With the new borders consolidated and the Eastern Empire in absolute silence after the massacre in the clouds, Sirzechs Gremory turned his gaze toward the newly annexed lands. He did not desire mere military outposts; he sought the creation of a sanctuary for the elite of his manifested race. Using the Ultimate Skill [Shiva], he projected a vision that united the coldness of Hueco Mundo with the sophistication of a European imperial metropolis.
Reality bent to Sirzechs's command. From the rocky soil rose palaces of white marble so pure it gleamed with a lunar luminescence, even under the sun. This was Las Noches of Alabaster, a fourth city. But unlike the others, it had neither terracotta roofs nor colorful gardens. The architecture was a blend of celestial Gothic and neoclassicism: endless crystal towers, ogival ivory arches, and immense plazas of frigid marble made from solidified light.
The population that came to inhabit this city was composed exclusively of Hollows and Arrancars who had developed the evolution of consciousness through Sirzechs's Soul Corridor. They were beings of icy beauty and overwhelming power, dressed in white gala uniforms with silver and crimson details, traversing the crystal avenues with predatory traits. Sirzechs walked through the main hall of the Las Noches dome, where the ceiling was not of stone, but a magic lens that revealed an eternal night sky, regardless of the time of day. Grayfia Lucifuge accompanied him, her heels echoing on the floor that looked like a liquid silver mirror. She watched the elite Arrancars kneeling in perfect synchronization as the sovereign passed.
— This city is the reflection of our hidden strength, Grayfia — Sirzechs said, stopping before an immense window overlooking the central courtyard, where Ulquiorra and Grimmjow supervised the guard's training. — Here, their destructive nature is refined by order and aesthetics. They are no longer monstrous; they are an aristocracy of annihilation.
Grayfia adjusted her posture, maintaining her usual rigidity, but her silver eyes analyzed every detail of the infrastructure.
— The spiritual pressure in this fourth city is so dense that the atmosphere itself glows, Lord Sirzechs. The merit-based organization is working, but the task of coordinating the trade of scientific materials between Las Noches and New Alabaster is piling up. These arrangements may be divine in combat, but their notion of filling out import forms is... nonexistent.
Sirzechs chuckled, the soft sound contrasting with the aura of power emanating from the walls.
— They will learn. Etiquette is a form of combat, and I expect them to master it as well as they master the Cero.
The fourth city completed the empire's quadrant, functioning as an elite reserve. While Avalon was a diplomatic face, Las Noches was the mystical and military heart, a city of cold and absolute beauty provided as the final reminder to anyone who dared to defy the House of Gremory: in Alabaster, even the shadow is made of marble and light.
The atmosphere in Las Noches of Alabaster was one of biting serenity. Sirzechs occupied the observation throne in the fourth city's private coliseum, a circular arena of translucent marble that seemed to float over an abyss of light. Beside him, Grayfia maintained an impeccable posture, holding the precision stopwatch and reviewing projected structural damage reports.
— Lord Sirzechs — Grayfia began, her voice firm and professional — Grimmjow and Ulquiorra are ready for the exhibition. However, I must remind you that the repair cost of this crystal arena, should they lose control of their Ultimate Skills, equals the annual budget of three Farmenas provinces.
Sirzechs let out an amused sigh, his eyes fixed on the arena.
— Consider it a moral investment, Grayfia. The people of Las Noches need to see what level evolution can take them to.
At the center of the arena, the tension was palpable. Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez and Ulquiorra Cifer glared at each other. Without warning, Grimmjow released his Ultimate Skill. The space around him not only trembled; it began to fragment like glass. He charged toward Ulquiorra with a claw charged with black energy. Ulquiorra, with his habitual coldness, manifested his own evolution. His black bat wings were now made of stellar matter. He simply raised his hand, and a shield of absolute nullification absorbed the impact.
— It's fascinating — Sirzechs commented. — Grimmjow is the destruction that consumes, while Ulquiorra is the void that restores. They are the two sides of Shiva's coin.
