"Ashido, you can't hold this line alone! Fall back and regroup—we need to conserve Reiryoku!"
Shiki flashed to Ashido's side, voice urgent.
Vice-Captain Ashido of the 11th Division hovered mid-air, holding the line against two gaping rifts that continued to spew Hollows.
His blade still moved with ruthless precision—each strike taking down another—but his breath had grown ragged, and sweat glistened at his temples.
This kind of continuous frontline defense was a losing battle.
Yet Ashido didn't even glance at him.
His eyes were locked on the twisting rifts above, voice low and grim:
"Shiki… are you hiding your true strength?"
"…Huh?"
Shiki nearly broke composure. His heart skipped.
How the hell did he notice?!
Was it the Chain Lightning Glyph? Or the Frosted Veil?
No—impossible. He's bluffing.
Shiki adjusted his expression in a heartbeat, slipping into a perfect blend of self-deprecation and feigned modesty.
"I'm just a humble Fifth Seat. Even if I wanted to hide something… what could I possibly be hiding that's stronger than a Captain, Vice-Captain?"
Ashido didn't answer.
A few seconds passed in tense silence before he let out a soft "…Hmph."
Whether he accepted the answer or just didn't care to press further, it was hard to tell.
"Then," he said, exhaling slowly, "get back to the others. I've got a really bad feeling about this."
"A bad feeling?" Shiki didn't budge.
"Then why not have Kenpachi Kuruyashiki take the sky? He's the strongest here, right?
You think you can hold out longer than him?"
Even as he spoke, Shiki's eyes flicked downward.
Something on the battlefield below caught his attention.
The Hollows around Kenpachi Kuruyashiki… were swarming him. Not just attacking—flooding toward him in endless waves. Even as dozens fell, more surged forward with suicidal momentum.
This isn't natural.
Low-level Hollows were supposed to be feral. Instinctive.
Not organized. Not charging in formation like soldiers.
Then Shiki saw it—a faint ripple of spirit particles around Kuruyashiki's feet.
A shimmering aura of Reishi pulsed outward from his location, subtle but persistent.
Like scent from bait.
"You noticed," Ashido said hoarsely, just having repelled a flanking flying Hollow.
"Captain Kuruyashiki cast Lure Bait on himself. It's a spirit signal no Hollow can ignore."
Ashido finally glanced at him.
"That's why the Captain can't come up here. If he ascended, the rifts would go berserk. The Hollows would pour out faster, maybe even rupture the veil between realms. His place is on the ground—drawing them in. Taking the heat."
Shiki nodded.
So Kenpachi wasn't avoiding the aerial assault—he was anchoring the entire battlefield below. Acting as the ultimate decoy, the immovable center of gravity holding the storm together.
Without him, this whole operation would collapse.
Shiki raised his hand again.
Another Chain Lightning Glyph streaked out—arc, twist, flash—piercing five Hollows in rapid succession.
His brows knit slightly. The strain was setting in.
Each high-level Kidō technique had drained his reserves. In this Reiryoku-starved world, every bit mattered.
And now it's catching up.
"Has the seal release gone through?" he asked, glancing toward Ashido.
By that, he meant the spiritual pressure limiter—a restriction placed on Vice-Captains and above to avoid overwhelming the Living World. In emergencies, this limiter could be temporarily lifted.
Ashido paused mid-swing, surprised Shiki even knew that detail.
But then shook his head.
"This mission didn't have limiters to begin with."
"…What?"
Now Shiki was genuinely surprised.
It was standard protocol—any Shinigami above a certain threshold needed to be suppressed to protect the Living World from collateral damage.
This mission had started as routine purification, so how—?
Ashido spat to the side, bloodied spit hitting the wind.
"Limiters are meant to protect the world from us."
He pointed downward.
Shiki followed his gaze.
The land below was scorched, blood-soaked, smoke rising in towers. Burnt trees, torn tents, shattered ground—Reiryoku pollution from dead Hollows and residual spells churned like fog.
"This place is already ruined," Ashido said. "HQ knew it might be. So they filed the exemptions in advance."
No limiter. Full power authorized.
Shiki said nothing.
But that meant the enemy could be just as powerful. Or more.
He looked again at Ashido—whose breath was growing heavier, dead sweat soaking the back of his Shihakushō.
Things were spiraling.
And then—crack.
A sickening snap echoed from the sky.
A moment later, a wave of twisting, crushing, murderous spiritual pressure came crashing down.
"Urgh—!" Ashido buckled under the weight, plummeting like a stone.
But Shiki moved instantly—vanishing, then reappearing beneath him with his hand braced against Ashido's back, catching and steadying his descent.
They both looked up.
What they saw made Shiki's pupils contract.
The ten or so smaller rifts in the sky—those thin, crescent-shaped black tears—began to twist and writhe, pulsing with energy…
Then they drew toward each other.
Converging.
Merging.
The crescents bled into one another, until the sky split open entirely.
In their place was a single, massive rift—a void that stretched across the sky, blacker than shadow, wider than any Senkaimon, framed with swirling violet sparks of Reishi that hissed and sputtered like cosmic static.
It was not a gate—it was a wound.
The battlefield fell silent.
Every Hollow below—every beast, no matter how rabid—froze.
Then, from that bottomless void, something moved.
And from the blackness… emerged a mask.
A colossal, deathly white Hollow mask, so large that even just a portion of it dwarfed dozens of regular Hollows combined.
Two empty eye sockets stared down, unblinking.
That thing—that presence—was watching them.
Menos.
…