( BONUS CHAPTER )
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The group stood before the massive spatial crack—Russell, Aizen, Hazel reading quietly in the background, and the two anxious directors.
"Energy readings are off the charts," Luther reported, checking his instruments again. "Whatever's on the other side, there's a lot of it."
"The previous probe suggested organized forces," Zayne added, his stone face showing rare concern. "Military discipline, magical barriers, coordinated attacks."
"How fascinating," Aizen mused, stepping closer to the portal. "It's been some time since I've had the opportunity to test myself against an actual army."
Russell turned to the directors. "Pull all forces back to safe positions. No one approaches the portal until this is resolved."
"But shouldn't we provide support—" Luther began.
"That won't be necessary," Aizen interrupted gently. "In fact, your presence would complicate matters. I work best with... room to maneuver."
Something about his tone made Luther stop arguing immediately.
"Everyone stay exactly where you are once I enter," Aizen continued, adjusting his glasses. "Moving would be inadvisable."
Before anyone could ask what he meant, Aizen spoke a single phrase:
"Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu."
Reality cracked like a broken mirror. Every person present—including Russell—gasped as they suddenly realized they'd been under hypnosis since Aizen first appeared. None had noticed. None had even suspected.
"When did you—" Luther started.
"From the beginning," Russell answered quietly, impressed despite himself. "The moment I summoned him."
Aizen smiled at their realization. "It's simply more convenient this way. Now then, I'll handle this quickly. Tea should still be warm when I return."
He stepped through the portal.
The scene that greeted Aizen was meant to inspire terror.
Fifty thousand spellcasters stood in perfect formation across a vast plaza of black stone. Their combined magical energy made the air visible, shimmering like heat waves. Banners of dozens of legions fluttered in the ethereal wind. War drums beat a steady rhythm that shook the ground.
At the army's head stood the Grand Speaker on a raised platform, ancient and terrible. His power radiated visibly—purple flames that didn't burn but simply existed around him. The surviving speakers formed a semicircle at his sides.
"WARRIORS OF THE ETERNAL REALM!" the Grand Speaker's voice boomed across the plaza. "Today, we claim what is ours by right of conquest! The Supreme One has decreed—that primitive world shall be ours!"
"FOR THE SUPREME ONE!" fifty thousand voices roared in perfect unison.
"Remember," the Grand Speaker continued, "they ambushed our scouts through trickery and cowardice. But trickery cannot stand against true power! We are the storm that will wash their world clean!"
"WE ARE THE STORM!"
The portal shimmered. A single figure stepped through.
The war drums stopped. Silence fell like a physical weight.
Aizen looked around with the polite interest of a tourist visiting a moderately interesting museum. He pulled out a cloth and began cleaning his glasses.
"Oh my. Fifty thousand..." He held his glasses up to the light, checking for smudges. "How quaint."
The Grand Speaker stared for a long moment, then burst into harsh laughter. "One man? They send ONE MAN?" He turned to his speakers. "Have they surrendered? Or simply gone mad?"
The army erupted in laughter—fifty thousand voices creating a wall of mockery that would have broken most minds.
Aizen finished cleaning his glasses and put them back on. "Are you quite finished? I do have other matters to attend to today."
The laughter cut off instantly at his casual tone.
The Grand Speaker's expression turned murderous. "Kill him. Now."
Five thousand spellcasters in the front ranks raised their hands in perfect synchronization. Five thousand spells launched simultaneously—a rainbow of destruction that had leveled cities, erased mountains, boiled oceans.
"Bakudō #81: Dankū."
Aizen didn't even raise his hand. A transparent barrier appeared, and the spells... vanished. Not blocked or deflected. They simply ceased to exist upon contact.
"Impossible!" Speaker Pyrro gasped. "No incantation, no preparation—"
"Did you think," Aizen interrupted, beginning to walk forward, "that your magic was special? That numbers meant something?"
He sighed theatrically. "How disappointing. I had hoped for at least a modest challenge."
"ALL FORCES!" the Grand Speaker screamed. "EVERYONE ATTACK NOW!"
Fifty thousand hands rose. The magical energy gathering was so intense it became visible—an aurora of power that lit the realm.
"Better," Aizen commented. "But still inadequate. Hadō #90: Kurohitsugi."
Black coffins materialized around the front ranks. Not dozens, not hundreds—thousands. Coffins of pure void inscribed with impossible geometries. Cross-shaped spears of nothingness formed within.
The spears struck. Five thousand died instantly, without even time to scream.
"WHAT ARE YOU?!" the Grand Speaker shrieked.
