The moment Kisaragi Akira's eyes landed on Aizen, an overwhelming surge of confidence flooded through him, and even his depleted spiritual pressure seemed to refill on its own.
Aizen rarely displayed his full strength in front of him, but even the faint traces from their past encounters revealed one truth: he was vastly superior. Just judging by spiritual pressure alone, Aizen's power was crushing, undeniable. If Aizen claimed to be operating at captain-level spiritual pressure now, Akira would believe him without a second thought.
Because compared to other overpowered beings, Aizen was the undisputed genius of the Soul Realm.
But power was only one part of it. The more important thing was that when Aizen appeared, Akira's mind sharpened dramatically. Strategies and countermeasures flooded into him; he noticed details he hadn't paid attention to before.
That flashy guy from earlier, his self-introduction… Sahl Apollo Granz? The incomplete Espada No. 8?!
Wasn't he an Akyukas? How had he suddenly gotten this strong? And judging by his appearance, he still hadn't reached the level of a Resurrección.
Had he… awakened?
As Kisaragi Akira was pondering the enigma that was Sahl Apollo, Aizen's composure began to waver slightly. Before stepping out of the restraining barrier, he had considered many possibilities for Akira's behavior: attacking him outright as an enemy, greeting him politely as Soul Society reinforcement, or even offloading the Wastod into his hands and retreating.
What he hadn't anticipated was being recognized in an instant, even with all his disguises intact. How deep was this kid's fixation on him?
"I… I'm not—don't say that," Aizen muttered, still trying to resist.
Akira snapped out of his thoughts and scanned the vaguely human figure now standing at full height. His voice was rougher, and his spiritual pressure completely different from before.
A smirk tugged at Akira's lips, a hint of derision curling at the corner.
Veins bulged faintly on Aizen's forehead. If it weren't for the circumstances, he might have drawn Kyokasui to land a harsh strike on this insufferable brat.
Being looked down on by a mindless idiot like this was, without exaggeration, a lifetime humiliation.
He didn't know exactly what had gone wrong, but this punk had clearly pegged his identity. For now, talking was useless; the priority was to deal with the enemies before him.
In a brief moment of clarity, Aizen recalled why he had come to this plain.
He had initially intended only to hunt a single Wastod that had intruded into the Soul Realm. Yet how had things spiraled so far out of control?
Days earlier, Aizen had noticed the spatial instability of the plain and the overflow of Arrancar spiritual pressure into the Soul Realm. He had requested a mission from Kiryu Harufune specifically to track this area, staking his position. Early developments went exactly as expected: the prey was no match, two spells and it was captured, dying.
But when Kisaragi Akira appeared, everything veered off course.
The moment Aizen saw that familiar figure, his heart sank. From his knowledge of Akira, wherever he appeared, events would spiral into an uncontrollable abyss. And, as it turned out, he had been right.
The Wastod horde was tolerable. But when someone blasted Sahl Apollo out of the black chamber, Aizen braced himself to intervene. No matter how foolish the kid was, he couldn't allow him to die before his eyes.
Aizen's long-dormant killing intent surged.
"Kisaragi, what's the plan?" Akira asked, not mincing words.
Aizen gave him a calm glance. "Same as last time. You handle the main attack; I'll support with Kidō."
"Got it," Akira nodded, his tone crisp. This wasn't just obedience—it was a grudging satisfaction. He still bore a grudge; Sahl Apollo's near-miss virtual attack could have sent him to the Soul Society graveyard. He needed to reclaim his honor in the Seireitei's 11th Division.
Historically, every Kenpachi had been a powerhouse against Wastod. Why should he falter? He would fight back.
"The goal isn't to defeat or kill. Just hold them off until reinforcements arrive. Sahl Apollo will retreat if he doesn't want to die."
"I've got this," Akira said with a thump to his chest.
Aizen noticed, with some surprise, that when Akira had been hit by Sahl Apollo's virtual attacks earlier, he hadn't even sustained a scratch. His spiritual body defenses were almost on par with an Arrancar. With Aizen handling the support, it was safe—so long as Akira didn't get reckless.
Akira spat onto his palm, rubbed it, and removed his tattered haori and armor, tying them around his waist. Useless clothes only slowed him down.
Prepared, he set his gaze on Sahl Apollo, whose elegance in the distance made him a perfect target, and grinned.
"Those who trespass on my territory will be crushed!"
Spiritual pressure surged violently. Purple flames erupted hotly, white lightning danced through them, and the sheer weight of his presence slammed down like a hammer.
Facing a Wastod-level Sahl Apollo, Akira didn't hold back. He unleashed his full state, every Kidō pattern activated, fingers clenched, bones grinding audibly in his palms.
