Shiba Kaien's expression was visibly grim.
His eyes swept over the two corpses on the ground, then shifted to the foul Reishi residue left behind by the dissipated Hollow.
He noticed something important—their souls hadn't appeared.
They'd been completely consumed by the Hollow. No chance of entering the cycle. No rebirth. Nothing.
But Kaien didn't voice blame or condemnation for Shiki's failure to act in time.
Instead, he shifted his gaze from the corpses to Shiki.
"Fifth Seat Shiki," he said solemnly. "When a Shinigami descends to the World of the Living, our duty isn't limited to performing Konso on the deceased."
He paused, voice steady but weighty.
"When Hollows pose a threat to the living, protecting human life is also part of our mandate."
He fixed Shiki with a pointed look.
"That's a fundamental rule, repeated over and over in Shin'o Academy's basic curriculum. You remember that, don't you?"
Shiki's expression remained unchanged. He replied calmly:
"My theory grades were… barely passing. Not the best. I may have forgotten a few details."
His tone made it unclear whether it was dry humor or simply fact.
Kaien studied him for another long moment, as if searching for something behind the mask.
Eventually, he nodded.
"Just be more mindful of the battlefield, going forward."
"We have no authority to intervene in human wars. But when a Hollow targets the living, that is our jurisdiction."
With that, he turned without waiting for a response and Shunpo'd back into the battlefield—commanding and aiding the ongoing Konso effort without missing a beat.
Shiki watched his retreating figure quietly.
Shiba Kaien—direct heir of one of the five Great Noble Houses.
In terms of both identity and personal capability, he stood near the pinnacle of his generation of Shinigami.
And it was exactly that noble status that gave him access to knowledge regular Shinigami were never meant to hear.
Was it the Shiba Clan behind the Onikirimono operations? Using onmyōji to collect and weaponize souls?
The thought flashed across Shiki's mind.
But he quickly shook it away. Now wasn't the time to unravel noble conspiracies. The battlefield itself was spiraling out of control.
He re-centered himself and stepped back into the fray.
But he didn't chase Hollows like the 11th Division.
Instead, he patrolled the boundary between the chaos and the areas where the 13th Division was operating.
At times, he used the hilt of his Zanpakutō to quietly perform Konso on lingering souls.
Other times, he raised his finger and unleashed pinpoint Byakurai strikes—blasting Hollows out of the sky without breaking stride.
His movements were clean, efficient, and never wasted.
Yet the longer he moved, the more he noticed something was… wrong.
The clamor of clashing soldiers was fading. The rate of casualties was slowing.
With fewer new deaths, there should be fewer souls.
That meant less pressure on the Shinigami, right?
But the reality was the opposite.
The 13th Division was still overwhelmed. The 11th Division hadn't slowed their rampage in the slightest.
Because—
The Hollows weren't stopping.
Despite the battlefield quieting, the number of Hollows hadn't decreased at all.
They just kept coming.
"Byakurai!"
Shiki's eyes narrowed.
Three silver bolts lanced out from his fingertips in rapid succession, vaporizing three Hollows mid-leap as they tried to emerge from different skyward rifts.
Something's wrong.
Seriously wrong.
Shiki looked up.
Above the battlefield floated over a dozen black crescent-shaped spatial rifts, writhing at their edges like living wounds in the sky.
They were the portals—forced tears in the world—through which Hollows broke through the dimensional boundary.
But… since when was crossing realms this easy for Hollows?
By nature, they could rip open small tears, but only in rare, random surges of energy.
Unstable. Unpredictable. Brief.
But these…
His stomach dropped.
From the moment they'd arrived, not one of those rifts had closed.
Even when a fissure looked like it might seal, it would quickly be pried back open—either by another Hollow or by some invisible force holding it open.
They hovered like a constellation of unhealing wounds—bleeding monsters into the sky with no end in sight.
This wasn't natural.
This wasn't possible.
Shiki immediately stopped what he was doing and Shunpo'd toward a familiar figure nearby—Ashido, who was still mid-combat.
"Vice-Captain Ashido," he called out directly, his voice sharp and urgent, "something's wrong."
Ashido had just shattered a Hollow's mask with the tip of his blade. He paused mid-motion, eyes shifting toward Shiki.
Shiki pointed upward.
"Those rifts—they haven't closed once since we arrived."
"Hollow frequency and volume is far above what would be expected from natural soul concentration."
"There are almost no new souls being born, but the Hollow surge hasn't slowed at all. Something is interfering."
Ashido looked skyward.
His eyes narrowed. His brows furrowed.
And then he remembered.
As a seasoned warrior of the 11th Division, he had long ago memorized the behavioral patterns and appearance windows of Hollows.
He had noticed the rifts, yes—but hadn't thought to question their duration.
Now that Shiki had pointed it out, the abnormality was glaring.
"You're right," Ashido said, voice lower than usual.
"Ordinary dimensional tears caused by Hollows are unstable. After they pass through, the world repairs itself quickly. They're temporary."
"But this…"
He scanned the field again.
Then spotted Kuruyashiki Kenpachi—still deep in battle, surrounded by a mountain of Hollow corpses.
Ashido's eyes went cold.
Alerting him now could throw off his rhythm—or worse, be too late.
He made a snap decision.
Ashido pulled a small, intricate metal box from his uniform.
He knelt, placing it on the flattest patch of earth he could find.
Click… whirrr…
Tiny mechanisms activated, channels of Reishi lighting up faintly as the box unfolded like a metallic blossom.
Within seconds, it had transformed into a miniature transmission device.
Ashido placed one hand at its center, channeling his Reiatsu into the spell matrix.
His voice was precise, clipped, and urgent:
"This is Ashido, Vice-Captain of the 11th Division, reporting from the Eastern Theater of the World of the Living!"
"We are observing sustained, abnormal dimensional rifts. Hollow emergence rate and density are severely outside acceptable parameters."
"Signs indicate the presence of an external force stabilizing or manufacturing these rifts."
"Requesting technical analysis support, and recommending immediate combat reinforcement readiness!"
"Repeat: Requesting tactical and spiritual force support now!"
…