The demonstration ended when both unleashed a fraction of their final attacks, creating a pillar of crimson and green light that pierced the sky of Las Noches, visible even from the most distant borders of Jura. Thousands of Arrancars in the stands struck their chests in salute, a rhythmic sound that echoed like a giant heartbeat. As soon as the crystalline dust settled, the transition to the next phase was immediate. The arena sand was purified by cleansing magic, and the combat environment gave way to sophistication. The First Ball of Las Noches was about to begin in the Grand Hall of Spheres.
Sirzechs walked through the hall, now devoid of a destructive aura, attired in the fashion of a European monarch. Rimuru, who had been invited to the reception, entered the hall and stood jaw-dropped.
— Sirzechs... this is surreal — Rimuru said, adjusting his formal suit. — In the Coliseum, they pleased the gods of war, and here... they look like the most refined aristocracy I've ever seen. How on earth did you convince Grimmjow to wear a tie?
— Etiquette is the supreme form of self-control, Rimuru — Sirzechs replied, accepting a glass of wine from an Arrancar who bowed with perfect grace. — If they can control their predatory instincts to dance a waltz, they can control any battlefield.
The chamber music filling the Grand Hall of Spheres did not cease, but its cadence seemed to freeze in the air. At the center of the liquid marble hall, a rift of pure scarlet energy tore through space, and from it emerged the imposing figure of Guy Crimson. The Primordial Demon Lord brought no troops; he brought only his overwhelming presence, dressed in ruby and black formal wear that rivaled Sirzechs's sophistication.
The silence that fell was absolute. The Arrancars of Las Noches instinctively brought their hands to the hilts of their swords, but a simple hand gesture from Sirzechs maintained order. Grayfia took a step forward, her icy expression showing no trace of tremor, even though her [Cocytus] aura was ready to be released at the slightest sign of hostility.
— Guy — Sirzechs said, releasing Grayfia's hand after the waltz and walking with a calm smile toward the intruder. Guy Crimson let out a short, captivating laugh, his blood-red eyes sweeping across the hall with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.
— My, oh my, Sirzechs. To feel a fluctuation of power as divine as the one your "pups" just unleashed and not come check out the feast would be a sin. Besides, I wanted to see this... Las Noches with my own eyes. I must say, you have good taste in marble.
Guy moved to a crystal table and, with a flair that made the human nobles present shudder, picked up an alabaster wine glass. He raised the glass toward Sirzechs, capturing the light of the crystal chandeliers.
— A toast — Guy declared, his voice resonating with the weight of millennia. — To the new "God" who decided to play architect in this world. Your evolution, Sirzechs... Shiva, isn't it? You've broken the balance I've worked so hard to maintain. Veldanava would be proud—or perhaps terrified.
Sirzechs accepted a glass from an Arrancar servant and returned the gesture, the two Ultimate auras colliding invisibly in the center of the hall.
— The previous balance was static, Guy. Avalon and Las Noches are balance in motion — Sirzechs replied serenely. — I do not covet your throne, nor will I permit anyone to dictate the rules of my empire.
— We'll see — Guy smiled, drinking the wine in a single gulp. — But since I'm here, and the music is excellent... Grayfia, would you mind granting me the next dance? Or is your master too possessive of his "Silver Queen"?
Grayfia looked at Sirzechs, awaiting silent permission, before executing a perfect bow to Guy.
— It would be an honor, Lord Crimson. As long as you can keep pace with Alabaster's rhythm without destroying the floor.
As Guy and Grayfia headed to the center of the hall for a dance that was, in truth, a duel of spiritual pressures disguised as etiquette, Rimuru moved closer to Sirzechs, wiping the cold sweat from his forehead.
— Sirzechs... you're seriously playing with the end of the world here — Rimuru whispered. — If Guy decides he doesn't like the decor, Las Noches vanishes off the map.
— Relax, Rimuru — Sirzechs observed the dance with an analytical gaze. — Guy respects strength and style. As long as we provide him with both, he's the most interesting guest we've had. But keep Ulquiorra on alert. Guy never comes just for the wine.
The ball proceeded, now under the watchful eye of the world's most powerful being, transforming the celebration of Las Noches into a high-stakes diplomatic game where every waltz step was a declaration of sovereignty.