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Szayelaporro, having reverted to his blade form, underwent a grotesque and unnatural transformation, with the lower half of his body mutating into a mass of writhing tentacles while four petal-like wings and a tail sprouted grotesquely from his back, accentuated by purple vein-like patterns stretching from his eye sockets and inverted, wing-shaped mask fragments protruding from either side of his skull.
"You've completely pissed me off," he growled, his tone regaining that cold, clinical sharpness typical of a calculating scientist, though the overwhelming power of his Resurrección had clearly rekindled the arrogance festering within him.
"I'll make you taste the most excruciating punishment in existence," he hissed, voice heavy with a vengeful conviction that promised cruelty beyond imagination.
Even before the final syllable left his lips, his four mutated wings unfurled with terrifying speed, and he crouched low like a predator preparing to strike.
Without any prior signal, an eruption of purple liquid burst violently from his back, unleashing a deluge of toxic substance that poured over the battlefield like a monsoon of death—dense and acidic, staining the sky and plummeting toward the ground with malicious intent, the ambush timed with almost instinctive precision.
Moyu's expression darkened, the lines around his eyes tightening with disgust as he watched the shameless display of biological warfare rain down from above.
"What a despicable opponent," he muttered, unable to conceal his disdain for Szayelaporro's reliance on deception and grotesque theatrics rather than straightforward strength.
As the corrosive fluid descended in heavy arcs, it passed straight through Moyu's form without resistance or effect, eliciting a flicker of shock from Szayelaporro.
Hovering in the air where Moyu had just been, a single pale feather drifted downward, spinning slowly in the poisoned wind.
Far above and far out of reach, Moyu now stood on the edge of a towering skyscraper, having used Shihō's Secret Footwork—Utsusemi, a technique designed to create the illusion of being struck by an attack while the true body relocated with impossible speed.
"So this is your idea of combat?" Moyu's voice carried through the air, cool and cutting, as though bored by the entire performance unfolding beneath him.
At this point in the battle, where the gap in strength had become insurmountable, it no longer mattered how many tricks Szayelaporro attempted—none could change the inevitable conclusion.
"This ends now," Moyu declared, raising his right hand with deliberate slowness and extending his fingers toward the sky.
"I have no interest in indulging your revolting style of battle," he added with finality, his eyes devoid of anything resembling mercy or patience.
"If fate wills it... we'll meet in hell," he concluded, his tone not vengeful, but simply resolute—as if announcing a scheduled execution.
"Hadō no. 4 – Byakurai."
In an instant, spiritual energy surged violently through his body, gathering with precision at the tips of his fingers, where it ignited into blinding arcs of white lightning.
The sheer intensity of the crackling energy warped the air itself, while the overwhelming heat gave rise to a scorched, metallic scent that spread in every direction.
Above them, the sky convulsed into storm, black clouds rolling in as if summoned by divine wrath, casting the entire district into a darkness so deep it swallowed the sunlight whole.
Within that void, the only remaining source of light came from the wild, coiling electricity encircling Moyu's outstretched hand.
Szayelaporro stared upward, paralyzed by dread as the realization dawned upon him that this was no ordinary Shinigami standing before him, but something far more terrifying—something monstrous.
The overwhelming spiritual pressure suffocating the air around Moyu mirrored that of a nightmare Szayelaporro had buried long ago—a memory of a man who had once descended upon Hueco Mundo with such sheer power that even the King of Hueco Mundo had been overthrown.
The man who had seized control of Las Noches and cast his shadow over the entire Arrancar race.
Now, that same presence—nearly identical in weight and terror—was pressing down on him again, and it came from Moyu.
From a distance, Mikami Saiki watched with awe-struck terror, his body trembling uncontrollably, unable to tear his eyes away from Moyu's form, now wreathed in electricity and glowing with divine fury.
In that moment, to him, Moyu was no longer a soldier or a man—he was lightning incarnate.
The crackling Leimang twisted violently, a monstrous entity of living thunder that surged forward like a beast unchained, lunging with white-hot fangs toward its chosen prey.
In a flash of motion, Moyu pointed forward, and the white bolt of Byakurai streaked from his fingertip, splitting the sky and ripping the clouds apart in a blazing line of annihilation.
Thunder roared like judgment itself.
"I will not die here!" Szayelaporro screamed, panic cracking his voice as he attempted to summon a barrier with what strength he had left.
"I'm not going to fall to some low-rank Shinigami—!" he shrieked desperately, but the sentence was swallowed by light.
The lightning overtook him in full, a tidal wave of pure destruction that engulfed his body and the space around it, consuming all with white fire.
When the blinding radiance finally faded, the figure that remained in the air could barely be called Szayelaporro any longer.
His body was scorched beyond recognition, charred flesh peeling from twisted limbs, and the petal-like wings that once adorned his back had been reduced to blackened stumps.
What little remained looked like the fragile corpse of a crow that had flown too close to the sun.
But what truly shocked Moyu—whose eyes remained narrowed in cold vigilance—was that Szayelaporro, against all odds, still clung to life.
At the final moment before impact, the Espada had activated Hierro Pluma—the Orb Curtain—a desperate defensive technique that had used his remaining wings to encase himself in a protective cocoon, shielding the core of his body from total annihilation.
"It seems... I'll need to finish this properly," Moyu said under his breath, already preparing to strike again before the enemy could recover.
However, the space above Szayelaporro's smoldering body twisted unnaturally, a void-like rupture opening in the air, dark and pulsating with dimensional instability.
From within the rift, countless glowing red eyes peered outward, and before Moyu could react, a beam of golden light surged downward and enveloped Szayelaporro completely.
It was Negación—the emergency retrieval technique used by the Menos Grande to extract one of their own from certain death, forcibly phasing them into a separate dimension inaccessible to outside interference.
Bathed in its radiant prison, Szayelaporro stirred, blood caked across his mangled face, but his mouth twisted upward into a grin not of relief, but of obsession.
"You damn Shinigami... I'll remember this," he rasped, hatred simmering beneath each word.
"We will meet again."
With those final words, he disappeared into the golden light, vanishing beyond reach.
The Negación beam retracted slowly, sealing the rift shut once more, leaving behind only scorched air and silence.
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