In that deep, dark Void, Sosuke Aizen's figure seemed to become the only source of light. His eyes flashed with endless longing and devotion for an ideal world.
This was not merely a contest of power against power, but a collision of convictions—a fierce conflict between Aizen's ultimate fantasy of merging perfect order with Absolute Freedom and the ancient, stable cosmic order represented by the Soul King.
Aizen's robes snapped in the invisible waves of power, every strand of cloth seeming to bear his unrivaled will.
His hands clenched into fists, faint blue light coiling around them. It was the outward manifestation of his unique power, as well as the banner with which he declared war on the old rules.
To break these shackles that had remained unchanged for ten thousand years, he needed absolute strength and an unquestionable resolve.
He slowly took a step forward. That single step seemed to cross the boundaries of time and space, making the entire universe tremble.
As Aizen drew closer, space began to twist violently, as if being torn apart by invisible hands. Time seemed to freeze, and the movements of every living and nonliving thing became sluggish and blurred.
Before Aizen's power, which surpassed all common sense, even the Soul King's defenses appeared so fragile.
Aizen's fist finally swung out. This strike was not merely a physical impact, but a crushing blow to the spirit.
Wherever the fist wind passed, space seemed to tear apart into countless fragments. Time slipped through the fingertips like quicksand, while all matter and energy lost their original forms beneath this blow, turning into empty chaos.
Even more horrifying was the intense will contained within that fist. Like tangible chains, the moment it touched its target, it clung like maggots to bone, swiftly seeping into every inch