"I refuse."
Those two words, simple yet absolute, carried through the blood-drenched air like thunder.
The quincy masters froze—Bazz-B, Cang Du, Quilge, and even Askin's breath caught.
Before coming to Hueco Mundo, they had imagined countless outcomes.
In one, they would find the desert realm weak and subjugate it easily, forcing its denizens into servitude beneath the Wandenreich.
In another, Hueco Mundo might prove strong—strong enough to be "worthy" of alliance.
Though they had thought of the possibility that Mazuru might refuse their offer.
But secretly, they'd hoped he wouldn't.
Now, after being restrained, powerless, and stripped of reishi control, they no longer had the luxury of pride.
They were fish laid upon the butcher's block—and Mazuru held the blade.
Survival was the only goal left.
And the best way to live was to convince the King of Hueco Mundo that they were still useful.
Mazuru looked at their shifting faces and smiled faintly.
"As you said before," he began evenly, "you judged the worth of my Las Noches by testing our strength in battle."
His crimson eyes darkened, voice sharpening like drawn steel.
"The same logic applies in reverse."
He paused—just long enough for the weight of silence to sink in.
"Through the battles you fought, I have already judged your worth. And you are not qualified… to be my allies."
The words were cold and cutting, each syllable deliberate.
The insult was open, merciless.
"Arrogant!" Askin snapped, rage bursting through the facade of calm.
It wasn't just anger—it was disbelief. Even arrogance had limits. Mazuru might be powerful, yes, but in their eyes, even his might paled before the infinite reach of their Emperor, His Majesty Yhwach.
The King of Hueco Mundo should have been honored by the offer of alliance. Instead, he dared to refuse it—to mock it.
Askin's expression twisted. "You'll regret those words!" he spat, his voice shaking with fury and defiance.
He didn't care anymore whether he provoked Mazuru into killing him. Unlike Bazz-B, who still sought purpose, Askin was unafraid of death. His entire fighting philosophy was life for life.
If he could take Mazuru down even in death, he would.
"Regret?" Mazuru repeated softly. A faint, icy smile crossed his lips. "There may be things in this world I regret—perhaps even people. But you, quincies, are not one of them."
That was when it happened.
"...Yeah?"
A cold, resonant voice—one that was not Mazuru's—echoed through the space.
Bazz-B froze. Cang Du stiffened. Quilge's eyes widened.
That voice—they all knew it. It was the voice of their King.
"Your Majesty…?" Cang Du whispered.
They turned instinctively toward Askin.
The quincy of poisons looked as bewildered as the rest. His mouth opened, but no sound came. The voice wasn't his—yet it came from within him.
Mazuru's gaze sharpened. He tilted his head slightly, a flicker of interest in his eyes. "What a surprise." he murmured.
Before Askin could comprehend what was happening, agony erupted through his body.
*Aaaaaaghhhhh!*
The scream tore across the battlefield. A ghostly light burst from Askin's chest—a human silhouette forming within it.
The spectral figure rose, tearing itself free from the quincy's body. It ignored the crimson mist that bound all others, emerging effortlessly into the air.
Askin's power faltered in an instant. His The Deathdealing ability vanished. His reishi circuits collapsed.
Then the poisons he had once controlled—the very toxins that made him invincible—turned inward.
His body began to corrode, cell by cell. Skin blackened. Veins ruptured.
His scream rose again, desperate and hoarse.
*Aaaaaaahhhhhh—*
But the phantom that had emerged from him watched with complete indifference.
Bazz-B's jaw clenched. A muscle twitched near his eye.
'Still as cold-blooded as ever, Yhwach.' he thought bitterly.
That cruel efficiency—that perfect detachment—was exactly why Bazz-B had once vowed to kill him.
The idea flickered for an instant, then died beneath instinctive reverence.
He straightened, as did Cang Du and Quilge, and all three bowed their heads deeply.
"Your Majesty!"
The spectral figure lifted its gaze, meeting Mazuru's eyes. Its presence alone was suffocating—ancient, vast, filled with unyielding certainty.
There was no mistaking him.
The Father of the Quincy.
The Emperor of the Invisible Empire.
Yhwach.
"I'm surprised too." Yhwach said, his deep voice reverberating through the air. His phantom form resembled a shadowed reflection of Zangetsu—dignified, regal, and terrible.
He studied Mazuru with faint curiosity, like one might regard an unexpected storm on the horizon.
In truth, Yhwach had paid little mind to Askin's expedition to Hueco Mundo. The idea of an "alliance" had been Haschwalth's proposal, not his.
To Yhwach, Hueco Mundo was a curiosity, not a concern.
His eyes were set on grander prey—the Soul Society, and beyond that, the very Palace of the Soul King.
His true ambition was to reclaim the strength that had once been stolen from him.
After all, that "strength" was not metaphorical.
He considered it his birthright.
For Yhwach was no mere ruler.
He was the son of the Soul King.
The shinigami who claimed to serve the Soul King were, in his eyes, traitors—vultures feeding on their father's corpse. Their "justice" was the theft of divinity.
And he, Yhwach, would correct that.
He would take back his father's power and ascend as the true Soul King.
His eyes glimmered faintly as he spoke again. "I see now why my connection weakened… it seems part of my soul had gone silent."
Indeed—this was no simple apparition.
As the progenitor of Quincy, Yhwach possessed an ability none other could replicate: Soul Sharing.
When he touched another, he could divide a fragment of his soul and implant it into them. This fragment could heal defects—physical, spiritual, or emotional. In exchange, everything that the host learned—every skill, experience, and thought—would be recorded within that fragment.
At any time, Yhwach could reclaim it, taking back all that the soul had accumulated—and with it, the host's life.
Those who received his "gift" were granted strength, but their souls were no longer their own.
It was from this principle that the Schrift system was born.
His blood, his words, his will—they all carried the same essence. Each Sternritter carried a shard of his soul, branded with a letter of power.
And as easily as he gave, he could take back.
Moments ago, Yhwach had felt one of his fragments—implanted in Mask—begin to fade.
*****
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✓ Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!
✓ Naruto: Senmei Asahi
✓ Naruto: Uchiha's Intelligence Dealer
✓ Naruto: The Fifth Hokage Is Naruto's Uncle
✓ Naruto: Who Made Him a Ninja?
✓ Bleach: In My Second Reincarnation, I Became The Ninth Kenpachi
✓ To Love-Ru: Spoiler Route [R-18]
✓ Naruto: The Accidental Incubus [R-18]
✓ The Academy's Saint Is Too Popular, But He's Not the Protagonist [R-18]