Mirai spoke again. "Who are you in contact with?"
His voice was even more composed than before, with no emotion anyone could detect.
Soul Society was the final destination of the dead. Managing the cycle of souls was one of its primary duties.
Public interference in human wars was a violation. Letting humans detain souls through cruel methods—so the slaughter could continue without end—also broke the most basic regulations.
And Captain-Commander Genryūsai Shigekuni Yamamoto was famous for strict discipline and unwavering integrity. He would have zero tolerance for this.
Only someone bold—and capable—could run such a business in secret. Bold enough to do it, capable enough to force the Shinigami on duty to ignore it.
These people couldn't be ordinary squad members. They might not even be standard personnel within the Gotei 13.
Could it be certain aristocrats?
The thought surfaced in Mirai's mind.
Soul Society's noble system was vast and intricate. Some Great Noble Houses held privileges, along with influence that could be kept in the shadows. If they were involved…
The Onmyoji with the goat beard darkened. He clearly didn't want to discuss details. Instead, he tried to pressure Mirai into withdrawing.
He pointed toward the distant main battlefield, his tone carrying a warning.
"Look carefully. Have any other Shinigami come here to stop us? Can they not see?
Can they not feel it? Since they haven't come, you should understand where the boundaries are.
Mind your own business. Leave now. That's all I can tell you!"
The two Onmyoji stood straight, held their ground, and glared at Mirai. The last traces of nervousness vanished, replaced by pure arrogance.
They knew the rule: Shinigami were strictly forbidden from striking living humans. It was absolute.
So even if this Shinigami felt dangerous, he couldn't truly touch them while they were alive.
"Oho. You're very stubborn," Mirai remarked.
He turned slightly. His gaze drifted toward the battlefield's noise and chaos, as if he were searching for something.
His perception spread in silence.
Almost instantly, he locked onto a target at the edge of the battlefield—a soul whose Chain of Fate had just shattered under the weight of resentment and negativity in the area.
A hole was forming in its chest. Its body twisted, then began to swell. A pale, bony mask gradually surfaced across its face.
It let out a mindless roar, staggered forward, and tried to pounce on another nearby soul that was just as confused.
That was the one.
Mirai vanished from before the Onmyoji without warning.
In the next instant, he appeared beside the newborn Hollow—still at its weakest, still lost in confusion.
It wasn't massive. Its shape resembled a distorted ape. Its movements were slow, its consciousness muddled.
Mirai didn't draw his sword. He simply extended his right hand, palm facing the creature.
"Bakudō #8: Seki."
A flexible, forceful shockwave erupted from his palm and slammed into the newborn Hollow's chest.
Bang!
The Hollow let out a muffled cry. The impact hurled it through the air in an ugly arc, and it crashed down a few paces in front of the two Onmyoji, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The Hollow was dazed by the fall. It shook its head and pushed itself upright.
In its chaotic mind, only hunger remained—hunger for spiritual bodies. It looked up and fixed on the two living humans, the Onmyoji, whose weak spiritual power felt like small, easy snacks.
"Roar!"
This roar came out clearer than before, thick with greed and violence. It dropped to all fours and lunged straight at the two meals in front of it.
Its speed was more than twice as fast as its earlier staggering walk.
"Spi… Spirit Orb!"
The two Onmyoji never expected a disaster to fall at their feet.
One second they were threatening a Shinigami with arrogance. The next, a hideous monster with an ominous aura was pouncing on them with bared claws.
Terror emptied their faces. On instinct, they fumbled through their only offensive technique.
They threw their hands forward, palms facing each other, and desperately squeezed the meager spiritual power inside their bodies. They forced it into shape—two dim, fist-sized white orbs.
"Go!"
They thrust both Spirit Orbs at the lunging Hollow.
The principle behind a Spirit Orb was nothing more than the most basic spiritual energy projection. It wasn't Kidō. It had no incantation, no structure, no special properties.
It was simply spiritual power, compressed by force and thrown. Weak in both control and output.
Bang! Bang!
Both orbs struck home. They slammed into the Hollow's bone-masked head with two dull thuds.
The Hollow's momentum was checked. It seemed to feel pain—and it paused for the briefest moment.
The two Onmyoji seized the opening and scrambled backward, gasping as cold sweat poured down their foreheads.
Those two Spirit Orbs had already drained their tiny reserves. Their limbs felt heavy, weak, unwilling to respond.
"Hmph… a mere brat…" the goat-bearded Onmyoji tried to bluster, clinging to posture. His voice, however, trembled violently.
"Aow!"
The Hollow answered with an even more savage howl.
That slight pain didn't frighten it. It only sharpened its predatory ferocity.
Its long, sharp claws whipped out. Before either man could run, it seized both Onmyoji in its hands.
The cold touch of foul spiritual power hit them. Whatever nerve they had left collapsed instantly.
"Help! Help me! Shinigami! Help!"
They finally remembered the Shinigami they'd just told to leave. They wailed for help as tears and snot ran together. Their trousers darkened rapidly, a foul odor rising from them.
The Hollow didn't care.
It opened its massive mouth, revealing rows of shark-like teeth. It aimed at the goat-bearded Onmyoji's head and bit down without hesitation.
Crunch!
The sickening crack of bone echoed.
Crunch!
A second bite followed. The younger Onmyoji met the same fate.
Blood and filth splattered, staining the Hollow's mouth and the ground beneath.
The two headless bodies twitched weakly in the Hollow's claws, then were tossed aside.
The Hollow licked its lips, seemingly satisfied with the taste. It leaned in to feast on the rest.
At that exact moment—
A concentrated bolt of silver-white lightning pierced the air with a sharp whistle. It tore through the Hollow's masked head and blew it apart.
The lightning didn't stop with the kill. It plowed a scorched, shallow trench into the ground.
The Hollow's headless body stood frozen for a second—then dissolved into black Reishi dust and scattered on the wind.
Mirai's figure appeared nearby at some unknown point.
He slowly lowered his right index finger. Faint sparks still crawled over it.
He looked at the two corpses of the Onmyoji—already stiffening—then glanced at the spot where the Hollow had vanished. He sighed softly, with no real regret in his voice.
"I was one step too late."
He turned around.
Shiba Kaien landed nearby almost simultaneously.
The Third Seat of the 13th Division looked grim. His eyes swept over the corpses and the lingering trace of Hollow aura, then settled on Mirai standing there, composed.
Kaien's brow furrowed deeply. He had clearly sensed something abnormal.
Mirai looked at him, voice peaceful.
"Third Seat Kaien."