At this moment,
the camera focused in.
The future Grimmjow was now completely visible—
but his appearance was clearly different from before.
He no longer wore the white uniform of Las Noches,
but a high-collared black shirt instead.
Across his bare chest were several deep sword scars.
More than that—
his aura had multiplied in strength several times over,
his savage spiritual pressure radiating like a wild beast unchained.
The instant this image appeared,
it was like dropping a nuclear bomb inside Hueco Mundo.
A shockwave of disbelief and chaos erupted.
Even Grimmjow himself trembled all over with excitement.
"Evolved…!!!
The future me… actually evolved!!!"
His blue eyes widened to their limit,
staring fixedly at the screen.
His breath quickened; his heartbeat thundered.
That man on the screen—
one arm crossed over his chest, smirking with that arrogant, elegant grin—
radiating the full power of a Vasto Lorde…
Grimmjow almost thought he was dreaming.
His fists clenched. His lips trembled.
His whole body shook uncontrollably with ecstasy.
As stated before, the hierarchy of the Hollows divides into three stages:
Gillian, Adjuchas, and Vasto Lorde.
Most Hollows, even after endless battles and devouring their kin,
never evolve beyond the lowest rank—Gillian.
The forests of Hueco Mundo are filled with them,
as common as sand grains.
Then come the Adjuchas—
the level of most Espada.
Few exist, and once they achieve Arrancar form,
each becomes a being with power on par with a Soul Reaper captain.
And finally—
Vasto Lorde.
So rare that they can be counted on one hand.
They are the peak of Hollow evolution,
born with unmatched potential.
To evolve into one after birth?
Almost impossible.
Like a dog growing horns—
the odds were nearly zero.
So when Grimmjow saw that he, too, had reached that level in the future,
it was no wonder his whole body trembled in disbelief and joy.
No one in Las Noches was more thrilled—or more unhinged—than he was.
"Damn it… Impossible!!!"
"Grimmjow actually surpassed us in the future—became one of the five Vasto Lordes?!"
"How can that happen?!"
The first to break composure was Nnoitra.
Jealousy filled his eyes—
hatred and envy toward future Grimmjow.
That evolution was his lifelong dream.
And yet this fool had achieved it first!
Of course, he wasn't alone.
Yammy, Zommari, Szayelaporro—all looked shaken.
Shock, envy, and awe filled their expressions.
The pressure radiating from the screen—the pure dominance of Grimmjow's evolved self—
made even them instinctively feel inferior.
When they turned to look at the real Grimmjow beside them,
none dared show the slightest disrespect.
Even if he wasn't a Vasto Lorde yet,
they already treated him as one.
Beneath the throne, Gin Ichimaru narrowed his eyes.
His fox-like tone carried both amusement and astonishment.
"Captain Aizen… one surprise after another. I never thought I'd see a Vasto Lorde's evolution in my lifetime."
Aizen nodded slightly, face calm yet voice approving.
"Throughout Hueco Mundo's history, successful evolutions are nearly nonexistent…
Grimmjow truly is the man I expected him to be."
As he spoke, that familiar gentle smile returned to his face—
the same one he used to wear back in Soul Society.
It looked kind, even proud—
as if genuinely pleased for Grimmjow's success.
Yet to every Arrancar and Hollow present,
that smile was terrifying.
They could feel it—
Aizen's invisible pressure, suffocating them until all bowed their heads.
It was like mice before a cat.
Even breathing felt like a privilege.
And in that oppressive silence,
no one dared to even imagine rebelling—
not now, not ever.
Because of that one smile,
the very thought of defiance was erased.
The hall fell silent again.
Elsewhere — the Ice Palace of the Quincy.
A completely different mood reigned.
"What?! That guy's one of the Espada too?"
"A Vasto Lorde's basically royalty among Hollows! How could he cooperate with Soul Reapers—and attack from behind?!"
"That Grimmjow bastard—so despicable!"
Watching the blood-stained battle footage,
the pure-blood Quincies seethed.
Their outrage grew for their fallen comrade, Askin Nakk Le Vaar.
They cursed Grimmjow as a traitor—
a shameless beast who betrayed Hueco Mundo to side with the enemy.
"Damn it…! I was so close to winning!"
"I almost accomplished what even Aizen couldn't—defeating Urahara!"
"I can't believe it ended like this!"
In the corner, Askin slumped, his expression hollow.
Moments ago, he had been brimming with confidence—
now despair filled his face.
Who could have imagined?
It was supposed to be a fair duel.
And yet an "old sixth"—Grimmjow, Espada Number Six—
had backstabbed him.
If Askin knew his attacker's number really was six,
he might have died of rage even sooner.
The video continued.
The conclusion of the battle was fully revealed.
Facing the dying Askin,
Grimmjow grinned and said mockingly:
"Once your heart's destroyed…"
"You can't calculate those deadly doses anymore, right?"
Then he squeezed his hand.
A sickening crack echoed.
Blood sprayed across the ground—
Askin's heart shattered, ending his life before Grimmjow's eyes.
"Damn… Arrancar… I can't believe… you survived…"
Those were Askin's last words, rasped between dying breaths.
Then Urahara stepped into the frame, his messy blond hair shadowing his eyes.
"Ahh… I healed his injuries myself before the battle,"
he said, revealing a shocking truth.
"Those Arrancar who removed their masks under Aizen's hand possess spiritual pressure different from Shinigami.
I thought it might prove useful on the battlefield… so I aided Mr. Grimmjow—and made a temporary alliance."
The revelation shook the entire Soul Society.
"W-What?!
So all those Arrancar in Hueco Mundo were created by Aizen?!"
"That bastard—what else has he done behind the scenes?!"
Within Squad One, the captains were stunned.
Once again, they felt Aizen's sinister reach—
his schemes had gone far beyond their imagination.
Mass-producing Arrancar…
The idea alone sounded insane.
Yet now the proof was before them.
Even the Head Captain looked grim.
No one could pinpoint when Aizen's betrayal had truly begun,
or how he had managed to subjugate all of Hueco Mundo.
How could a single man bend an entire race to his will?
They had no answer.
To them, Aizen was a mystery—
a walking paradox,
a living bug in the world's order.
"It must be the Hōgyoku," said Kyōraku Shunsui, breaking the silence.
"We've already seen it grant him immense power. It's likely he used it—along with his own will—to force those Hollows into Arrancar form."
"Then unless Hueco Mundo itself is destroyed," Komamura growled beneath his helmet, "the number of Arrancar could become infinite…"
His words hung heavy in the air.
(End of Chapter)
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