Chapter 222: Wandenreich
Kurosaki Ichigo did not even know when he got hit.
One moment, he was chatting with Seireitei's Shinigami about nothing in particular, the kind of meaningless small talk that filled the gaps between fear and duty. The next, his vision sank into darkness like someone had poured ink over his eyes.
Then, in that darkness, he saw a man.
Emaciated. Gaunt. Draped in a white robe, chin propped in his hand, staring at Ichigo with open impatience. The man said something, as if he had already grown bored of the answer, and Ichigo lost consciousness.
Truthfully, the lower rank Shinigami had no grand ideals to speak of.
Their attitude toward the Ryoka was complicated, but not because they carried some deep hatred or conviction. It was simpler than that. Once they confirmed Ichigo was not here to slaughter them, they calmed down. Faced with a power that could overturn half of Seireitei by force, they chose the only sensible option, cooperation.
They talked.
They shared what they knew.
And what they knew was painfully small.
What the foot soldiers saw and what the captains saw were two completely different worlds. The lower ranks did not have channels. They did not have access. They only had rumor and overheard fragments, stitched together into whatever story helped them sleep.
One of them even swore chakra was the power of hell, and that this was hell's retaliation.
Ichigo almost laughed.
It was when he asked a careless question, the kind that made people glance over their shoulders.
If the nobles were truly criminals, should they be overthrown? If they had committed sins, should they not be punished?
That was the moment the shadows moved.
The Quincy did not massacre the Shinigami. They did not even waste time with threats. They simply made Ichigo's head go dark, and dragged him into the shadow realm as neatly as sweeping dust off a floor.
Fast. Clean. Pleasant, almost.
Too pleasant.
Pleasant enough to make you wonder if you imagined it.
And yet, Ichigo knew exactly who the impatient, sickly looking man was.
Because Ichigo knew everything about Yhwach.
That man was Askin Nakk Le Vaar.
One of the Wandenreich's Sternritter. Schrift D, Death Dealing. The symbolic ability, The Deathdealing.
Among the Sternritter modeled after the Zero Division, Askin's power was the kind that made even experienced fighters feel disgust. It was not a blade. It was not a fist. It was a rule.
By regulating perception, he could turn an ordinary substance in the body into a fatal trigger, forcing the body to accept a false value as truth. If Askin declared something lethal and adjusted the lethal dose to 0.01 milliliters, then as long as your body contained 0.01 milliliters of that substance, you died.
Ichigo's sudden blackout was the same idea. A lethal dose adjusted, then applied.
But the question was obvious.
This thing operated on spiritual pressure, on reishi.
So why would someone using chakra get dropped by it?
Then the answer surfaced in Ichigo's mind almost immediately.
Ah. I am a clone.
He did not panic. If anything, a strange calm spread through him, like a hand pressing down on a boiling pot.
Most people thought his connection to Aizen was simple, that he had been tricked, dragged along, and shoved onto a battlefield he did not understand.
The truth was more complicated.
Ichigo had mastered the Shadow Clone Technique and the Wood Clone Technique. He had learned strange systems and stranger concepts. He had absorbed chakra like it was breath. And Aizen Sosuke had almost poured everything he knew into Ichigo's mind.
Six months of training, multiplied by countless shadow clones, was Ichigo's real trump card.
Even if he still refused to admit the near bottomless power in his body, he knew what he was now.
Aizen did not hide much. He explained. Directly.
Including Yhwach.
The words returned to Ichigo with sharp clarity.
What Yhwach masters is the ability of omniscience and omnipotence. In this world, he can only be forced to attribute everything to death through misleading enticement, illusions, and other methods. Aside from that, he is almost impossible to truly kill.
But his understanding is incomplete. He confirms reality through the souls in the Quincy, and his future sight has limits. He cannot distinguish which future is real and which future he needs. He must confirm with his Sternritter before he can anchor it. That is the risk of his ability. I am not sure if chakra can resist rule based powers like that, but I advise you to act through a clone.
Although your abilities have changed a great deal, Ichigo, you still cannot threaten someone of Yhwach's level. Even the Sternritter may harm you.
What you need to do is simple. Seal your memory, then use a Wood Clone.
