"Maybe they realized that suppressing our consciousness weakens our combat capabilities."
Furōfushi Saitō grinned, though a cruel glint flickered across her face.
"That little guy Masatsuki Aozaki is pretty strong—and ruthless. I like that. Just don't know where he ran off to."
Batsu'unsai Katori paused, then shook his head. "I actually thought he seemed rather gentle."
"That kind of thing doesn't matter!"
Chika Shihōin laughed.
"Perfect. That old geezer Yamamoto took my head off last time—this time, I'm definitely getting payback!"
The original captains stretched their limbs, only to realize that although their consciousness remained intact, they were still being influenced by Hell's will. A voice seemed to echo in their minds, forcing them to obey.
Chika Shihōin let out a furious roar.
His whole body became like a spectral shadow as he charged at Yamamoto, swinging his Zanpakutō with deadly force.
As Chika Shihōin and Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto clashed blades, the other original captains stood still in silence.
Outwardly, it looked like they were closely observing the fight, ready to step in at any moment. But in truth—they were stalling for time.
Hell had granted them free will. So how they carried out its commands was up to them.
After so many years surviving in Soul Society, they already knew how to deal with a superior who was out to make things difficult.
I want to fight too... but what if I can't find the right opening?
In the end, the name of the game was simple—stall.
The nobles from a thousand years ago were tough enough, but Yamamoto was even more stubborn than the likes of Nobutsuna Shigyō and Saizō Sakahone. He kept shielding them.
If it weren't for Yamamoto keeping them in check, with their personalities, they'd have just slaughtered anyone who disobeyed—flood of corpses be damned.
"Togabito, atone for your past sins. Now—go kill them. Immediately!"
Baraggan's voice exploded in their ears, dark and oppressive.
There was something in his words—some sinister power—that made resistance impossible.
The first-generation captains sighed in resignation and surged forward.
They had no choice. Baraggan was Hell's jailer.
To Togabitos like them, Baraggan held absolute authority by Hell's rules.
Smug satisfaction twisted across the skeletal features of Baraggan's face, tinged with a trace of long-held resentment.
Damn it... damn it all!
Masatsuki Aozaki, Sōsuke Aizen—those cursed bastards! They forced me, the rightful King of Hueco Mundo, into this wretched state!
Now look at me. Humiliated, powerless, at the mercy of others!
So what if I'm leading a squad of powerful fighters right now?
On the surface, it might look impressive. But in the end, I'm still just another prisoner.
Even as a jailer here, I still have to follow Hell's rules.
What's the difference between that and being a convict?
It's like doing forced labor in a prison camp!
Sure, compared to the other Togabitos, I don't suffer punishment, so my life is easier.
But for me—for an ancient king—everything I've endured these past decades is the greatest insult imaginable.
First, I was forced to kneel before Aizen. Then, I was mercilessly slain by Masatsuki Aozaki. And even in Hell, I'm still being used—still doing free labor!
How could a proud king tolerate this?
No. I won't stand for it.
I will have revenge!
Aizen and Masatsuki Aozaki may no longer be here...
The ancient king suddenly rose. The black chains wrapped around his body thrashed wildly, writhing and lashing out.
Then, in his grip, they twisted and condensed—forming a massive, pitch-black axe.
"Then let's start with Masatsuki Aozaki's Master!"
Baraggan sneered, his figure vanishing in a blur of afterimages as he charged straight toward Yamamoto.
But just as he was about to reach his target, a figure suddenly appeared in his path.
Baraggan narrowed his eyes—Aizen had somehow already raised his Zanpakutō and was calmly standing in front of him.
Stunned, Baraggan stared at Aizen Sōsuke, disbelief written across his face.
"What did you do to fool my Clairvoyance?"
Aizen didn't respond. That familiar, unreadable smile lingered on his lips, though a subtle glint of amusement flashed in his eyes.
"Clairvoyance?" he echoed.
Baraggan let out a mocking chuckle and pointed to the eye marked with a keyhole-like tattoo.
"Hmph. This is the power granted to us jailers by Hell. No matter how well anyone in the Three Worlds hides their Reiatsu, they can't escape our gaze."
"Is that so? Then I know why you couldn't sense my Reiatsu."
Aizen's smile deepened, laced with quiet mystery.
Baraggan frowned. A creeping sense of dread began to rise.
He opened his mouth to speak again—but Aizen's smile abruptly vanished.
In the blink of an eye, Aizen disappeared.
A chill surged up Baraggan's spine.
He whirled around—only to find Aizen behind him, Zanpakutō gleaming with a cold light as it drove straight toward him.
Baraggan's eyes widened in shock. But empowered by Hell's strength, his reflexes were still razor-sharp.
He twisted aside and swung his massive axe at Aizen.
Yet before the blade could even land, a searing pain tore through him.
Aizen's Zanpakutō had already pierced his chest.
Baraggan froze, eyes wide with disbelief.
He couldn't comprehend it. How had Aizen grown so powerful—powerful enough to defeat him so effortlessly?
Aizen glanced at Baraggan's contorted face and smiled once more.
"It's not that you couldn't sense my Reiatsu—you just didn't realize that you already had."
"When did you start believing I wasn't using Kyōka Suigetsu?"
Aizen's calm voice drifted into Baraggan's ears, but to him, it sounded like utter humiliation.
This was the second time he'd lost to that Zanpakutō—the first was when he'd been forced to bow his head in submission.
That bitter memory resurfaced, and Baraggan's face twisted with fury.
"You bastard—"
Before he could finish, his head flew from his shoulders, scattering into spirit particles and vanishing into the air.
...
With Baraggan dealt with, Aizen turned his gaze toward Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni and Retsu Unohana.
Despite Unohana's assistance, Yamamoto was clearly struggling. His Shikai alone wasn't enough to overpower their enemies.
After all, they were up against the original captains of the Gotei 13—now further empowered by the force of Hell. Their strength had reached a whole new level.
Aizen frowned slightly, lost in thought.
His eyes settled on Yamamoto's aged face, and a certain figure surfaced in his mind.
He slowly removed the glasses from his nose, swept back his short hair, and murmured to himself,
"I'm not like you—I haven't grown weak. But if this world is destroyed... my ambitions will never be realized. That's all there is to it."