Seireitei had been under high-level combat readiness for more than half a month.
But surprisingly, there was still no movement from Hell.
The Shinigami on patrol had been working themselves to the bone for days, yet in the end, they hadn't even caught a glimpse of the enemy—let alone fought them.
Naturally, the Central 46 Compound wasn't clueless. They knew this couldn't go on forever. But with the looming threat of a surprise attack from Hell, they had no choice but to keep pushing the Gotei 13 to stay on high alert.
That didn't mean they did nothing, though. Faced with a potential world-ending crisis, they still understood what truly mattered.
They forcibly requisitioned part of the nobles' private forces to support Gotei 13's operations.
At first, the nobles fiercely resisted. Some even scoffed,
"This is the work of lowborn warriors. How can you endanger noble lives over something so trivial?"
But the moment a blade was at their throats, their tone made a complete one-eighty—suddenly agreeable, even eager to cooperate.
As for how many people the nobles had secretly kept hidden in reserve?
Even the wise men and judges could only scratch their heads bald and still never get a clear answer.
In the end, the Central 46 set a minimum quota for each noble house.
Depending on their rank, they were required to dispatch a certain number of family retainers to fulfill the obligation.
Of course, these high-level political games had nothing to do with those who were labeled "low-level warriors."
Their lives remained simple and structured.
Aside from eating and sleeping, their days were spent patrolling their assigned sectors alongside their squadmates.
Now and then, they would "invite" a few would-be criminals trying to take advantage of the chaos to drop by Gotei 13 for a little chat over tea.
Even in such a tense atmosphere, the duty carried in the name of Gotei never wavered.
After standing guard in the sector all day, Kenpachi Zaraki let out a huge yawn.
He knew the enemy could strike at any moment, but this endless waiting was driving him insane.
More than anything, he hated these tedious, dull assignments.
Feeling increasingly restless, Kenpachi scratched his head out of habit.
Then he looked up at the sky, which was gradually darkening.
Night was falling. Soon it would be time to change shifts.
Maybe he could slip away for a bit—go find the old man or that woman and have a proper fight to the death?
Even better if he ran into Boss Masatsuki.
Yachiru seemed to visit the Aozaki household often and knew the place well. He'd just have her lead the way!
The thought alone made a rush of anticipation stir in his chest.
And right then—his eyes suddenly widened, and a wicked grin spread across his face.
Under his excited gaze...
The dimming sky was now completely overtaken by a deep, blood-red glow.
At some unknown moment, a massive door—pulsing with a dark crimson light—had appeared silently in the heavens.
The eerie gate radiated a suffocating aura, as though it led to some unknown realm.
On either side of it, two gigantic skeletal figures slowly pulled the doors open.
A flood of crimson light poured out from within, washing over the sky.
And with that oppressive red glow...
Led by a towering skeleton with half its body blackened, figure after figure stepped through the gate.
They weren't just Shinigami—there were monsters too, twisted beings like Szayelaporro with Hollow holes jutting out at grotesque angles.
BOOM!!!
Reiatsu surged out like an abyss crashing down, sweeping across all of Seireitei with the weight of a collapsing sky.
The urgent ringing in Kenpachi Zaraki's ears only made his grin widen.
He bared his teeth in a savage smile.
"Such Reiatsu... this is incredible!"
He slowly raised his arm, waving his Zanpakutō without aim.
His Shihakushō flapped wildly under the pressure of his terrifying Reiatsu, the sound echoing in his ears like the roar of a battle hymn.
At that moment, the Shinigami throughout Seireitei all looked on in shock as they sensed the overwhelming spiritual force.
It felt as if the entire world was about to be torn apart by this power.
Some of the weaker Shinigami couldn't withstand it at all and collapsed to the ground on the spot.
Even the Captains of Seireitei had grim expressions as they turned to face the massive gate.
They all understood—an unprecedented battle was about to begin.
And their enemies… were the very predecessors who once fought to protect the Soul Society!
...
Not far from the gate, Kenpachi Zaraki looked up at the falling figures descending like shooting stars and couldn't contain his excitement.
He lived to fight the strong—and now, before him, were foes that promised exactly that.
With a wide grin, he raised his Zanpakutō and charged straight toward them.
...
"So this is the Seireitei of today? It's completely different from the one we left behind!"
Among the dozens of figures emerging from the Gate of Hell, a long-haired man glanced down at Seireitei as he descended, sighing with emotion.
"Furuoki, are you stupid or something? When do you think we died?"
Standing beside the first-generation 10th Division Captain, Furuoki Ōtogawa, was a petite girl with purple twin-tails and an eyepatch.
Furōfushi Saitō rolled her eyes in annoyance.
"We died in the middle of a battlefield, remember? The place was a total wreck."
"Didn't Batsu'unsai say so herself? Not long after we died, Seireitei started rebuilding."
"If it's still the same after a thousand years, then we might as well wipe out all those useless noble brats running the place,"she said, swinging her fists with frustration.
"Hmph... I rather liked how things were back then,"
Saizō Sakahone narrowed his eyes, peering into the distance with a crooked grin.
"Last time we were dragged here too fast—I didn't even get a good look around. The changes are pretty major... even the people."
"Yeah... time spares no one. That brat looks almost as old as I do now."
The speaker, clad in fur, was none other than Nobutsuna Shigyō, the first-generation 7th Division Captain.
He scratched his head and laughed.
"At least I still have hair."
"Oh? Baldness bothering you?" Saizō shot back instantly, catching the jab aimed at him.
"You old geezers are just sentimental! Who cares about those relics from the past!?"
Furōfushi Saitō snapped back with clear irritation.
...
Just then, a bald man with glasses seemed to have noticed something strange.
Entetsu Kumoi, the first-generation 9th Division Captain, touched his nose thoughtfully.
"Come to think of it... it's hard to tell by appearance, but Yachiru seems different too."
Standing nearby was a muscular man with short brown hair and blue wrist guards—Obana Danjirō, the original 5th Division Captain.
He blinked in surprise, then asked,
"Are you talking about her Reiatsu?"
A chubby kid with two short braids, who had just been acting all smug, turned his head at their words.
The moment he looked, his expression froze.
"That Reiatsu... didn't she hit a ceiling a thousand years ago? How is it this strong now...?"
"I wonder who's going to run into Yachiru first."
Batsun'sai Katori muttered with a grin, eyeing Uhin Zenjōji—the first-generation 12th Division Captain—whose face was frozen in astonishment.
The rest of the group exchanged looks, then, with unspoken agreement, all averted their eyes from Retsu Unohana.
That lunatic... whoever wants to face her, be my guest!
...
"Eh?"
A young man with white hair and dark skin suddenly let out a surprised cry.
"The one who should be showing up the most isn't even here. What, scared of me?!"
There was a clear note of dissatisfaction in his voice.
That punk who used to throw his weight around the Shihōin clan—he better pray not to get caught now.
If he does, that kid's in for it.
"Scared of you? Don't forget—last time, someone nearly took your head off."
Furōfushi Saitō replied with a snort of disdain.
The look she gave Chika Shihōin was full of contempt.