Blood dripped from Aizen's chest, a crimson trail marking his stillness, yet behind his calm eyes his mood rippled with faint turbulence.
"The world of the wind..."
With a flash of Shunpo his body vanished, reappearing far from Moyu's Zanpakutō slash, but Moyu's voice cut across the sky with quiet finality.
"I said it before. The windy world is my domain."
Even as the words fell another scar split across Aizen's flesh. His expression remained composed, though his hand rose to trace the wound. Between his pale fingers a thread of bright red shimmered before evaporating under the shock of his Reiatsu.
"A clean cut. A pity..." His tone was calm, almost mocking. "For me, the impact is very limited."
The breeze tugged at his torn robes, and beneath the rents a gemstone glowed—blue-black brilliance fused into his chest in the shape of a cross. From that light poured milky white Reiatsu, spilling outward and weaving itself into armor that replaced his clothes with a shining shield. White radiance flickered in his pupils, oppressive and sharp, and the Shinigami watching from afar stiffened with horror.
"This... this Reiatsu, it's Aizen?"
"What is happening? Why is he growing stronger still?"
"Unbelievable... if even Captain Moyu cannot suppress this—"
They had no place on this battlefield; they could only stand at the edge of Karakura's ruins and watch. The severely wounded, Yamamoto Genryūsai and Hitsugaya Tōshirō among them, had already been returned to Soul Society where Unohana Retsu bent all her skill to keep them alive.
Moyu's gaze held no fear. "Do you really think so?" His voice was flat, indifferent, not a trace of longing within. He recognized the truth: Aizen was stepping into his third fusion state, balanced at the threshold between Shinigami and Hollow, wielding a power without peer. But that was not what unsettled him.
"I've already seen through your attack." Aizen's smile flickered, eyes narrowing as he spoke with quiet confidence. "Lanyin—your Zanpakutō commands the wind. Its essence is no different than Ryūjin Jakka or Daiguren Hyōrinmaru. One bends fire, one ice, yours the air. At its root, all can be severed with a blade."
Raising his palm, he summoned dense torrents of Reiatsu. They condensed into a vast, luminous barrier, shields layered upon shields.
"Pure Reiatsu may not block your slash. But what if its density and resistance are increased a millionfold?"
Moyu's winds roared, countless blades of air slamming against the barrier, sparks and shockwaves tearing through the battlefield. Yet the shield endured. The crowd's confidence wavered, muttering in unease. Moyu only sighed softly.
"Tricky. Then I'll simply change the method of victory."
At once, black-red Reiatsu surged from beneath his feet, spreading like wildfire, climbing to the very zenith of Karakura Town. The heavens themselves trembled under the weight. For the first time Aizen's smile faltered. His eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening with unfeigned gravity.
"Perhaps... I should thank you." Moyu's laugh rang clear across the wind. "If not for Szayelaporro's schemes, I wouldn't have reached this level so quickly. This realm you sought, I've already stepped into it."
His Reiatsu, steeped in destruction, transcended the boundaries of Shinigami and Hollow alike, resonating in a dimension apart. Aizen's pupils contracted, unease flashing, but before he could answer the world detonated.
A thunderous blast shattered sky and earth. Shockwaves tore the air apart, dust spiraled upward in choking clouds, and Aizen staggered beneath the crushing force.
Crack. The sound of breaking resounded through his chest as fresh blood sprayed, yet before despair could settle, Hōgyoku awakened within him. Its blue core pulsed, releasing High-Speed Regeneration that stitched his wounds in an instant. But Moyu was already there, a shadow before his eyes.
"How many millionfold shields can you raise in succession?" His calm voice was steady, almost indifferent.
Lanyin arced down with unstoppable force.
Pooh—!
The slash landed before Aizen could respond. Blood burst from his chest in torrents, his expression breaking with astonishment. He could not comprehend how Moyu had breached the impossible divide, what external force had elevated him to a plane beyond Shinigami and Hollow.
Destruction itself coursed through his body, searing away flesh and spirit alike, dissolving him as though he were nothing more than wax before a flame.
The captains watching from afar gasped, their voices ragged.
"S–second strike, and he's down?"
"Is this truly Captain Moyu's strength?"
"Far more fearsome than even Head-Captain Yamamoto..."
"He alone can crush what all of us together could not... what kind of monster fights for our side?"
They swallowed hard, admiration laced with unease.
Aizen's body disintegrated, and from the ruins of his chest the Hōgyoku slipped free, suspended in mid-air, casting eerie violet light over the ruins of Karakura. Moyu's gaze lingered on it without a flicker of greed. That composure stirred confusion and unease among the onlookers.
"You see through everything, don't you?" Aizen's voice drifted across the battlefield, still composed though his form was almost gone. His calmness, even now, carried weight.
"What a pity..."
A column of violet light erupted from his body, splitting the heavens, scattering Reiatsu in every direction. His presence did not fade—it climbed.
Aizen's Reiatsu surged violently, climbing higher and higher. He had evolved again.
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