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Steel tore through the sky as Nnoitra's berserk onslaught carved a brutal arc across the heavens, wind shrieking in its wake. Killing intent radiated from his eye—unfiltered, feral, absolute. He had no use for mercy; only destruction lived in his creed.
As his double crescent scythe descended like a divine executioner's blade, a streak of blue light cut across the clouds, detonating upon impact with a thunderous shockwave that hurled Nnoitra backwards. His body rocketed through the air, crashed into the remains of a ruined building, and disappeared beneath a choking veil of smoke and dust.
The lightning fading from Moyu's fingertips matched the narrowing in his eyes as he turned toward the source of the strike. Through the curtain of ash, a schoolgirl stepped into view, orange hair swaying, her gaze unwavering as she approached. No hesitation, no fear.
"Quincy," he murmured, voice low but certain. The spiritual signature, the structure of the Reishi—refined, pure, unmistakable. In that moment, memory aligned with instinct. Kurosaki Masaki, daughter of the Kurosaki bloodline, a relic of a fading era.
From beneath the rubble, Nnoitra exploded forth like a predator sprung from the jaws of death, snarling as his gaze locked on the girl. Rage twisted his features, Reiatsu flaring with unchecked hatred.
"Another filthy woman—fine, you want to play hero, you can die first!"
With a soundless step, he vanished, appearing above Masaki in a blink. His massive leg dropped like a hammer aimed straight for her skull. She raised her arms in desperation; the impact cracked the air and sent her flying across the battlefield like a bolt of cloth caught in a hurricane. Moyu's gaze followed her trajectory, eyes pausing briefly on the pale-blue capillary lines glowing beneath her skin—Reishi veins hardened through Static Blood. A pure-blood Quincy, no mistake about it.
Masaki stabilized mid-air and shouted with urgent clarity. "Shinigami! That monster's not like the rest—get that kid out now before it's too late!"
Even in a single clash, she had recognized the imbalance. Nnoitra wasn't playing. She was already losing.
But Moyu wasn't the one about to run.
The air above him twisted again. Nnoitra, already repositioned, struck from above with another slash. Gold-tinged Reiatsu rippled around the descending blade. His eye gleamed with wild joy.
"Those who block me—die!"
As his blade fell, a sudden breeze whispered across the battlefield. Instinct roared in Nnoitra's mind. Danger. Death. A pulse of sheer survival.
Without hesitation, he jerked his body to the side just as a compressed wind blade tore through the space he'd just occupied, catching his arm and slicing a jagged line across it. The wound opened with a hiss, blood flaring as the edge sliced clean through his hierro.
Behind him, Moyu's voice arrived with the wind. "Ever heard the whisper of a blade on the breeze?"
There was no theatrics, no rage—only measured finality. Zanpakutō drawn, Moyu advanced, every step deliberate, his presence unshakable. "Your presence in this world was my mistake. I'll correct it."
This wasn't some declaration of righteousness—he didn't excuse his failure. The destruction, the chaos, the harm—it was on him. But now, it was time to fix that.
"Are you insane?!" Masaki's voice cracked through the dust. "You think cutting off his arm ends it?! He's just warming up!"
The desperation wasn't fear. It was clarity. That Espada wasn't something to be underestimated—not by her, not by anyone.
"His name's Nnoitra Gilga," she snapped. "Adjuchas-level Arrancar. He's not just tough—his base form alone rivals a Vasto Lorde."
"I know," Moyu said without pause. "He came because I let him. That's my weight to carry."
Before she could reply, he vanished.
When he reappeared, his blade swung downward in perfect silence. Nnoitra barely lifted his scythe in time before the impact drove him straight into the ground, leaving a new crater carved into the terrain as debris and spiritual pressure flooded the space like a tidal surge.
Masaki watched, stunned by the sheer scale of his assault. "Since when did Shinigami stationed in the living world get this powerful?"
