"Hadō Number Ninety-One…"
"What terrifying pressure!"
"Just the chanting alone feels suffocating!"
"Who said this Shinigami dared to stand alone against Aizen? Now I see why!"
Silbern — The Ice Crystal Hall.
As Urahara's chanting reverberated from the screen,
the sky itself within the projection dimmed,
light flickering between bursts of silver static.
At that instant,
every pure-blooded Quincy in attendance froze—
the color draining from their faces.
Arrogance vanished.
Mockery dissolved.
For the first time, their expressions were those of prey before a predator—
the unmistakable fear of the weak before overwhelming power.
Even Aizen's enemies could not hide their awe before the legendary Hadō #91.
"Urahara Kisuke…"
"Former Shinigami Captain, founder of the Technology Development Bureau—
a man whose intellect alone once eclipsed the entire Soul Society…"
From the high platform, Jugram Haschwalth spoke quietly.
The blond strands of his hair whipped about in the spiritual wind emanating from the screen,
his eyes sharp and reflective.
It was clear—
the Wandenreich had long been aware of Urahara.
To Haschwalth, Urahara Kisuke and Aizen Sōsuke
were equals—
two anomalies among Shinigami,
each utterly beyond prediction,
each classed among the Five Special War Potentials.
And now, to witness these two men face off in the future—
a clash of intelligence, power, and destiny—
filled him with solemn fascination.
"Your Majesty must surely be watching this from his slumber as well…"
He glanced back toward the sealed chamber where Yhwach rested.
Haschwalth's tone was reverent, yet faintly tense.
If not for these ranking videos,
the Quincy Empire would have continued to lie in wait—
letting the Gotei 13 and Hueco Mundo destroy each other before swooping in to conquer the remnants.
But now—
the timeline itself had changed.
And with this revelation of Aizen's future battle in Karakura Town,
Haschwalth could only watch, half in fear, half in anticipation.
"Perhaps," he murmured, "one of them will eliminate the other…"
Hueco Mundo — Las Noches.
The air within the vast white citadel grew unnervingly still.
Even the lesser Hollows had ceased moving.
The overwhelming aura of Hadō #91
spilled from the screens like molten light,
spreading through every corridor,
suffocating all sound.
Each Arrancar—
from the lowliest Adjuchas to the proudest Espada—
stood frozen, their jaws slack, eyes wide with disbelief.
The darkness of the screen was filled with swirling, deadly radiance.
The spiritual light spiraled and pulsed—
a storm of annihilation incarnate.
At last, Tier Harribel broke the silence.
Her amber eyes reflected the flickering glow as she whispered,
"I finally understand… why that man ranks higher than Zaraki Kenpachi."
"Just the chanting of that Kidō… its power rivals a Bankai."
Her voice trembled.
For centuries, the Arrancar had dismissed Shinigami spells as trivial—
mere tricks compared to the might of Zanpakutō.
But this—
this was no mere Kidō.
It was devastation itself,
a force that could erase existence.
Even Aizen, in his transcendent, evolving state,
seemed to falter beneath its radiance.
His figure on screen dimmed, swallowed by the spiraling glare—
as if reduced to prey upon the altar of destruction.
In that moment,
Aizen Sōsuke looked… mortal.
"Lord Aizen… he'll be all right, won't he?"
From the far side of the hall, Zommari Rureaux spoke nervously.
The fervent believer among the Espada trembled,
his faith at war with fear.
For all of them—
Aizen was not merely a ruler.
He was the reason Hueco Mundo had unity at all.
If he were to fall—
the fragile peace of Las Noches would crumble overnight.
Hollows would again devour Hollows.
The sands would run red once more.
Zommari's voice cracked.
He could barely imagine such a world.
The light on the screen swelled—
the chant reached its peak.
"Hadō #91 — Senju Kōten Taihō!"
(Thousand-Handed Bright Heaven Culling Palm)
Urahara clapped his hands together,
his cane-sword pointing directly at Aizen from afar.
In that instant, the entire projection dimmed.
The world turned black.
Then—
hundreds, thousands of radiant spheres ignited across the void,
spinning into alignment like a heavenly array,
each pulsing with annihilation.
Aizen's form vanished within their orbit—
locked, targeted, and engulfed.
And then—
BOOM!!!
The heavens themselves split open.
The explosion swallowed the sky,
shattering the clouds of Karakura and painting them with fire.
The light bled through the screens across every realm.
Even in the real world,
the audience felt the impact—
a shockwave so vivid it knocked many from their feet.
"Brace yourselves!"
"Too late—!"
"Ahhhh!"
Countless Shinigami and souls screamed
as the reflected spiritual blast threw them to the ground.
For several breathless seconds,
the entire Soul Society trembled as if struck by an earthquake.
The video itself quaked—
the light flaring so bright it seemed to burn through the lens.
And when it faded—
Aizen was gone.
Not a silhouette.
Not a fragment.
Only the charred void remained.
Silence.
Then chaos.
"H-He's gone…"
"That wooden-sandal freak—he actually did it?!"
"Guess getting your head blown off earlier wasn't so bad compared to that! Hah!"
"At least the others left a body… that was vaporization!"
Inside Las Noches, the Espada staggered back from the blast's echo.
Yammy Llargo, flung across the hall by the shockwave,
hauled himself upright, trembling.
The last image he'd seen—
Aizen's form, swallowed by divine light,
erased as if by the hand of God.
His massive frame shivered.
For once, the brute was speechless.
Fear—not anger—ruled his heart.
"That Urahara guy… he's the real monster,"
Yammy muttered, pale and shaking.
Indeed—
against this fully chanted Hadō,
even the greatest Arrancar would be obliterated instantly.
"Unbelievable…"
Nnoitra Gilga swallowed hard,
the uncovered eye in his skull brimming with terror.
"That guy actually had the power to kill Lord Aizen…"
"No wonder he's ranked higher than Kenpachi. He deserves it."
Across the chamber,
Baraggan Louisenbairn crossed his arms,
his ancient gaze fixed on the screen.
"If what we saw is true…"
"Then Aizen Sōsuke—our so-called god—has fallen."
The hall fell silent once again.
Not one dared to breathe.
The very idea had been unthinkable—
until now.
If Aizen were truly gone…
then Hueco Mundo would belong to no one.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then, a low, dangerous laugh broke the stillness.
Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez grinned, his blue hair casting shadows over his feral eyes.
"Heh… so that's it."
"At least that damn wooden-sandal Shinigami proved Aizen ain't invincible."
"That's all I needed to see."
Excitement replaced fear in his gaze—
the old rebellious spark flaring anew.
The thought of Aizen's downfall
wasn't despair.
It was freedom.
Hueco Mundo… might just be reborn.
(End of Chapter)
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