
The old man slowly unsheathed his Zanpakutō. He hadn't drawn it even against the strongest Arrancar before—but now, faced with the enemy who had crushed his subordinates, there was no holding back.
"Ryūjin Jakka."
Flames roared to life, devouring the world in light. The sky turned crimson. The ground cracked and steamed as the lingering frost of Hyōrinmaru evaporated in an instant.
The air dried to ash.
Yamamoto raised the blazing blade, its heat distorting reality itself. His voice thundered across the battlefield. "Aizen Sōsuke. Sinner."
Aizen met his gaze, his tone faint, almost pitying. "Fuzakeruna, Sōtaichō."
But before Yamamoto could strike, a gust of darkness swept past him.
A shadow rose—a consuming, writhing void that swallowed the fire of Ryūjin Jakka whole. The flames vanished, devoured as though the world itself had inhaled them.
Within seconds, the inferno was gone.
Aizen watched the spectacle, his faint smile deepening.
Yamamoto turned slowly toward the newcomer. The shadow solidified into the form of an Arrancar youth—wide-eyed, trembling, with the remnants of fire flickering in his throat.
He burped softly, and the world fell silent.
Aizen's voice carried through the still air. "My gift to you, Genryūsai."
He gestured toward the boy. "Prince of Fire's Extinction—Wonderweiss Margela."
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