An Irresistible Condition

Aizen stood quietly in place, holding the long blade reversed in his left hand. His movements were so unhurried that none of Las Noches' forces present felt any hostility from him.

Although the gesture of displaying his blade looked somewhat strange, it was nowhere near enough to frighten these battle-hardened soldiers.

It was an utterly unremarkable Zanpakuto. Its plain guard, jade-green handle wrapping, and rather pale blade all conveyed a single word—

"Weak."

"What the hell? This Soul Reaper really just drew his sword to show weakness?" Grimmjow grumbled unhappily from behind. "I was all ready to rush over..."