Something Was Wrong-Terribly, Utterly Wrong!

Bleach World: The World of the Living, Above the Clouds

The night was as dark as ink, and the sky hung low like a curtain.

A thousand meters above the ground, a dense cloud moved silently, like a tsunami frozen in a dream.

The wind, carrying the scent of damp cold and thunder, swept across the steel forest, stirring the atmosphere of the entire city.

Uchiha Yoru stood with his hands behind his back, looking down from the distant void, which was almost as high as the clouds.

His figure was solitary, yet exuded an aura of divine oppression.

His trench coat fluttered in the wind, and his black hair flowed freely behind him, like the night draped over his shoulders; his presence almost blended into the endless darkness.

His gaze pierced through the clouds, taking in the city below—familiar yet strange.

Skyscrapers stand like a forest, neon lights shimmer, and traffic flows like veins, ceaselessly.

Every inch of the city is running at high speed, like a biological organism precisely controlled by a program, maintaining a fragile balance between death and the void.

"... even the clouds smell the same."

The night murmured softly, its tone slow, as if speaking to a phantom deep within its memory.

He narrowed his eyes, a gentle ripple of water seeming to shimmer in them.

"Apart from--"

He paused, raised an eyebrow slightly, and his expression became subtle for a moment.

"Bank card balance."

His tone was flat, tinged with sarcasm, and also resembled an abrupt self-deprecating remark.

A slight smirk played on his lips, a half-smile that seemed to have touched upon a dark chapter of his life he'd rather forget.

But he didn't dwell on it for long.

The next second, the wind and clouds shifted.

In the sky, a massive void crawled out from the clouds, its six limbs like a spider's and its mask menacing.

It drifted here following the residual spiritual pressure, attempting to prey on the remnants of souls.

But as it approached that solitary figure high in the sky—

It stopped.

Something's not right, absolutely not right!

It was like some kind of instinct screaming a signal to flee.

"...!!!"

Before it could even struggle, the enormous soul suddenly trembled, its entire existence seemingly wiped out from its very source. Before it could even let out a mournful cry, it was instantly twisted, shattered, and annihilated, ultimately being swept into a black rift that appeared silently.

It's as if they never existed.

Ye didn't make a move, or even make an attack gesture.

He merely frowned.

"A creature as small as an insect, dares to approach me?"

His tone carried a nonchalant disgust, like the instinctive aversion of a higher-dimensional being to lower-level noise.

He lightly raised his right hand, his five fingers casually spread out.

In an instant, the sky shattered like a mirror, spiritual particles shifted like a tide, and the entire web of rules in the World of the Living trembled slightly but clearly.

That wasn't the Shinigami's spiritual pressure.

It's not a spirit wave from Hueco Mundo.

It was a higher-dimensional, command-based interference, like some kind of divine-level "tuning".

He landed slowly.

Below me was the rooftop of an abandoned building, where rusted railings and broken advertising lights rustled in the wind.

The city lights surged like a sea of stars, reflecting into his eyes across distant streets and time zones.

He walked to the edge of the rooftop, sat down, and sat casually, like a worker who had just finished a night shift in hell.

In his hand, a lollipop appeared. The wrapper was swept up by the wind, stuck to the edge of a crack in the ground, and then pushed away by the wind, spinning half a circle.

"... This sugar is way too sweet."

He frowned, his tone excessively serious, as if he were pondering some philosophical paradox.

But in the end, he didn't throw it away; he just gently bit it and held it in his mouth.

"From a dimensional lord to a convenience store in the World of the Living... that's quite a leap."

He whispered, talking to himself, but there was no confusion in his eyes.

Like a god descending to earth alone for the first time, tasting the sweetness of the mortal world, but while figuring out the recipe, he also analyzes the neural structure of the entire planet.

Through the city's prosperity, he seemed to see a deeper, decaying order of souls, and those unspeakable variables hidden beneath the Grim Reaper system.

"Aizen was just sealed away... The Soul Society is probably still licking its wounds."

