"The exalted Spirit King… is nothing but a puppet!"
Kandaya Anzai opened with a verbal bombshell, his sharp, imperious gaze sweeping the room. That gaze alone lent an uncomfortable weight of credibility to his outrageous declaration.
Hearing those words, Kisaragi Akira froze in disbelief, confusion flickering in his eyes.
Just as mentioned earlier, Akira didn't know the exact details of the world's progression.
But he had seen countless forum discussions about the Spirit King:
—The king who annihilated the Great Hollow.
—The one who shaped the Three Realms.
—The true omniscient and omnipotent being.
And now Kandaya Anzai suddenly claimed that the Spirit King was merely a puppet.
Was Anzai out of his mind? Or had the Spirit King simply grown too old to lift his sword?
Was this something a sane person could say out loud?
As if sensing Akira's questions, Anzai let out a cold laugh and continued:
"The Spirit King resides within the Spirit King Palace."
"The Zero Division—what you might call the Royal Guard—serves solely to protect him."
"But throughout the entire million-year history of the Soul Realm, the Spirit King has never issued a single decree. Every decision that changed the fate of this world was proposed by the Five Great Noble Clans."
"The real rulers of this world aren't the Spirit King… but the nobles."
Around him, the gathered nobles didn't even look surprised. Their expressions carried an air of of course, as though all of this was common knowledge.
They were Anzai's confidants; they'd heard this speech more than once.
And their family records also reflected the same truth: neither the Royal Guard nor the Spirit King Palace had ever interfered with the governing of the Soul Realm.
The true rulers were the Five Noble Houses—and their puppet council, the Central Forty-Six.
This was precisely why these nobles followed Anzai so loyally.
"This world shouldn't be ruled by a single voice."
Anzai lowered his eyes slightly, his voice calm and absolute.
"The collapse of the Kuchinagi family, the advancement of the Artificial Soul Project—everything points to the same conclusion."
"I alone deserve the throne above the heavens."
The instant he finished, the room erupted:
"All hail Lord Anzai—supreme above all!"
Akira's voice was, of course, the loudest.
The recent victory of the rebel army had greatly accelerated Anzai's ambitions.
And with the Artificial Soul Project complete, everything he needed was already in hand.
All that remained between him and world domination was time.
Akira's defection had pushed Anzai's progress bar to 99%.
Just one final push was needed.
Naturally, Anzai trusted him deeply—he had earned it.
After all, once Anzai succeeded, he would become the sole ruler.
And Akira's future rank would rise exponentially.
No one could resist that kind of temptation.
"So what's our next move?" Akira asked, practically vibrating with excitement. "Do we just rally our forces, chop down Yamaji first, then wipe out the Kuchinagi clan, and let Lord Anzai ascend the throne already?"
"You know I've hated Yamaji for ages. I can barely restrain the blade in my hand!"
Anzai glanced at the boy with a hint of pity.
Just as Akira said, ever since joining Genryū Academy, Yamaji had beaten him mercilessly during training.
The First Division building frequently echoed with Akira's wails.
Instead of enjoying the prestige of being a Genryū disciple, he suffered daily torment.
No wonder he harbored murderous grudges.
"The time isn't right yet," Anzai said soothingly. "When the final step is complete, I will wield a strength surpassing all. Even Yamaji will be nothing before me."
Akira blinked at the old man—so full of confidence he was practically glowing.
I was just running my mouth… but he actually believes all this?
Yamaji hadn't drawn his sword in so long the Soul Realm had forgotten what he truly was.
Now even random nobodies dared to bark at the strongest Shinigami alive.
"Lord Anzai… what is this 'final step'?"
No harm in probing deeper now that he had earned the old man's trust.
"Tell me, Akira… have you heard of the Spirit King Fragments?"
Akira shook his head vigorously.
What Spirit Fragments? What Divine Right Hand?
Nope. Didn't ring a single bell.
"The Spirit King Fragments contain traces of the King's power," Anzai explained. "They are among the strongest forces in existence."
"And the Artificial Soul Project allows us to implant temporary souls into a host body, elevating their spiritual power."
By now, Akira understood perfectly.
In simple terms:
Fuse a Spirit King Fragment into your body using Artificial Souls, and you leap an entire tier in strength.
The first step to world domination: gain overwhelming power.
Not bad.
Anzai's intelligence was nowhere near Akira's, but at least he wasn't stupid enough to attack Yamaji head-on.
"With the Kuchinagi clan defeated, the wavering families now understand our superiority. They'll soon come crawling to us."
"And even within the Thirteen Squads… unity is an illusion."
Anzai spread his fingers wide, as though he were already grasping the entire world.
…
"Sōsuke!!"
The thunderous shout echoed through the laboratory, startling Aizato Sou's hand.
The experimental subject in front of him instantly expired.
He sighed deeply, helpless.
Before he could speak, the door slammed open as a figure charged inside.
Aizato twitched.
That strike had broken a door reinforced with layered kidō. Even a senior officer shouldn't be able to break it.
But Akira?
One kick. Door gone.
"What happened this time?" Aizato asked, pouring tea with practiced resignation.
Akira leaned in, glancing around before whispering:
"Top-secret intel—we have evidence that Kandaya Anzai intends to rebel against the Soul Realm."
Then he recounted everything he had heard in Anzai's residence.
At first, Aizato wasn't impressed.
To him, the only ambition that could drive Anzai was the desire to become the sole god of the world.
But the second part caught him off guard.
The claim that the Spirit King was just a puppet.
That the Five Noble Houses truly ruled the Soul Realm.
That the King and the Zero Division never once influenced history.
This revelation shattered Aizato's understanding of the world.