"A fair question," Aizen replied, still walking forward at that measured pace. "But you're asking it wrong. It's not what am I, but rather what are you? You see yourselves as conquerors, as superior beings. But you're merely insects who've forgotten your place in the hierarchy."
"BARRIERS!" Speaker Klaus commanded. "ALL BARRIERS NOW!"
The remaining forces scrambled to form defenses. Layer upon layer of magical shields sprouted, each reinforced by hundreds of casters.
"Hadō #88: Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō."
A dragon of pure lightning erupted from Aizen's palm—building-sized, composed of white stellar fire. It carved through barriers like tissue paper, leaving a fifty-foot-wide path of annihilation.
"Twenty thousand remaining," Aizen noted clinically. "Shall we continue, or would you prefer surrender?"
"NEVER!" Blood ran from the Grand Speaker's eyes. "We are the chosen—"
"You are nothing," Aizen interrupted. "And now I'm bored."
What happened next wasn't an attack. Aizen simply stopped restraining his spiritual pressure.
The effect was catastrophic.
The nearest thousand died immediately—their bodies couldn't process what was happening. The next five thousand collapsed, blood frothing from their mouths. Ten thousand more fell to their knees, unable to breathe. Another fifteen thousand stood paralyzed.
Only the speakers remained conscious, though blood poured from their eyes and ears.
"Monster," the Grand Speaker wheezed, on his knees. "You're not human. WHAT ARE YOU?!"
"I am exactly what I appear," Aizen adjusted his glasses calmly. "A simple vice-captain. The difference between us isn't what I am, but your failure to understand what that means."
"Please—" Speaker Saville began.
"No."
Aizen raised his hand one final time. "Hadō #96: Ittō Kasō."
A blade of compressed fire materialized and expanded—sword-sized to building-sized to mountain-sized in seconds. It carved through everything.
Only the Grand Speaker remained, kept alive by Aizen's will.
"You're this realm's anchor," Aizen observed, approaching the broken figure. "When you die, this space collapses. Fascinating."
"You'll be trapped—"
"No."
The Grand Speaker's head separated from his shoulders with surgical precision.
The realm immediately began unraveling. The sky fell in chunks. The ground cracked and crumbled. Reality itself came undone.
Aizen walked calmly back toward the portal as apocalypse erupted around him. Debris always missed by inches. Voids opened just after he stepped past.
He paused at the portal, looking back at the dying realm.
"Disappointing," he said to no one.
He stepped through.
The assembled cardmakers had been frozen in tense silence. Five minutes. Only five minutes had passed.
"Should we—" Luther began.
The portal flickered. Aizen stepped out, not a hair out of place. His uniform was perfect. His glasses weren't even smudged.
Behind him, the portal began its final collapse.
"The incursion has been resolved," Aizen reported pleasantly. "The realm is experiencing cascade failure. It will cease manifesting within moments."
"You destroyed an entire realm?" Even Zayne showed genuine shock.
"Destroyed implies I attacked the realm itself. I merely removed its population. The collapse is natural consequence."
The portal gave one final pulse and vanished. Where the spatial crack had existed, only empty air remained.
Russell's phone exploded with notifications:
[SECRET REALM THREAT ELIMINATED]
[Single Combatant - 5 minutes 17 seconds]
[150,000 points deposited]
[Title Earned: Realm Breaker]
"Well then," Russell said, voice admirably steady. "That was efficient."
Hazel closed her book. "Interesting card."
From her, that was highest praise.
"Thank you, Senior Sister. Dinner?"
"No. You're safe." She vanished.
Russell turned to the stunned directors. "Gentlemen, we should report to President Simon. I'm curious how he'll explain his absence during a crisis that could've destroyed the city."
"He'll have excuses," Luther said bitterly.
"I'm sure. By the way, Director Luther—a woman was found dead this morning. Apparent suicide. The description matched Ms. Xie."
Luther went through several colors. "What? But—how—"
"These things happen," Russell said gently. "Unregistered cardmakers, secret lives, pressure... Sometimes it's too much."
"My son—"
"Will be fine. Any influence will fade naturally."
Zayne watched everything with sharp eyes, filing details away.
After both directors left, Aizen adjusted his glasses. "You killed her."
"She was evil," Russell said simply.
"I'm not judging. Merely observing." Aizen smiled genuinely. "You're more interesting than expected, Russell-kun."
"Save the analysis. Tomorrow, we visit President Simon."
"Political maneuvering?" Aizen's smile widened. "Excellent. It's been far too long since I played such games."
They walked away from the former crisis site, both wearing the same dangerous smile.
President Simon had no idea what was coming.
(End of Chapter 218 )
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