Hueco Mundo battlefield.
Moonlight flowed like water, while the howling cold wind carried a heavy stench of blood that filled the wasteland and refused to disperse.
Beneath the moonlight lay a gruesome scene like a meat grinder.
Unidentifiable severed limbs mixed with viscous blood. The heat rising from time to time evaporated the flowing rivers of blood into red mist, spreading across the boundless desert.
Mountain-like bodies lay shattered, charred organs writhed, and pale spines scattered across the ground like long worms, displaying the brutality of war.
Although Hollow spiritual pressure had a certain suppressive effect on Quincy, it was still far from enough against the Wandenreich's elite soldiers.
Only Arrancar could confront them head-on.
But compared to ordinary Hollow, Arrancar were still too few in number, and the Wandenreich had Holy Soldiers to counter them.
A single Holy Soldier might not be able to defeat an Arrancar, but once they gathered in sufficient numbers, Arrancar below the Espada found it nearly impossible to deal with them.
Baraggan gazed expressionlessly at the miserable scene before him, his heart utterly unmoved.
If Aizen had not given the order, he would not even have participated in this pointless war.
As the oldest known Menos, Baraggan had experienced countless wars. Even scenes far more brutal than this could not shake his state of mind, much less a small-scale clash like this.
A thousand years ago, Quincy had also entered Hueco Mundo.
But back then, they had been nowhere near as savage and powerful as they were now.
A thousand years had passed. Though the Quincy had grown much stronger, so had he. He had gained new power, mighty strength that broke through the limits of a Menos soul.
Baraggan raised his bronze-colored hand. Unlike its former skeletal appearance, it was now covered in