In Soul Society, love and bond begin

While the long spikes of the pipe piles fixed their bodies, star-shaped spirit particles continuously drifted out from the holes at the end. They floated in the air and were attracted by some kind of magic spell, flying towards the fuzzy barrier at the outermost edge of the space.

I don’t know if it’s an illusion.

Every time a trace of spiritual energy flowed in, the originally vague and blurry barrier of the technique seemed to become more solid than before.

It seems to be absorbing these virtual lives, slowly turning from illusion into reality.

In addition to this part, there are many more Hollows who were wearing pure white tubular shackles and were whipped and driven by the Quincies towards the center of this empty land.

Standing in the very center of this space is a giant white tower that penetrates the sky.

Countless Hollows, as numerous as ants, were driven by these Quincies, carrying huge stones and blocks towards the giant tower.

Occasionally one or two would try to cause trouble, but they were easily pinned down by the spiritual magic attached to the shackles.

What followed was a barrage of whipping and scolding.

"Slave...huh?"

Bazby stood at the wall at the top of the tower, looking down at the teams of Quincy soldiers escorting the Hollows back from the outside world, and whispered subconsciously.

He turned his head again and looked at the tower in the center that was still being built upwards.

Finally, the red-haired man frowned his thick eyebrows and spoke with a tone of impatience.

"Hasward!"

“Does what we are doing now really make sense?”

"Besides, instead of hiding like rats in this ghost place where we don't know when we'll be found, we might as well take advantage of the fact that we still have the strength to fight those damned Grim Reapers!"

He gritted his teeth angrily and clenched his fists.

Haschwalth stood beside him with an indifferent expression, his left hand on the hilt of his sword.

He didn't react much when he heard Buzby's complaints.

In fact, this is not just Buzby's idea.

Among the current Quincies, many are fanatical believers in His Majesty Yhwach. Even after learning of the death of the "God", they are unwilling to believe this fact. Instead, they frantically clamor to occupy Hueco Mundo and fight to the death with the God of Death - in fact, this is just another form of self-abandonment.

"...and still be alive."

Hasward thought silently in his heart and remained silent for a long time.

Just when Buzby thought he wouldn't get an answer today, he suddenly heard these words.

Buzby was stunned for a moment, then subconsciously turned to look at the man he recognized as his best companion.

Haschwalth looked at the Quincies at the bottom of the tower and said word by word, "I will help you all survive here."

"Until the moment His Majesty recovers."

After hearing this, Buzby finally stopped talking and just looked at him with an inexplicable complexity in his mind.

Hasward seemed to be talking nonsense, as if he had been under pressure for too long and finally had a chance to talk.

He leaned his hands on the railing, trying his best to keep his voice calm, but his speech speed had already unconsciously begun to speed up:

"The God of Death has discovered our presence in Soul Society and will surely guess that we will repeat our tricks in Hueco Mundo or the human world."

"So, if we want to conceal our current movements, we must maintain a sufficiently large, and extremely energy-intensive, energy-blocking barrier around the Empire."

"The only thing to be thankful for is that there is an endless, inexhaustible, and cheap energy source in Hueco Mundo—the Hollow itself."

"But the Hollow is still too dangerous for us."

"It's fine now, but our lifespans as Quincies are not as endless as those of the Shinigami and Hollows. While we wait for His Majesty to awaken, we ourselves will need to sleep and hibernate."

"How to defend against these guys who we have turned into energy will become the biggest problem."

"These past few days, I've been thinking about how to make all Quincies master the power to suppress large numbers of Hollows independently, and how to solve the impact of Hollow power on the Quincies themselves, but..."

Buzby stood aside, stunned and listening quietly.

After all these years of knowing each other, this was the first time he saw Hasward act so 'out of control'.

It turned out that Haswood was not as well-prepared as he had imagined, and was not able to plan everything at any time.

Even though he had obtained power that was unimaginable for ordinary people from Yhwach, the guy in front of him was just a young man of the same age as him, just over twenty years old.

Even they had only recently become candidate members of the Stern Cross Knights and been assigned to the Holy Blood.

In this situation, Haschwalth had to shoulder the almost impossible task of defeating the Empire, waiting for His Majesty's recovery, and leading a group of Quincies to survive in hiding from the pursuit of the Grim Reaper.

One can easily imagine the pressure he has been under during this period.

At this moment, Buzby suddenly realized that what he had just said seemed a bit too willful.

As if he had finally let out all the stress he had been under for the past few days, Haswood's voice gradually slowed down. He noticed that Bazby beside him had not spoken for a long time.

Suddenly, he realized that he had accidentally exposed his weak side.

"..."

Their eyes met, both of them speechless.