"Perfect."

"Let me see—what exactly is this order that these 'guardians' are upholding?"

He raised his head, his gaze precisely locking onto a corner of the city.

Under the dim yellow light at the entrance of the convenience store.

A boy carrying a schoolbag walked out the door, his slightly tired expression revealing a hint of wariness. He was unaware that he was being watched from a higher dimension.

--Ichigo Kurosaki

He was once an agent of death.

He once severed Aizen and shattered the light of the Hōgyoku.

But now... I am just a "mortal".

The night smiled softly.

"Truly worthy of being the chosen one of this world."

"The hook set up by the Soul King... was indeed hidden on this guy."

He read it aloud in a low voice, as if he were flipping through an old script, but his tone was chillingly cold.

The next second, his figure vanished into the void like ripples on water, without a sound.

Convenience store entrance

Ichigo Kurosaki walked out of the convenience store, carrying a can of drink in his hand.

He tilted his head back and took a sip, his brows furrowing slightly, as if he had noticed something.

"Hey, Baboon Prince."

He called out softly.

"Something's not right, can you sense it?"

A voice came from the doll, its tone as sharp as ever:

"Of course it is, the air is freezing cold, I'm not blind to spiritual pressure."

But they hadn't even had a chance to make a move.

"Snap--"

It's like someone pressed the "pause" button.

The entire world fell silent in an instant.

The car stopped, the lights stopped, the wind stopped.

The street seemed frozen in a moment on film, eerily silent.

Then--

The wind rises.

A figure silently emerged from the void.

Dressed in black with long hair, his expression languid, his steps slow, yet he seemed to have traversed from another dimension.

Ichigo Kurosaki retreated abruptly, his soul instinctively focusing on the structure of his Zanpakuto, only to be horrified to discover:

--Unable to move.

His consciousness and time flow were disrupted; it was as if he had been thrown into a higher-dimensional force field, and even his physical senses were compressed.

"You are... a void?"

No, it's not...

He forced himself to remain calm, yet felt a fear that came from the depths of his biological instincts.

"Is it Death?"

Night's gaze fell upon him, as if he were merely glancing at a blade of grass by the roadside.

What do you think?

His tone was so indifferent it was almost devoid of warmth.

He approached and casually patted Ichigo on the shoulder, like a stranger striking up a conversation on a street late at night.

"Take it easy."

I'm not interested in you.

"Just to see... what the 'Soul King's backup plan' looks like."

He chuckled, a smile like a crack in a collapsing glacier—dangerous, yet without hostility.

Ichigo suddenly turned around.

But his figure had already vanished without a trace.

The oppressive feeling suddenly subsided, and the sounds of the city flooded back into our ears.

The sounds of cars, people, and lights returned to normal.

It was as if nothing had happened.

But his back was still damp with cold sweat.

That's not "spiritual pressure".

It is a power that no Grim Reaper or Hollow can wield.

That's a higher level of existence—

For the first time in a battle, Ichigo felt like he wasn't a "participant."

Rather, it's the observed variable.

On the other side of the city, on the rooftop of a high-rise building

Ye leaned against the wall, looked up at the sky, and saw that most of the lollipop in her hand had melted.

He gently bit into the candy, as if chewing on the lifeblood of the world.

The wind blew his black robe, but he did not move again.

With eyes half-closed, it was as if a voice from a distant dimension was whispering.

"I was right."

"The Soul King's 'seed of will' has begun to struggle on its own."

He slowly closed his eyes, as if sensing some kind of throbbing deep within his soul's network.

Then—slowly opening her eyes, her gaze reflecting the city's spiritual structure.

"So--"

"Next."

Let's make this world a little more lively.

The wind brushed against the hem of his clothes.

The Hueco Mundo trembled, and the Great Hollow howled.

The Soul Society, however, was still immersed in the aftermath of the "Aizen War" and in self-deception.

And the night has already whispered the prelude to God's judgment:

"Main character."

"Rule."

"The Soul King."

"I will take them apart one by one and examine them."