At last, Yamamoto released his zanpakuto—Ryujin Jakka—unleashing its Bankai, Zanka no Tachi (Longsword of the Remnant Flame), sealing all heat into the blade itself.
Wherever the tip pointed, all things withered.
Moisture in the air was evaporated to nothing. The earth cracked. Rock turned a dark red, on the verge of becoming magma.
The deciding blow would be struck now.
East: Zanjitsu Gokui (Sun Armor of the Remnant Day).
Extreme heat wrapped around Yamamoto's body—he became a walking solar core.
He took one step.
The ground beneath his feet silently collapsed, turning to glass.
Just as he was about to swing the finishing blade—
A voice appeared in his mind without warning.
"Everyone, the probing ends here."
He tried to ignore it, forcing his will back onto the edge of his blade.
"It seems words won't make you understand the situation."
Yamamoto's body stopped completely.
Not by his own will, but because an absolute power severed his connection to Ryujin Jakka by force.
The heat around him—enough to burn all of Soul Society to ash—vanished.
It simply disappeared.
He lowered his gaze to the sword in his hand.
The charred-black blade was restoring itself, returning to the form of an asauchi.
His Bankai had been forcibly canceled.
The strongest Shinigami in Soul Society, the Commander-General of the Gotei 13, stood there holding an ordinary zanpakuto—frozen in place.
He had lived for over a thousand years.
He had never encountered anything this absurd.
Might Guy's body was burning.
Red steam poured from every pore, turning him into a blood-red monster.
His skin split inch by inch, and the moment blood seeped out, it was instantly evaporated.
The Eight Gates Formation… the Gate of Death was about to open.
This was power bought with life itself—dozens of times beyond the Five Kage.
This was his final trump card, the ultimate proof of his nindo.
"Stop. If you keep fighting, it's meaningless. Guy-sensei, there's no need to open the Gate of Death. Losing your life for a test like this isn't worth it."
Guy's movement stalled.
The power source supporting the Gate of Death was forcibly suppressed.
The red steam around him visibly faded.
A wave of searing pain instantly flooded his entire body—the backlash of the Eight Gates, the punishment for overdrawn life.
Ulquiorra's second-stage Resurrección made him look like a demon from the abyss.
Black spiritual pressure churned around him like a tangible ocean.
He raised a finger, and at the tip, a destructive energy condensed.
A Lance of Lightning.
An attack capable of easily blowing apart Las Noches' ceiling.
His opponents—the Konoha shinobi—had already exhausted everything. Now they stared in despair at that constantly compressing green-black sphere of energy.
Ulquiorra felt nothing.
He was the first to arrive in this world, and he had run into troublesome opponents.
He had no emotional fluctuations—he was simply executing orders, eliminating all obstacles.
Just as he was about to throw the lance and erase everything below—
"All units stop. That's enough."
The voice rang out in his mind.
Ulquiorra froze. In his dark green eyes, something like "confusion" appeared.
What was this?
Genjutsu? Some sort of mental attack?
He tried to analyze the voice's origin and structure—only to find his thoughts sinking into mud.
At the same time.
Every battlefield in Konoha.
Jiraiya's Massive Rasengan broke down in his palm into pure chakra—and dispersed.
Tsunade's Byakugō no Jutsu was forcibly interrupted, the diamond seal on her forehead dimming.
Gaara's floating sea of sand lost control and crashed back to the ground.
Ichigo's Getsuga Tenshō, already formed at his blade's edge, vanished in an instant.
All combat—every energy collision—was forced to hit a stop button right then and there.
Whether shinobi, Shinigami, or Arrancar—everyone stopped moving.
They no longer looked at their opponents.
As if by unspoken agreement, they all lifted their heads and stared at the sky.
Above the sky, someone had appeared without anyone noticing.
Shinju.
He floated silently over every battlefield, without releasing any aura at all—yet he became the only center of the world.
Everyone understood: everything that had just happened came from this man.
A unified mental network had synchronized his words into every person's consciousness.
"Then let me put an end to this farce."
Like a divine decree—deciding everyone's fate.
The instant those words fell—
A will blanketed all of Konoha.
Under that will, Yamamoto Genryusai felt he was no longer the Commander-General of Soul Society—just an ordinary soul.
Might Guy felt he was no longer a taijutsu ninja burning his life—just an ordinary mortal.
Ulquiorra felt he was no longer an Espada who embodied nothingness—just a lost wandering spirit.
All the forces colliding violently—fire, frost, wind, lightning, reishi, sand… everything—was forcibly "suppressed" before that will.
Their attributes were stripped away.
Their forms were stripped away.
They returned to the most primitive state of energy particles—
And then fell completely silent.
The world lost its sound, its color, its flow.
Time hadn't stopped.
Only everyone's actions had been locked.
They could think. They could see what was happening.
But they couldn't react at all.
This was absolute control.
Shinju, alone, had interrupted everyone's battle.
Like a true god—no, something beyond godhood.
He looked down at those eyes still burning with battle intent: Yamamoto's unbending will, Guy's stubborn resolve, Ichigo's toughness.
But stopping the fight was far from enough.
A true mediator had to possess power that surpassed everyone.
These were each world's strongest. Their pride and will wouldn't be shattered by a single display of strength.
They needed to see a gap that could never be crossed.
Fighting back and forth had no meaning—there was no reason the two worlds had to battle in the first place, and this farce had to end.
More importantly, they had to understand what kind of stage they were standing on.
Shinju raised his palm upward.
Space behind him began to twist, and the phantom outline of a grand building slowly emerged.
Forged from light and stars—holy and solemn.
Its size couldn't be measured.
Even just its silhouette made Konoha Village, even the mountains of the Land of Fire, look like a model on a sandbox table.
Valhalla.
A presence from a higher dimension seeped out from the temple's shadow, making every immobilized powerhouse's soul tremble.
A fear born from the essence of life itself.
Shinju's voice, carried through the mental link, rang one last time in everyone's mind.
"Welcome to… my world."
(End of Chapter)
[Check Out My P@treon For 20+ Extra Chapters On All My Fanfics!!] [[email protected]/Draumel]
[Thank You For Your Support!]