With the boy's clear shout, Zanpakutō began to transform. This blade, which had accompanied him for more than forty years, finally welcomed its first Shikai. Mist surged out in torrents, flooding the entire laboratory in the blink of an eye, and dazzling white light burst forth along the length of the blade.
All eyes locked onto the boy. Nilu, Peixue, and Dondochakka held their breath, their expressions taut with anticipation, desperate to see what kind of form their benefactor's Zanpakutō would reveal after release. Even Nnoitra's eyes wavered, the usual cruelty in his gaze tempered by an edge of fear—yet also curiosity.
Ulquiorra's reports had given nothing. Not a whisper existed in Las Noches' records about the boy's Zanpakutō. That he would unveil it now, against him, filled Nnoitra with savage pride.
So it's me, huh? Even this brat feels compelled to bare his blade against me. Of course… Espada's strongest.
Mist swallowed the walls and floor, turning the laboratory into a dreamscape of drifting cloud and pale haze. From deep within the fog came faint strains of a piano, melodies swelling and fading, at times solemn and commanding, at times hauntingly serene.
"Gulp…" Peixue's throat bobbed as he stared at the scene in awe, unwilling to blink.
"Listen carefully…" Nilu whispered, wide-eyed, her ears pricked as though afraid to miss a note.
Nnoitra scowled and reached his hand into the drifting fog, but found nothing—only damp vapor slipping uselessly through his fingers.
Then came the echo of measured footsteps.
A figure emerged slowly from the haze. At some point, the boy's frame had been clothed in a plain white robe that wrapped about him like flowing cloud. He walked forward, robes trailing in the mist, eyebrows calm, eyes luminous, his presence ethereal.
The Zanpakutō in his hand had shed its old shell entirely. Its body gleamed pure as carved white jade, veined with a faint radiance like molten glass. The blade stretched slender and straight, its cutting edge pristine as untouched snow, while the spine shimmered in colors of polished glaze. Its guard bloomed like a flower's stamen, white jade petals traced with threads of gold. The hilt was bound in layered white ribbon, gold-edged, and from its end trailed two long silk cords inscribed with shifting black scripture that faded in and out of sight.
Draped in white, Zanpakutō glowing like celestial steel, the boy stepped through mist and light like a god descending from above.
The three followers froze, dumbstruck. Just moments ago, he had been their benefactor, a boy who shouldered burdens quietly. Now, standing before them with divine poise and a blade that radiated sanctity, he looked every inch the Son of God incarnate.
"This—this is what it looks like!" Nnoitra's voice cracked with excitement, eyes blazing with unrestrained fighting spirit.
Su Li raised the jade-glass blade, admiration shining in his gaze. "Beautiful enough… but I wonder just how sharp." His lips curved faintly. The thought of testing it filled him with anticipation.
Nnoitra threw his head back and laughed. "Ha! Boy! Don't think I won't warn you! My Hierro is the hardest in all of Espada! If you think you can cut me, then try it!"
Su Li's focus sharpened, his eyes glinting. Then, with a single motion, he let the blade descend.
Silence devoured the world. For that breathless instant, sound itself seemed to die.
A radiant arc of white light flared outward from the jade-glass sword.
Boom.
Nnoitra's grin shattered. His vaunted Hierro, the steel skin that mocked blades and scorned death, evaporated on contact. His skeleton, his scythe, his body—all crumbled to nothing beneath that white arc. The strongest Espada's defense was erased in an instant, as if it had never been.
But the sword light did not stop.
It carved straight through the ground, splitting stone and steel alike. The walls of the Eighth Palace shrieked apart, collapsing as the light carved through them like parchment. The Ninth Palace split down its spine, severed cleanly in two.
The white blade light pressed on, unstoppable, like a god's decree. Everything before it—stone, steel, air, reiatsu—collapsed the moment it touched.
Through walls, through spires, through the towering gates of Las Noches, the blade's radiance surged forth. It burst from the fortress, spilling into the surrounding desert, its brilliance flooding Hueco Mundo's eternal night.
Only after stretching far into the endless sands did the blade light slowly fade, leaving silence and ruin in its wake.
Within the remains of the laboratory—if it could still be called that—the boy stood cloaked in white, sword lowered at his side. Before him yawned not floor nor wall, but a vast abyss stretching beyond the horizon. The sunlight pierced the shattered ceiling, spilling down to touch his clear face, while in front of him lay a scar that reached to the desert's depths.
The world seemed to hold its breath.
"Rumble…" Collapsing walls groaned around them. The earth trembled faintly beneath their feet. Buildings across Las Noches buckled and fell, undone by the sword's passing arc.
"Gulp…" Peixue's throat worked again, his eyes wide.
The three of them stared at the abyss, pupils shrinking. With one stroke, he had split the world itself. This was no longer power—it was miracle.
He really is the Son of God…
Adoration, awe, fervent devotion burned in their eyes as they gazed upon his back.
But Su Li himself scowled at the blade, now reverted to its sealed form. "What, you're already asleep after just one swing? What kind of constitution is that? Every bone in your body's a lazy bone! And once a day? That's what I'd expect from Byakuya Kuchiki, not you! Fine, fine, sleep then! Best if you never wake up!" His irritation spilled out in sharp mutters, one-sided bickering echoing against the rubble. With a sharp motion, he slammed the blade back into its scabbard.
Xia Ji's rebelliousness gave him a pounding headache. Moments ago he'd been elated; now his good mood had soured completely. Still, he forced his breath steady. Bond with Zanpakutō was not built overnight. Only through time, trust, and communion would true strength reveal itself.
His gaze shifted back to the abyss stretching beneath his feet, his hand propped beneath his chin as thought flickered across his eyes.
"…That swing was a little too fierce. Just how far did it cut…?"
Elsewhere, in the ruins of the Ninth Palace, Rukia sat frozen on the ground, staring into the abyss that had cleaved the palace in two. Just moments earlier she had thought herself dead—until that white light blazed through. Zommari, proud Espada, had been annihilated in a blink, body and soul erased without residue. The light had passed on, leaving only collapse and a scar upon the world.
Now Rukia trembled uncontrollably, her eyes fixed on the bottomless trench. Even captains of the Gotei 13, she thought, could not stand against such a force. In Hueco Mundo, against a power like this, she was nothing but kindling.
So lost was she in dread she did not notice the two figures who appeared silently behind her. White haori trailing, one with scarlet hair tied high, the other pale and regal as a blade of ice. Byakuya Kuchiki and Abarai Renji had arrived.
But neither spoke. Like Rukia, both stared mutely into the abyss.
Renji's lips parted at last, voice rasping like rust. "…How long is this abyss…?"
Perhaps only from the sky could the answer be seen. From above, Las Noches lay in shambles. Towers and walls crumbled in ruin, sub-buildings reduced to rubble. And through its heart stretched the abyss—an impossible scar cleaving nearly one-third of the fortress, its path a straight line from the shattered Eighth Palace through the desert beyond.
It ran unbroken for three thousand miles.
With a single stroke, Su Li had carved an abyss three thousand miles long into Hueco Mundo's land.
The brilliance of that white sword light was absolute.
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