Bleach: Stirring Up a Storm

Szayelaporro was gambling on his last chance. Compared to Shinigami, whose body structures were nearly identical, the highly individualized Menos inherently possessed the potential to create miracles—a miracle born of the enemy’s ignorance.

But no matter how much data he collected, he could never know that the mask on Kōe’s face was actually the Shikai of a Zanpakutō. Through it, Kōe could see Reiryoku with his own eyes; his petty schemes were destined to be futile.

Having his spine riddled with awl-swords—for a Shinigami, this level of restraint was more than enough, perhaps even a bit wasteful. Even against a Vasto Lorde-class Menos with an exceptional constitution, such a seal would seem a bit overly cautious.

But Kōe knew he was still one step short. The Reiryoku within the tentacles on Szayelaporro’s back was clearly still under its master’s control.

These tentacles had to be dealt with as well. Even though Kōe was internally quite reluctant to touch them directly, Lady Luck wouldn’t stand by his side forever.

Of course, this thought was also a reflection of Szayelaporro’s inner mind at this moment, just with a slight difference: *’Why has Lady Luck never stood by my side?’*

Two awl-swords pierced into the tentacles on his back in succession, which surprised Szayelaporro a little.

With the Reiatsu in his main torso completely sealed, why was this Shinigami still targeting his tentacles? Was it out of caution, or for some other reason?

This thought vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. It wasn’t that Szayelaporro had figured it out, but rather that he didn’t have time to think. In just a brief moment, two more tentacles on his back were completely sealed, rendering them unable to mobilize a single trace of Reiatsu.

*’Why hasn’t that idiot Baraggan arrived yet?!’*

*’How can he be so slow? How could he possibly be this slow?!’*

In the distance, Baraggan’s Reiatsu, thick with the stench of decay, was steadily approaching. In truth, his speed wasn’t slow at all, but those two thoughts kept repeating in Szayelaporro’s mind.

Compared to the actions of this detestable Shinigami before him, Baraggan was simply too slow!

Kōe was also keeping a close eye on Baraggan’s movements. This impending, unexpected arrival kept Kōe’s nerves taut.

Out of a total of eleven tentacles, Kōe cleanly and efficiently sealed six. By this time, Szayelaporro had also shaken off his temporary panic and began to preemptively mobilize the Reiatsu within his body to resist.

However, with the external restraint of [Bakudō #63・Sajō Sabaku] and the internal damage left by Line of Gunfire, although he slightly slowed Kōe’s pace, he would undoubtedly be sealed before Baraggan could arrive.

*’Foolish! Absolutely foolish, Baraggan!’*

Szayelaporro frantically cursed Baraggan in his heart. At a time like this, what that fool should be doing was rushing to save him immediately! Not releasing his Reiatsu while leisurely strolling over like an emperor on a private inspection tour!

At the same time, he could not allow this Shinigami to make a joke out of them any longer.

Szayelaporro could imagine what a laughable joke it would be in that Shinigami’s eyes for a Menos who had put on such a supreme posture to end up as a prisoner.

Would there come a day when they, the rulers of Hueco Mundo, were reduced to a joke—and in the eyes of the Shinigami they viewed as lowly beings, no less?

No, this was something he, Szayelaporro, absolutely could not allow!

There were still two tentacles on his back that hadn’t been pierced by the awl-swords. Just as he thought this, that despair-inducing coldness washed over him once again, followed immediately by that damned sensation of stagnation. No matter how many times he experienced this feeling, he would never grow numb to it; it would either drive him to utter madness or sink him into an abyss of collapse.

His own pride made it absolutely impossible for Szayelaporro to allow himself to be turned into a collectible by a Shinigami. The final tentacle was also his last capital for resistance!

Positioned behind him, Kōe couldn’t see that Szayelaporro’s delicate face was currently twisted in ferocity. Despite having facial features identical to a human’s, his expression was even more terrifying than the Hannya mask on Kōe’s face.

Just as Kōe was about to touch that final tentacle, it suddenly began to tremble violently. Dense, small red blisters surfaced on its skin, rapidly expanding, and then...

*Bang!* With the sudden explosion of the tentacle, blackish-red liquid splattered in all directions. Judging by the color, it contained more than just Szayelaporro’s blood.

This sudden Reiatsu riot that triggered a self-detonation caught Kōe off guard. Although he retreated in time, some of the liquid still splashed onto him.

What exactly was this liquid? What effect did it have? Kōe didn’t know, nor did he have the time to figure it out. Baraggan’s Reiatsu was already close at hand.

Originally, there was still one tentacle left to seal, but Szayelaporro’s self-detonation essentially acted as a disguised seal for it. Now, he only needed to complete the final step of the sealing process.

Spreading his right hand flat, he balanced the awl-sword in his hand horizontally over his left arm. The awl-swords on his arm coiled upward like spreading vines, eventually stopping at Kōe’s wrist and vanishing from sight.

”Swords stationed at the five positions, the torrent interrupted, without rhythm, without motion. Head of black, heart of brown, flank of red, pillar of azure, tail of white.” As Kōe softly chanted, the phantom image of the chains wrapped around his left arm gradually solidified. By the end, no one would doubt the physical existence of those chains reflecting a profound gleam.

The chains connected to Szayelaporro also underwent a transformation. As they solidified, they rapidly contracted, clashing against each other and emitting a *clinking* sound.

”Chains locking a single realm, intertwining with one another, obscuring the stars and moon.”

Kōe raised a finger on his right hand, tracing a white pattern across the chains on his left arm. The chains, which had already materialized into physical form, seemed to melt, seeping bit by bit into Kōe’s skin and leaving behind an identical black pattern on his flesh.

On the other end, the chains on Szayelaporro finished contracting, tightly binding his body. They converged into a single chain at his abdomen, with the opposite end connecting directly to the palm of Kōe’s left hand.

Szayelaporro watched this entire transformation without struggling, as if he had resigned himself to his fate. His eyes merely stared fixedly at Kōe’s continuously gliding right hand.

Just as Kōe was about to draw the final stroke, Szayelaporro’s pupils suddenly contracted violently into tight pinpricks, his eyes solely focused on Kōe’s right hand.

”Mad theater, rebellion of flesh and bone!”

Under that intense stare, Kōe’s right hand suddenly twitched. Immediately after, the fingers of this right hand—which had just come into contact with the liquid Szayelaporro had sprayed—began to twist joint by joint in different directions, blooming like a hideously ugly firework.

This intense pain appeared out of nowhere, causing Kōe’s body to suddenly jolt. The muscles beside his nose twitched uncontrollably. No matter how strong his willpower was, he couldn’t draw that final stroke, because at this moment, the fingers on his right hand had already curled into a mangled knot.

Suspended in midair, Szayelaporro’s eyes were filled with unconcealable delight. His damaged throat let out a series of meaningless, hoarse, and grating gasps.

”You’re finished. Once I break free, I will absolutely return this humiliation a hundredfold!”

To ensure Kōe was disrupted to the maximum extent, he had endured until the very last step before launching his attack. Of course, retaining his fundamental arrogance, Szayelaporro would never admit that he had actually done so out of fear that this Shinigami—who seemed to possess endless tricks—might have a countermeasure.

And he was able to retain this baseline level of arrogance because, to his right, a figure was gradually becoming clear. The Emperor of Hueco Mundo, Baraggan, had finally arrived.

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