"I have questions for you!"
The antelope knight's demeanor was stern, her gaze radiating a righteous intensity.
This was a Vasto Lorde of exceptional evolution, one of the rare few with a mask shattered enough to reveal her full face, a top-tier Hollow.
Though her lower body retained the four-hooved form of a massive antelope, her commanding presence made her seem like a knight astride a steed.
Yet, as her scrutiny fell on Makoto, the Shinigami who'd just witnessed the prior scene cast increasingly peculiar glances at the pair.
It felt oddly like a valiant female knight returning from war, pregnant and confronting a deplorable cad.
Even knowing no bizarre tale could exist between Shinigami and Hollow, Makoto had a knack for making people believe, If it's him, he'd pull it off.
The air grew still.
Makoto sensed the strange atmosphere. To preserve his lofty, admired image, he forced a composed expression, adopting the wary yet distant stance typical of a Shinigami facing a Hollow.
"We meet again."
"If I recall, your name is Nelliel, right?"
"It's been nearly three hundred years since our last battle."
"Here to settle the score today?"
His words dispelled much of the Shinigami's odd speculation.
Some even looked ashamed, how could they suspect Captain Makoto with such malice?
He'd just saved them from the Forest of Menos!
Such was Makoto's subtle verbal maneuvering.
Hmph!
A few words to clarify the situation and frame her as the enemy!
Surely that would stop their wild imaginations?
Or so he thought.
He didn't realize how his tactics screamed guilty conscience.
Katori, supported by Harribel, lifted her head, her gaze through her glasses brimming with amusement, a faint smile curling her lips.
As expected.
No sooner had Makoto spoken than Nelliel's face flushed crimson. Perhaps recalling their "life-or-death duel" from years ago, her hand trembled as she raised her bone lance.
"Y-You... you did do something back then, didn't you?!"
"?"
Makoto's expression froze.
Three centuries later, he couldn't immediately recall what she meant.
Then, Nelliel's voice rose, practically shouting, "That time!"
"What did you leave inside me?!"
"?!"
Her words stopped the Shinigami's budding remorse in its tracks.
All eyes turned to Makoto.
As Nelliel spoke, she seemed to recall that familiar sensation, instinctively clutching her chest, muttering through gritted teeth, "That burning!"
"Sticky, clingy!"
"Strange, overwhelming rush that left me clueless about what to do…"
"Like some inexplicable curse!"
By the time she finished, everyone saw it clearly!
In Nelliel's green eyes, pink, heart-shaped patterns flickered.
Her face burned with embarrassment!
Makoto's eyes widened.
It clicked.
[Hidden Rule #3: Theoretically, all who've experienced Makoto's Playlife World form a unique bond with him, growing closer over time on the 'self-ecstasy' plane.]
Among those who'd shared his Playlife World and survived, one was Unohana, now a quantum-state "teacher/wife." Another was Saito unable to cut ties with a certain scoundrel despite his dalliances, too soft to even strike him.
But if we're being precise…
Nelliel was the first guest in his Playlife World.
In the Playlife World, they'd clashed countless times, forging a profound bond… on multiple levels.
But there was no time to dwell.
"Don't spout nonsense!"
He thrust out a hand, desperately defending his reputation. "That was a fight! A fight!"
"It was just my Shikai's ability!"
His explanations sounded feeble, and the onlookers' gazes shifted from curious to horrified.
No matter how charming Nelliel's face, her lower half was still a giant antelope!
Makoto-sama… did he swing like that?!
Nelliel, meanwhile, seemed deaf to his words.
Perhaps it was an illusion, but she felt her centuries-honed rationality crumbling before Makoto, like a sandcastle swept away by a tsunami.
Even the sturdy foundations were eroding, collapsing into grains under time's torrent.
She hadn't noticed the heart-shaped glint in her eyes, activated after three centuries, radiating an astonishing infectiousness.
Lifting her gaze to Makoto on the high ground, she was transported back three hundred years.
That year, newly ascended as a Vasto Lorde, she'd stumbled through a Garganta into the war-torn Soul Society, meeting a Shinigami named Makoto.
