The captains halted midway through arranging the Kidō barrier, their gazes lifting toward the heavens.
There, suspended in the storm, stood Moyu.
Every hand stilled. Every breath caught. Reiatsu should have faded, yet what pressed upon them was worse—an oppressive weight so dense it felt carved from substance, sinking deep into their chests until suffocation clawed at the edges of their lungs.
Even from afar the sight left them shaken, unable to sense Moyu's spiritual power yet crushed beneath its force.
Aizen too, immersed in his fifth fusion stage, stared blankly at the figure before him. If not for the storm roiling around that body of light, he might have believed no one stood there at all.
Clouds split, lightning tore open the sky, and Moyu alone remained at the center.
Why?
The question twisted in Aizen's mind until it spilled into his voice.
"This posture… what is this…? What have you done?"
The thought lurking in his heart clawed upward, one he refused to admit. A being who had transcended the boundaries of Shinigami should not be interfered with by those below. Higher dimensions remained untouchable. Lower existences could not perceive, much less suppress, them.
Yet the answer pressed coldly from above.
"Aren't you willing to accept reality?" Moyu's voice cut through the storm, steady and calm. "Can't you admit a stronger existence stands before you? Just as you suspect—we already exist on different dimensions."
The words dropped like stone.
Aizen's face twisted. His roar split the air.
"Impossible! A Shinigami cannot surpass me! This is absolutely impossible!"
He refused the thought, even as the air around him warped.
Pressure descended. It was not Kidō, not Reiatsu, but rejection itself, a raw denial of his existence that tore straight into the soul.
Aizen's pupils contracted. He flared his Reiatsu instantly, pushing against the crushing force. Wind howled, power collided—and yet the weight did not relent.
Moyu advanced step by step.
The closer he came, the heavier the burden grew. Flesh tore with sharp cracks. The white shell of spiritual matter that armored Aizen's body fractured, scattering like shattered glass. Even the butterfly wings of his ascension bent beneath the strain.
Aizen unleashed all his power, but the wounds refused to close. He staggered, eyes wide.
"This…"
Moyu's voice was indifferent. "From the very beginning, your High-Speed Regeneration has been working." His gaze sharpened. "Only… the speed of recovery is slower than the speed of destruction."
The truth struck harder than any blade.
Aizen vanished, reappearing in front of Moyu, fury burning through his veins. His sword thrust forward, pouring every shred of will, anger, and pride into one strike.
The blade aimed straight at Moyu's chest.
For an instant Hōgyoku flared, violet light bursting forth as though answering Aizen's unwilling heart. Power surged into the weapon, speed doubled, certainty filled his eyes.
This strike would pierce. It had to.
Yet before reaching Moyu, the blade slowed. Space itself resisted. The stroke sank into invisible mire, progress halted no matter how much strength he poured into it.
Above the battlefield, white fragments rained down like silent snow as Aizen's wings broke apart.
Moyu met his gaze without ripple, calm as stone.
"This is Lanshou Tianzhu. Now you understand."
He raised his hand, then let it fall.
The world shuddered.
Aizen was driven earthward like a meteor, body crushed beneath immeasurable force. His final roar twisted with rage, disbelief, and unwillingness.
Even then Moyu did not stop. His fingers flicked the air like plucking the strings of fate, vibrations rippling across the sky.
A pulse of violet light ignited above Aizen's soul.
Eyes wide, he looked down at his chest.
A white palm pressed firmly against his core.
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