And yet… it sparked an even deeper curiosity.
Why would a being meant to be the one true god be reduced to a puppet?
What exactly were the Spirit King Fragments?
And the supposed Right Hand of the Spirit King… was that literal?
His thoughts drifted—until he noticed Akira crouched by a measuring cup, staring with fascination at a floating eyeball.
Big eye. Little brain.
Hopeless.
"If Anzai declared this openly," Aizato said at last, "then he must already feel confident."
"For now, all we can do is inform Captain Yamaji and prepare for the inevitable chaos."
"Responding as events unfold is the most reliable strategy."
Akira scowled.
"You're not worried the old man could lose? Anzai will have a Spirit King Fragment fused into him!"
Aizato shook his head.
"Every life has a limit—determined by its soul, not by foreign power. Even the Spirit King's strength has boundaries."
"And Anzai is nowhere near Yamaji's level—even with stolen power."
"You can relax."
He paused.
"Besides, Yamaji would never attack the Five Noble Houses unless absolutely necessary."
"He represents order—traditions that have lasted a million years. Breaking them would lead to unimaginable consequences."
"Picture a lake of filth that has settled undisturbed for a million years. Stir it hard… and imagine what rises."
Akira pictured it.
Yeah… the metaphor felt weird.
Pretty sure Yamaji wasn't supposed to be the mud in this analogy.
"So you're saying the only ones who can move against Anzai early… are the Kuchinagi clan and the Shihōin clan?"
He immediately discarded the weak Shiba family as irrelevant.
"But neither of those options is reliable," Akira muttered. "Waiting is too dangerous. Who knows what disaster might happen?"
"Nobles are such a pain."
Aizato nodded.
He agreed.
After a moment of thought, he said quietly:
"There is a faster option…"
…
South Rukon District, Area 1.
In the shadows of a narrow alley, several figures watched the streets and measured the flow of spiritual particles in the air.
Kisukawa Kusake turned to the boy beside him, voice trembling:
"Akira-sama… we're really going to ambush Shihōin Yoruichi?"
"She's the current head of the Shihōin clan… she must have elite guards with her."
Akira shot him a look.
"Correction: not kill. Capture."
"A living hostage is far more useful than a corpse."
"The only obstacle left before Lord Anzai's path is the Shihōin clan. If we capture Yoruichi and force the clan to submit, the road to the heavens is wide open."
"Greatness achieved. Understand?"
Kusake gulped.
"Shouldn't we… maybe inform Lord Anzai first?"
"Damn, Kusake-bro, I didn't know you were this timid."
Akira grinned.
"If you're scared, you can walk away now. Just don't cry later when I'm promoted and you missed your chance."
"Besides, you're not the main attacker anyway. What are you scared of?"
"Don't tell me you can't even use Crimson Smoke Step."
Kusake's face contorted with internal struggle.
Risk… versus glory.
Tough choice for anyone.
Finally, he gritted his teeth.
"Fine! I'll risk my life with you!"
"That's the spirit!"
Just then, several figures appeared at the end of the street.
Black shihakushō.
Right arm marked with the sigil of "Detachment."
Second Division—Stealth Corps.
For some reason, Yoruichi felt uneasy today.
Though the mission was routine, her instincts screamed danger.
"We're withdrawing. Abort the mission."
"But Yoruichi-sama—"
"My word is law."
Her retainer, Ōmaeda Hishigen, swallowed his protest.
Still, he felt proud—he had watched her grow up, and now she truly carried the authority of a captain.
But just as they began turning back—
A massive burst of crimson smoke exploded across the street, swallowing their vision whole.
Hishigen's heart sank.
In West Rukon Area 1—someone dared ambush the Captain of Squad Two?!
"Protect Yoruichi-sama!"
His massive body leapt forward, spiritual pressure surging as he tried to disperse the smoke.
The other squad members closed around Yoruichi, forming a defensive ring.
They were used to fighting from the shadows; this sudden shift into the open rattled them badly.
"Heh… trying to run?"
A deranged laugh echoed from all directions.
A crushing aura descended.
A figure burst from the smoke—heading straight for the strongest among them, Ōmaeda Hishigen.
"Bakudō 61 — Six Rods of Light!"
Hishigen roared the spell and struck out with a prepared binding technique.
Golden rods of light shot toward the charging silhouette.
But a hastily cast kidō could never stop a fully prepared enemy.
Shadowblade Style — Reverse Surge!
A violent arc of sword light erupted, tearing the bindings apart instantly.
Hishigen's pupils constricted.
The enemy was strong—far stronger than anticipated.
He opened his mouth to warn the others—
But the incoming fist smashed into him first.
BOOM.
The impact launched him like a human cannonball, his body tracing a tragic parabola as he crashed at the far end of the street.
One hit.
Instant defeat.
With the greatest threat gone, Akira shot into the crowd like a raging beast.
A single sweeping strike—two more fell instantly.
If the invincible Ōmaeda was down, what chance did the rest have?
And the other nobles were already cleaning up the remaining guards.
Akira only needed to focus on the slightly shorter silhouette in front of him.
"I won't allow—"
Her protest died midway as a hand clamped over her face.
A swift chop to the neck—she collapsed unconscious.
Akira and Kusake stared at each other.
"You recognized her that fast?" Kusake whispered.
"Instinct."
Yoruichi's eyes fluttered open for half a second.
She smirked.
"So… you planning to drag me off and make me your mountain-bandit bride?"
"Heh. You figured it out." Akira grinned. "No point pretending to be a gentleman then."
In one motion he grabbed her slender waist, hefted her over his shoulder, and—
Flash Step.
Gone from the street.