In that unprecedented battle, his bizarre Shinigami techniques left a deep scar on her heart.
That mark, like an indescribable thread, bound her to him across vast time and space.
Despite her efforts to avoid him and mend the emotions buried in her soul, facing him now, Nelliel realized…
It was futile.
"A fight… huh?"
"You're right."
She took a deep breath, forcing down her unseemly expression, raising her lance toward Makoto, her gaze hardening.
Only now did she resemble a true Vasto Lorde, forged through countless fallen souls.
With her final words, a verdant reiatsu, surpassing even Harribel's, surged around her, roaring skyward like a torrent.
"If this mark came from a fight…"
"Then let a fight end it!"
"If I defeat you, that feeling should vanish, right?"
In the end, Shinigami and Hollow would speak through iron and blood.
"…"
Nelliel's resolve solidified.
This was fine.
Makoto, hearing her words, paused, his expression subtly shifting.
After a moment, he said, almost awkwardly, "Uh, yeah."
The instant the words left his mouth,
A sudden dust storm erupted beneath the antelope knight's hooves.
Wielding her lance, Nelliel's four hooves thundered, her form a blend of piercing sword and unyielding wall. She tore through dozens of meters of swirling dust at a breathtaking speed, carving a vacuum tunnel, charging unhesitatingly toward Makoto.
Spurred by him all these years, Nelliel, despite being among Hueco Mundo's elite Vasto Lordes, never slackened her training.
From honing her reiatsu and pressure to refining techniques and tempering her body, whether steel skin, Sonído, or her prized lance mastery, three centuries had vastly elevated her skills.
Her ability to single-handedly reduce a Frankenstein, capable of rivaling standard Vasto Lordes, to fragments proved her relentless discipline.
Now, even among Vasto Lordes, she confidently faced any challenger alone.
Thus, confronting Makoto, the man who'd left a "profound mark" on her, she felt no trace of fear.
She was eager to try.
Use that move, Makoto!
Even as a "captain" among Shinigami, you can't face my full strength like this!
Let me defeat you again in that "sick world"!
This time, even if victory meant pinning this man beneath her, she wouldn't hesitate!
The pink glow in her pupils blazed brighter.
But sadly…
Times had changed, Knight Miss.
As her lance's reiatsu peaked during her charge, Makoto drew his blade and stepped forward.
His sword met the oncoming lance without flinching.
Clang!
Blade and lance clashed, unleashing a piercing metallic ring.
Sparks scattered like dense rain.
The lance tip and blade edge arced skyward, shattering iron sparks.
A flicker of shock crossed Nelliel's resolute gaze.
The immense inertia and force of her massive charging form were effortlessly nullified by his single strike. Her hooves, sinking deep into the sand, felt an odd weightlessness as her lance tilted upward.
As if his casual slash had lifted her entire body.
How is this possible?!
Even after three centuries, in Nelliel's mind, Makoto remained the weak Shinigami who'd matched her only through his Zanpakutō's unique ability.
She believed her progress should rival his.
But…?
Before the thought could fully form, Makoto's blade twisted along the upward force, carving a swift "7" in the air, descending without pause toward the bone armor over her heart.
Snapping back, Nelliel focused on his blade, her lance whirling.
Clang!
Blocked!
The thought barely surfaced.
Then, his movement reflected in her vision.
His blade, neither fast nor slow, struck her lance's shaft, showing no sign of stopping.
What's?!
Makoto's blade swept past with his arm's extension, tracing a silver arc through the air.
Boom!
This time, he gauged his strength perfectly.
The slash, wrapped in a gust, sent Nelliel's massive form, lance and all, hurtling back, her hooves leaving the ground.
Enveloped in ochre currents, her heavy body skidded across uneven sand, struggling to adjust mid-tumble. Unable to halt her momentum, she drove one lance into the ground, carving a trench over thirty meters long, yet still didn't slow. Summoning another lance in her other hand, she plunged both into the earth, her hooves digging in, finally stabilizing.
Lifting her head, her eyes, still tinged with pink hearts, held only bewilderment and shock.
How is this possible?