With an ability that can synchronize memories, why take risks in person?
…
Aizen, you were completely right.
If I were not a Wood Clone, I might have actually been dragged into the Wandenreich and delivered straight to their throat.
Ichigo stared blankly at the unfamiliar room around him.
Pure white architecture. Clean lines. A sterile beauty that felt less like a hospital and more like a shrine. Everything looked deliberate, as if color itself had been judged guilty.
His body refused to respond. The Deathdealing still held him down, leaving him with the humiliating reality of being awake and helpless.
Fine.
It did not matter.
He was a Wood Clone. Death here meant nothing. The moment this body ended, the consciousness would snap back, and everything would be transmitted.
All he had to do was act normally.
This clone carried spiritual pressure and chakra, blended together so tightly that even Ichigo could forget where one ended and the other began. Let them try to tell the difference.
As Ichigo's thoughts scattered, a soft sound came from the left.
A hidden door opened, sliding aside without a creak.
A girl stepped in.
White clothes. Waist length hair. A face that looked pure at first glance, until you noticed the heat behind her eyes. She looked at Ichigo lying there, and a bright, delighted smile spread across her lips.
"You are awake? Kurosaki Ichigo. We have heard your stories for a long time. Everyone wanted to meet you. But I got here first."
"We?"
"Do not think the Quincy are primitive people without information," she said lightly. "We have been watching you."
She licked her lips, as if tasting the moment, then smiled even wider.
"My name is Bambietta. I am a Quincy. What about you?"
"Kurosaki Ichigo…"
"Oh, Ichigo," Bambietta repeated, savoring it. Her gaze slid over him, lingering shamelessly on the parts of him he could not cover, and her smile sharpened as if she had discovered a treasure. "You have a nice body."
Ichigo tried to shift away, but his muscles did not listen. His throat tightened in frustration.
Bambietta leaned closer, pressing herself against the edge of the bed with invasive familiarity, breath warm, presence bold.
"If there is a chance," she whispered, "do you want to play with me?"
"Play?"
"Yes. That kind of play."
She said it with a straight face, like she was asking for a snack, and Ichigo felt heat rush straight to his ears.
Bambietta noticed immediately.
A frivolous grin appeared. She lifted a finger and tilted his chin, studying his flustered expression like it amused her more than any answer could. The pink flash of her tongue between her lips, the intimacy of her breathing, it was so brazen that Ichigo almost wondered if this was some illusion layered on top of the Deathdealing.
Bambietta's figure, no less striking than Orihime's, seemed to blur at the edges with a strange haze. She tugged at her clothes, letting fabric slip just enough to make the intention clear, then stretched her fingers toward his chest.
"I have been lonely in this black and white world," she said softly, voice turning sweet in a way that felt dangerous. "I always wanted a lively, cute boy to keep me entertained. I think you will definitely become my cutest…"
Her fingertips hovered just above him.
Then a hoarse voice cut through the room like gravel.
"Bambietta, stop playing. This is someone His Majesty wants."
A man stepped in.
He looked like a walking corpse, skin pale, body studded with sharp objects like he had been stitched together by a cruel craftsman. His eyes locked onto Bambietta, and his voice dropped lower.
"His Majesty wants to see him. You should not do this. Otherwise, you will die."
Bambietta clicked her tongue, pulling back with an annoyed sigh.
"Tch. I was thinking about trying to blow off one of his arms or legs."
"Eh?"
Ichigo forced his face into a shocked expression, like a proper captive should. Inside, his mind raced cold and fast.
Bambietta straightened, adjusting her clothes with leisurely confidence. She settled her hat, swept her long hair back, and looked at Ichigo as if he was something she had already claimed.
"Blow off your arm or leg?" she repeated, mocking his tone. "You really are stupid. How could a guy escorted in like this be handled by an ordinary Quincy?"
She held up a badge, a cross star emblem that carried a weight far beyond decoration.
"Bambietta Basterbine," she said, voice flat now, the playfulness thinning into something sharper. "Sternritter."
Her smile returned, but it was not sweet anymore.
"Also the one assigned to monitor you while you stay in the Wandenreich. His Majesty said you should see our situation, so I gave you a little service. A little service."
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