"Report! The 19th Squad has been completely wiped out after a frontal encounter with Hollows! Should we dispatch the 2nd Squad?"
"The 17th Squad has completed their mission!"
"Boundary Division! Where's the Boundary Division?! My team can't reach them!"
"Stop hoarding those Boundary Stones! Bring out all the confiscated reserves now!"
"Hey! You there—Head of the Shiba Clan! Go assist the Boundary Division with communications!"
Shutara Senjumaru, draped in a white lab coat, stood before a massive holographic projection, barking orders and directing the entire Technical Development Bureau into a frenzy.
When giving commands, she didn't care who you were—even if you were the head of the Shiba Clan, you had to obey.
Even Yoruichi Shihōin, who had been temporarily dragged into the chaos, was forced into a smaller lab coat and ordered around until her head spun.
But no one dared complain, no matter how hectic things got.
A soldier trains for a thousand days to be used for one.
And right now, the entire core area of the Genryū was under attack by a swarm of Hollows. Worse still, the Head Instructor had been teleported to an unknown location.
The mere thought of it made Shutara grind her teeth in frustration.
And then there was Fujimiya Makoto—who knew what state he was in?
Ever since entering this office, Shutara hadn't stepped out for a long time.
Before she could dwell on it further, a member of the Boundary Division suddenly shouted, his face alight with excitement:
"Director!"
"A massive spiritual pressure signature has been detected in Hueco Mundo's Zone 116!"
"The spiritual fluctuations match the Head Instructor's spiritual pressure almost perfectly!"
Shutara slammed her hands on the table and shot to her feet, her voice brimming with energy: "Activate the large-scale cross-dimensional communication device! Now!"
The moment this news spread, hope surged in the hearts of nearly everyone present.
Their movements became even more efficient.
In this era, the name Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni alone had the power to turn despair into hope.
Or rather, this would remain true even a thousand years into the future.
He was an utterly unique individual.
If one had to describe him with a single word,
"Hero" or "Banner" would suffice.
---
Hueco Mundo
Unlike its usual state—shrouded in eternal night, bathed in moonlight—
Today, Hueco Mundo was bright.
No, more accurately—scorching.
A tall, middle-aged man with a traditional chonmage hairstyle, his temples slightly receding, his black hair tied into a topknot, strode across the Hollow-infested white desert with piercing eyes.
Every step he took ignited blazing white flames beneath his feet.
Had anyone examined the ground under a microscope, they would have seen countless microscopic Hollows charred to cinders in an instant.
He held a sword wreathed in flames, his back cloaked in an inferno that stretched like an army of fire, marching in perfect formation behind their general.
A spiritual pressure so vast it defied comprehension—the absolute pinnacle of what a Shinigami could achieve—radiated outward without restraint, crushing everything in its path like a flood.
Even among the Vasto Lorde, none had ever reached such terrifying heights.
Countless mindless Hollows, sensing the delectable spiritual pressure, charged toward him in a frenzy—only to freeze in abject terror as they closed within a hundred meters.
Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni merely walked past them, and every last one, whether strong or weak, was reduced to ashes.
In his other hand, he dragged a charred, limbless figure.
Despite his condition, Kyouraku Yoshikazu was still alive.
He let out a low, rasping laugh:
"It's pointless."
"Genryūsai-sama."
"By now, your disciples near the Genji Dojo must have been trampled underfoot by an endless tide of Hollows."
His vitality was monstrous, his spiritual pressure surpassing that of an average vice-captain. Even in Yamamoto's grasp, he retained some semblance of sanity—his willpower was nothing short of tenacious.
Kyouraku Yoshikazu forced his head up and whispered:
"You may know of Hollow bait... but you don't know that the Five Great Noble Clans possess bait capable of attracting Vasto Lorde."
"To lure enough of them, my subordinates were implanted with ten each."
"Right now, at least three Vasto Lorde are lurking in the Genryū's territory."
"Do you really think your disciples can handle that?"
Yamamoto's expression remained utterly calm. He countered:
"And what of it?"
Kyouraku Yoshikazu froze.
Then, he understood.
Yamamoto never cared about how many followed him.
He only needed people to help him cleanse a world purged of nobles.
Those people saw him as a banner, a symbol.
But did he not also see them as tools, as expendable pawns?
The only thing Yamamoto Genryūsai Shigekuni truly valued was his goal—the eradication of the nobility.
As long as he lived, nothing else mattered.
"...Heh... hehehe..."
Kyouraku Yoshikazu suddenly began to laugh, his voice hoarse:
"Genryūsai-sama."
"You preach about nobles treating commoners as humans..."
"But isn't the one who values life the least... you?"
"..."
"Indeed."
Yamamoto didn't deny it. He didn't even attempt to justify himself. His voice was eerily calm:
"But in this rotten era, only a bloodthirsty demon can suppress other demons, no?"
"For that, the lives of commoners, of Shinigami, of disciples, of friends... even my own life..."
"All are acceptable sacrifices."
"You are evil? Then I shall be worse."
"If that's all it takes to exterminate your kind..."
Here, Genryūsai glanced down at the broken young man in his grip and stated flatly:
"I will relish it."
This time, Kyouraku Yoshikazu was truly stunned.
Hearing Yamamoto's ice-cold words, despite the scorching flames surrounding him, an uncontrollable chill ran down his spine.
This man... would slaughter every last noble.
Not out of hatred, nor personal desire—but because he saw it as his mission.
"Demon...! Demon—!"
His mind shattered, he screamed like a madman.
Just then, Yamamoto sensed a spiritual fluctuation probing for communication.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he accepted the link.
"Genryūsai-sama!" Shutara Senjumaru's voice echoed in his mind. "Can you hear me?!"
"I hear you."
Yamamoto's tone was as steady as ever.
He casually dropped Kyouraku Yoshikazu at his feet.
He was no longer needed.
"Head northwest immediately—just go straight!" Shutara's voice was urgent. "That's the closest inter-dimensional passage to your location!"
"There's also a massive swarm of Hollows gathered there."
"Please eliminate them while you're at it!"
"That's all we need for now!"
Hearing this, a faint smile finally appeared on Yamamoto's face.
After all these years of nurturing talent...
The Genryū had finally produced individuals capable of standing on their own.
"Understood."
After a pause, he added with rare praise:
"Well done, Senjumaru."
Shutara huffed: "It'd be better if you stopped causing us trouble, old man!"
"Hah—"
Yamamoto laughed heartily.
A man who could tolerate even Fujimiya Makoto's eccentricities wouldn't be bothered by such minor complaints.
How could he possibly be angry?
But after laughing, his foot slammed into the ground.
With a thunderous boom, he shot into the sky like a meteor, too fast for the eye to follow.
Across Hueco Mundo, all could see it—a blazing streak of fire, cutting across the moonlit night.
When he landed, the entire desert quaked, the tremors reaching even the depths of the Forest of Menos.
"All things in the universe, turn to ashes—"
"Ryūjin Jakka!"
"Inferno Prison!!!"
Dozens—no, hundreds—of towering pillars of fire erupted, illuminating the dark sky and engulfing hundreds of kilometers in an instant.
Everything within was reduced to cinders.
Not a single survivor.
He wasn't angry, though.
But still...
Old man, you're fuming!