With a savage grin, he became like a battering ram, stepping forward in an instantaneous flash, crashing through Sahl Apollo's materialized pressure!
Boom! Ripples spread outward in visible circles.
A flicker of surprise crossed Sahl Apollo's eyes. From the moment the Kidō-enshrouded figure appeared, he'd sensed something off. He had expected reinforcements from the Soul Society, but the one striking now was the very same boy he had earmarked as an experiment. Too bold, perhaps.
Aizen narrowed his eyes, fingers splayed, spiritual pressure thick around him, a faint purple dancing between the currents.
"Come. Touch it. Step into my specially crafted spiritual particle toxin, and your pressure will be nullified. Then your body is mine."
He had never seen a Shinigami with near-Arrancar strength up close. Astonishing…
But Sahl Apollo's smile froze the instant Akira's attack landed. The straight punch had suddenly transformed mid-flight into a sidekick, twisting his waist and unleashing the full power of his body.
There was no time for cursing—the impact sent Sahl Apollo flying, bending him ninety degrees, his face contorted to its limit.
The air howled with friction as he crashed into the edge of the plain, dust billowing.
Akira pressed the advantage, granting his opponent no respite. Against a foe so much stronger, even a moment of hesitation could be fatal.
Sahl Apollo carved a deep trench into the scorched ground, unbridled rage blazing like a furnace.
"You… insignificant vermin—"
Before he could finish, Aizen had completed his incantation. The 63rd Kidō, Thunder Roar Cannon, erupted!
A torrent of lightning surged like a furious river, arcs of electricity searing the air, descending like divine punishment. The immense column swallowed Sahl Apollo, incinerating and corroding his defenses.
Only then did Sahl Apollo realize—the boy hidden in the faint light was the real threat. The flashy kid might look intimidating, but his raw output couldn't harm him.
Sahl Apollo narrowed his eyes, preparing to lock onto Aizen, but before he could act, Akira—reckless and brimming with confidence—descended like a meteor, his fists ablaze, burning as if to ignite the very air.
A formidable display. Yet Sahl Apollo dismissed him, thinking him too weak to matter… for now.
But as Akira struck, purple flames igniting his frame, something clicked. Spiritual particles were burning!
The air roared as his protective field shattered; a spray of blood erupted from his fists, skin cracking under the sudden force. He blazed like a sun rising from the horizon, light radiating in every direction.
With a deafening crash, his fist pierced Sahl Apollo's defense. Bone shattered. Unimaginable force surged into the chest.
Boom! Sahl Apollo flew backward, trenches forming as waves of dust and energy rolled across the plain, leaving a gash dozens of meters long.
Even Aizen was taken aback. Akira was strong—absurdly strong. And this was only at an upper-tier seat-level spiritual pressure. Imagine if it climbed higher; he might challenge Yamamoto's commander seat.
He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Akira was unpredictable, but not that reckless.
"Supreme ruler, mask of flesh."
"Twin Lotus Ascension, crowned by man!"
"Azure Fire Wall, inscribe the twin lotuses, await the inferno from afar."
"Kidō #73: Twin Lotus Azure Fire Descent!"
The words rang over the plains as sparkling Kidō light blossomed from Akira's fingertips, dazzling as the brightest spring blooms. Though he had learned higher-level Kidō, this move fit the situation best.
Aizen's spiritual pressure locked onto Sahl Apollo, leaving no room for him to breathe.
As Akira struck the deep trench, the 73rd Kidō ignited: blue flames erupted into a streak of light, swallowing the dust-obscured Sahl Apollo.
Boom! The explosion shook the skies. Extreme heat boiled instantly.
The Kidō hit with precision, yet Aizen's brows furrowed. Sahl Apollo, it seemed, was absurdly strong.
A twisted figure stepped from the smoke. Sahl Apollo emerged, chest slightly caved, skin charred, wounds healing before their eyes.
"Pathetic vermin…"
Akira's jaw tightened. No matter—Sahl Apollo absorbed a full-power strike and barely felt it. How could they win? And his spiritual reserves were beginning to show signs of strain.
"Same as always?" Akira glanced at Aizen.
"I'll handle it," Aizen sighed. Wastod's strength far exceeded expectations; Akira's previous experience with Akyukas couldn't predict this level.
As Aizen prepared to distract and buy time, a blindingly hot pressure erupted from the Seireitei's direction, like the sun itself crashing down. A column of light surged into the sky!
Sahl Apollo's grin froze. His neck creaked like rusted gears as he realized the light was closing in. Cold sweat soaked his steel-like skin.