None of it made sense. The Soul Society didn't send captains to the world of the living. Not to monitor cities. Not to play defense. Yet here he stood, overwhelming Espada-level strength without even releasing his Zanpakutō.
Beneath the crater, Nnoitra's scream burst through the dust. "Why do you bastards always show up to ruin everything?!"
Moyu didn't blink.
Nnoitra Gilga. The strongest hierro of any Espada. If he died here—cut down before releasing—then the title meant nothing.
The earth split again as Nnoitra surged upward. Blood poured from his shoulder, where his missing arm had once been. A massive gash ran diagonally across his body, exposing muscle and organs. His smile was gone. Replaced by seething fury.
"You damned Shinigami brat… now I'm mad."
His body hissed with regeneration. Tendrils of flesh lashed together like wet cords, sinew forming over bone. His shoulder bloomed with rapid tissue growth, muscle and skin racing to rebuild the lost limb.
Before the process finished, he launched forward, faster than before, slashing without warning. Moyu anticipated the move—steel met steel in a shrieking cascade of sparks and compressed pressure.
The two collided with enough force to send cracks ripping across the landscape.
Laughter poured from Nnoitra's mouth like blood. "Ha ha ha ha! You're finally dead!"
He pulled the scythe back, scanning the field for Masaki. She was next—he could feel it. But something stopped him.
The scythe wouldn't move.
He yanked once. Twice. It held fast.
Panic trickled in. Cold sweat followed. That attack hadn't worked?
From behind the smoke, Moyu's voice returned, lower now, colder.
"Hadō: Four Paths—Day and Thunder."
Light burst forth. A roar of lightning screamed across the ground, peeling away the dust, revealing Moyu untouched, blade locked against the scythe, fingertips extended. The spiritual energy surging from his hand sang with divine wrath.
The pillar formed in an instant and cracked through the sky like the judgment of the gods.
Thunder crashed.
A divine bolt of Reiatsu-laced lightning slammed down from the heavens, tracing the length of the battlefield in a straight, searing line. The blast split the earth as if cleaved by heaven itself.
Nnoitra's scream echoed beneath the bolt. "You've gotta be kidding me!"
The light swallowed everything.
When the brightness faded, only a scorched silhouette remained. His body crackled. His eyes, wide. His pride shattered.
"I won't accept this... I'm the strongest..."
But he still stood.
A column of golden Reiatsu exploded from his form, ripping the clouds apart. His charred skin cracked and fell away, revealing a healed body beneath. Regeneration at its peak. Pressure rippled across the battlefield, warping air and space.
Moyu felt his blade shift as Nnoitra yanked it free. Before he could respond, the Espada surged forward, his twin scythes swinging with devastating fury. The roar of golden spiritual pressure filled the air as he unleashed everything in one continuous barrage.
"DIE! DIE! DIE!"
Metal clanged against metal, pressure ruptured stone, and the earth shook beneath their feet.
But Moyu stood resolute.
You think this—this flailing—is enough?
Do you think a few desperate attacks can kill me?
Was this the purpose of his years under the Fist Slayer Ghost?
To fall to the 5th Espada like some weak stray?
Not a chance.
A chill gleam crossed his violet eyes as he twisted his wrist and raised his blade.
"Let me show you what real combat looks like."
Wind rose.
Spiritual pressure shifted.
A spiral of bluish-white Reiryoku encased his blade, howling as it twisted skyward like a cyclone.
"Death moves like the wind. Blade Mad Lan."
The vortex paused—then snapped forward.
The cyclone of wind transformed into compressed blades of destruction, each wave moving with terminal velocity. Nnoitra's instincts blared, his nerves on fire. He raised his scythe again, desperation in his movements, all bravado gone.
Block it—block it—block it!
But fate had already made its choice.
Wind collided with iron.
The impact obliterated the land beneath them. The resulting airburst carved a gorge hundreds of meters deep, splitting the battlefield into ruin. The shockwave flattened everything within a mile.
When the dust settled—
Nnoitra's Reiatsu was no longer present.
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