Makoto's voice drifted lightly, yet clearly, to her ears.
"Don't look so surprised, Nel-san."
"I'm prone to getting cocky."
His nonchalant words sparked a flicker of irritation in her.
But, recognizing close combat was futile, she swiftly shifted tactics.
Before Makoto could approach, Nelliel reared up, her thick-furred front hooves rising with her proud form. Like a bow stretched to its limit, she channeled her reiatsu into the lance in her right hand.
Condensing it to its peak, she let out a fierce cry:
"Gamuza's Lance-"
The moment her voice fell, the bone lance in her hand was enveloped by overflowing reiatsu, transforming into a radiant jade beam.
Boom!
The recoil alone rippled white shockwaves behind her, the spreading waves sinking her hooves deeper into the desert sand.
Matching it was a strike from a mighty Vasto Lorde, her reiatsu honed to its zenith.
But she wasn't done.
The second lance in her grip shot out amidst the dust waves before the first explosion's echo faded.
Each throw was followed by another lance, formed and launched at blinding speed.
The relentless barrage thickened the dust, engulfing her entirely.
"Sixfold!!"
Unbeknownst to Nelliel, centuries of relentless training had surpassed even her future self from another timeline a millennium later.
What that future self deemed a trump card, she now unleashed in rapid succession.
Her centuries of effort culminated in a spectacle of terrifying grandeur.
Explosions boiled around Makoto, hundred-meter flames soaring skyward, birthing massive mushroom clouds. The relentless reiatsu shredded the surface, obliterating lesser Hollows and the pale great trees' branches, reducing vast swathes of land to charred wasteland.
Though the Shinigami had retreated to spectate this forbidden Shinigami-Hollow saga from afar, the horrifying scene left them wide-eyed.
Watching, Harribel felt a subtle pang of unease.
Were the Vasto Lordes out there this strong?
Newly ascended to their ranks, she couldn't help but wonder if the Special Hollow Division's life had made her too comfortable.
But as the dust settled, Makoto stood unscathed.
Before him, a cracked, invisible wall held firm, blocking all blasts and force mere inches from his toes, forming a divide of sand and scorched earth.
"Bakudō #81: Dankū."
A high-level defensive Kidō, meant to block destructive attacks below the ninetieth rank.
Yet Makoto proved with action:
With enough reiatsu, anything was possible.
"Haven't you realized the gap between us yet?"
"Nelliel!"
The invincible transparent wall crumbled like snow before him, his voice carrying far, devoid of emotion.
Its calm chilled the spine.
"This time…"
"I'm stronger than you!"
With his steady words, Makoto swung his Asauchi forward.
A terrifying sword-pressure torrent blasted forth, cleaving a hundreds-meter-long trench toward Nelliel's position.
Sand, dust, winds, debris, all in his path was annihilated.
Yet, it struck nothing.
His gaze lingered on the empty scene for a fleeting moment.
Then, a piercing whistle, capable of shattering mountains, rang from behind.
Nelliel's massive form had lurked beneath the dust and sand, using the explosion's cover to creep close.
The moment he swung,
Bang!
Seizing the perfect opportunity, Nelliel burst from the ground, hair and sand swirling, her gaze resolute.
She'd long noticed the strength gap!
But…
Just as you, a weaker soul, once fearlessly faced a Vasto Lorde…
How could weakness justify abandoning the fight?
Yet, despite her resolve, her lance's icy gleam veered slightly downward, sparing his heart.
"Well, now."
The young man's voice slipped out instinctively.
Nelliel's mind froze.
Not just her mind...
Her body, steps, and lance tip.
All halted in a trembling stillness the moment his voice fell, her breath forgotten.
Her gaze fixed on the tip of her lance.
Makoto held his blade in one hand, his left hand extended.
His index and middle fingers silently clamped the bone lance inches from his abdomen.
His voice, as ever, was gentle and polite:
"Your aim was a bit off, Knight Miss."
***
Bonus Chapter:
100 Power Stones = 1 BC
300 Power Stones = 2 BC
500 Power Stones = 3 BC
700 Power Stones = 4 BC
1000 Power Stones = 5 BC
***
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