After a long silence, Bazby, as if trying to ease the awkwardness, casually retorted, "Even though you say that... even His Majesty can't resolve the conflicting attributes between Quincies and Hollows, right?"

"Ah."

After regaining his composure, Haschwald returned to his usual reserved demeanor: "Actually, I don't want to solve it either."

"It's just a different way."

"what?"

Buzby looked at him suspiciously.

Hasward turned his head and looked at the other side of the tower.

The red cockscomb looked in the direction of his gaze.

"Roar--"

The deafening roar shook the earth, and the powerful pressure that was emitted made it impossible for ordinary Quincies to move.

Those who were closer subconsciously raised their heads and looked in the direction of the sound with a hint of awe.

There, a huge creature with a body length of more than 100 meters, its entire body covered by a dark cloak, was fixed in place by giant pillars of spirit particles.

Buzby raised his eyes slightly, as if he was a little surprised.

That was a lowest level Hollow.

Killian.

However, this is different from other ordinary people who were captured to do work or have their blood drawn.

There were many Quincies standing around this Killian, pointing at various parts of its body.

Even though the Killian continued to roar miserably unconsciously, these Quincies did not move. They were writing and drawing in their notebooks and discussing something with the people around them.

After a while, several people were seen carrying a spherical machine towards the hollow hole in Killian's chest, as if trying to install the cockpit-like thing inside and connect it to Killian's body with some suspicious cables.

But after trying several times, the wailing Killian instinctively closed his mouth, his whole body trembling violently, and a faint flash of light continued to condense under the mask.

With a loud bang, the machine that was forced into the void suddenly exploded, affecting several people around it.

So, we go back to the previous step and reset the plan.

In addition to them, there were several candidate members of the Stern Cross Knights on the other side. It was unknown what requirements they had received, but they were studying a Yachukas that had been forcibly captured. They kept changing various materials to contact its body, as if trying to find a way to better isolate the power of the void.

Even a guy as thick-skinned as Buzby could feel it clearly.

These losers who were driven to Hueco Mundo are trying very hard and trying every possible way to adapt to the environment of Hueco Mundo.

——To survive.

......

"Boom--!"

The waterfall, like a silver chain, falls along the mountainside, rushing down.

When I fell to the foot of the mountain, all that remained in my ears was the endless deafening sound.

The end of the waterfall, washed by thousands of years, has long formed a bottomless cold pool.

In the center of the cold pond's mist, sat a woman wearing a single, wet white dress that clung to her body, outlining winding lines.

Unohana Yachiru sat quietly there, her long, wet black hair draped over her shoulders, her eyebrows, corners of her eyes, and eyelashes all wet with mist, but she remained motionless.

He rested his sword on his knees and his eyes were closed.

It seems that he is in deep meditation on swordsmanship.

His whole body exuded an aura as sharp as a knife blade.

However, only Unohana Yachiru himself knows best.

Her mind was already in turmoil.

Three months.

Three full months have passed since the Quincy Rebellion ended.

During this period of time, Unohana was almost always thinking about the battle between Makoto and Yhwach that she witnessed that day.

That kind of fierce collision, fighting, and the dangerous feeling of walking between life and death.

Just standing by and watching, Unohana Yachiru felt as if a thorn had been pierced in his heart.

I wish I couldn't replace it.

Even until now it is still the same.

Fighting with the strong,

So desirable.

For this woman who was born into fighting and even dedicated everything to fighting, this long endurance was undoubtedly a torture.

but.

Even a woman like this has things that make her feel entangled and even vaguely afraid.

Unohana Yachiru slowly stretched out his wet hand, brushed the knife on his knee, wiped off the water droplets on it, and lowered his eyes.

"With my current strength, I really still have the ability..."

"Is that enough pleasure for Makoto?"

The subtle sound was easily drowned out by the roaring waterfall and only rang in her ears.

Compared to dying in battle or being punished after losing a battle, what Unohana Yachiru could not accept the most was his own "weakness".

Almost immediately after the battle between Fujimiya Makoto and Yhwach ended, this questioning of himself took deep root in Unohana Yachiru's heart.

Until today, she couldn't even completely restrain her aura during sword meditation.

Desire, excitement, fear, pleasure.

Unohana Yachiru felt his rapidly beating heart.

Slowly, he pulled out a section of the sword, whose sharpness and fighting spirit had long been difficult to suppress.

"Zheng——"

The sharp sound of a knife suddenly rang out.

In an instant, it drowned out the deafening sound of the waterfall.

Suddenly, a diffuse air wave swept in all directions, easily sweeping away everything around it.

Grass, water, waterfalls, earth and rocks.

All flying.

In the small space centered on Unohana Yachiru, a momentary blank suddenly appeared.

It seemed as if even time had stopped for a few seconds.

Wait until the edge is reduced.