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Soul Society knew little about Hueco Mundo. Occasionally, a Shinigami chasing down Hollows would stray too far and accidentally enter that world. None had ever been recorded to return.
Zaraki Souya had always thought Hueco Mundo was just a barren land filled with countless ordinary and giant Hollows.
Great Hollows—Achucas—were supposed to be rare. In Soul Society's history, their invasions were few compared to the swarms of lesser Hollows.
But now, as he faced several Achucas, his understanding collapsed. In just one corner of Hueco Mundo, six of them had gathered.
How many more lurked in other regions?
His vanguard units could barely handle giant Hollows; against even the lowest Gillian, they would be helpless.
"Haha! No wonder Aizen ridiculed your plan. You're nothing but a clueless bumpkin."
Yoru Takuliu never missed a chance to mock her master. Her laughter was sharp, grating on Zaraki's nerves.
"Shut up," Zaraki snapped, rare anger in his voice.
"Heh… look at you, all worked up. How pathetic. Want me to comfort you with a kiss?"
Yoru licked her lips deliberately, teasing him further.
Zaraki's face darkened.
"Zaraki, this is Hueco Mundo. Achucas are common here. Don't let it shake you," Shiraishi said evenly. Noticing his unease, he pressed, "Can your transformed souls handle Achucas?"
"…No," Zaraki admitted, the words heavy.
"Then send them back," Shiraishi said bluntly. "Don't drag us down. We'll stay and fight."
"Fine."
Zaraki didn't care about the lives of the Rukongai souls he had turned into soldiers, nor would he waste them meaninglessly.
Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself. His plan wasn't entirely a failure. Originally, he had expected to face Hollows alone. Now, he would simply need to shoulder more himself.
He flashed away, reappeared beside the transformed souls, and commanded the ram-headed Hollows to open a Garganta, sending the vanguard back to Soul Society.
When he returned, he said flatly, "Keep purifying."
"Wait," Shiraishi replied, extending his spiritual sense across the sands. Soon he located a solitary Achucas wandering alone.
"Found it." His eyes lit with anticipation.
Killing was terrifying—especially when the killer no longer felt its weight.
Against Hollows, it was easy to lose that awareness. Their blood spurted, their bodies crumbled into reishi, dissolving like sprites in a game. Only the growth, the experience, remained.
That sensation—of becoming stronger—was addictive beyond wine or drugs.
Even after killing six Achucas, Shiraishi felt no fatigue, only exhilaration. His fighting spirit burned hotter, driving him ceaselessly forward.
Perhaps only someone like Kūkaku stripping down and bathing in wine could stop him now.
In a single Forward Slash, Shiraishi crossed thirteen kilometers. With one steel flash, his blade pierced through the skull of the Achucas.
But instead of dying, the Hollow split in two. Each half swelled with pale flesh, sprouting limbs until two identical Hollows stood before him.
"Hm? A lone warrior? You don't wear a Shinigami's uniform, but you're still terribly rude," both said in eerie unison.
They were thin, three meters tall, bamboo-like in build, with oval heads, cockroach-like masks, and mantis scythes for arms.
"My name is Charlie Tuke. Remember it well—you'll die here."
Both lunged, identical in speed and strength, sending up waves of sand.
Shiraishi couldn't grasp what ability this was, but he knew no one was immortal. Raising his sword, he unleashed a golden whirlwind that tore the sands into a massive tornado.
Charlie didn't resist. Cunning and cautious, it split apart with its clone, flanking him. Their scythes cut down with a shrill sonic boom.
Shiraishi stepped into the attack, slashing one clone aside. He didn't waste a finishing move, instead gathering his energy. His sword rose high, spiritual pressure surging, then fell with a critical strike.
Both Charlie and its clone shattered, their masks and bodies breaking apart in the blast. The desert erupted, waves of white sand surging high enough to blot out the moon.
Shiraishi used Forward Slash to retreat ten miles, watching the storm with a grimace. "Tch. That was excessive."
"This guy just wants to show off," Yoru sneered, rolling her eyes. "You should make some noise too."
Zaraki ignored her and said calmly, "Shiraishi, restrain yourself. If you keep fighting like this, how long can you last?"
"…You're right." Shiraishi's head cleared. Reiatsu intensity and endurance were two different things. Yamamoto Genryūsai's pressure was immense, but even he had his limits.
Shiraishi's fighting style had always been hit-and-run. He had never fought a true prolonged battle. His reiatsu might have grown, but his stamina was still untested.
"I'll control myself," he admitted.
Checking his attribute panel, he saw his progress:
Experience: 185. Gains in Hueco Mundo far outpaced those in Soul Society.
"Let's go," he said.
"There's a strong spiritual pressure approaching," Zaraki warned, eyes on the horizon.
"Exactly why we should keep moving," Shiraishi replied. "Don't rush. One step at a time. Hunt the weak first, then face the strong."
Turning, he searched for the next prey.
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