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Even after Aizen's declaration, the courtyard still trembled with disbelief. The captains remained stunned, eyes shifting between him and the golden Negación beam. Only Moyu's expression held steady as he looked lightly toward the sky.
Aizen turned slowly, his voice calm.
"Goodbye, Shinigami. Goodbye, Mr. Moyu. I trust you will surprise me again when next we meet."
With that, he stepped toward the abyssal depths within the Negación.
"Impatient, aren't you," Moyu said quietly. His hand drew the Zanpakutō from his waist, eyes steady. "Then let me give you a surprise now. I hope it satisfies."
As his words fell, bluish-white winds swirled around the blade, swiftly dyed black as they coiled. He whispered almost reverently:
"Tear apart the sky and sweep through Sen-lo. Crazy haze and wind, all cut nothingness—Lan Yin."
At the instant the release echoed, Reiatsu erupted like a collapsing sky, flooding the entire First Division. Above the mountain ridges, all was consumed by Moyu's spiritual storm. The black wind coiled tightly around the slender blade, howling.
"The farthest distance in the world is never truly far," Moyu murmured. "Because across the world… things remain bound."
The tearing cry split the air. Before the stunned eyes of the captains, Moyu swung the sword downward.
For the first time, a rare flicker of surprise crossed Aizen's face. The violent black gale surged into the Negación, drowning the golden light in an instant.
In the distortion, Aizen raised his palm sharply.
"Bakudō 81: Splitting Void!"
A massive transparent barrier unfolded before him, but the storm had already taken shape. The black winds twisted into the body of a dragon, its claws rending space itself.
The barrier cracked, shattered—spiritual fragments scattering like glass across the void. The storm pressed forward unbroken, swallowing everything in its path.
Aizen's gaze sharpened, and he raised Kyōka Suigetsu, its blade brimming with concentrated Reiatsu. Azure sword-pressure burst forth, clashing head-on against the onrushing gale.
Impact tore through the Negación. The collision crushed the stone beneath their feet into dust, hurling the fragments upward before they dissolved into spirit particles.
When the storm finally receded, Aizen's figure emerged again. His white cloak was stained with dust, the pristine image marred at last.
A faint glimmer of regret touched Moyu's eyes.
"So. Even across the world, the cut wasn't enough." He lowered the blade. "If I had pressed harder, perhaps that surprise would have truly satisfied you."
For all his composure, Aizen's expression betrayed a trace of respect. His lips curved once more.
"No. This was already surprising enough. Mr. Moyu… in time, you may be the only one to stand as my equal."
That admission sent ripples of shock through the gathered captains. Moyu, in their eyes, had already risen beyond the rank of ordinary peers. The weight of his strike suggested potential that rivaled, perhaps even eclipsed, Yamamoto Genryūsai himself.
Moyu met the words with calm poise. "Then I'll take that compliment."
Aizen gave him a final, deep look, then turned away without hesitation, stepping fully into the darkness. Gin lingered for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on Moyu's form, before he too followed.
The Gillians tightened the Negación, and the golden pillar sealed shut. The fractured sky healed, spirit particles scattering once more through Seireitei's air. Silence returned, but it was heavy with the mark Aizen's plan had carved into Soul Society.
The captains stared at Moyu, their eyes complicated. This man, who had interfered in execution, who had wielded power enough to strike across dimensions—what judgment could they place upon him now? His slash had carved more than the air; it left a scar in history itself.
For a long while, no one spoke.
Finally, Kyōraku slid his hat back on, his voice low.
"Whatever else, this chapter has ended. We should see to Seireitei itself."
Yet even as he spoke, the unease deepened. For beyond the First Division's courtyard, Byakuya and Zaraki's Reiatsu still tore through the streets, their clash echoing unchecked.
And before any could respond—
"Renji!" Ichigo's voice rang out as he burst through the gates, Zangetsu resting on his shoulder. His tone carried reckless confidence. "We're here to save you!"
But as his eyes met the weight of the captains' gazes, Ichigo froze. Cold sweat broke across his brow.
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