Baraggan fired a King Cero, wisps of smoke curling from his palm.
"What a pity about that brat. If he hadn't been so arrogant, I might have taken him under my command," Baraggan muttered, seemingly to himself.
Aizen was nowhere to be seen in the great hall. It seemed the King Cero had blasted the boy to ash.
But in the next instant, a blade flashed, and Baraggan's right arm flew off. Every Menos Grande in the hall fell silent.
What had happened?
Only Salkapolo stared in shock.
Baraggan... what are you doing? Why are you fighting thin air?
Of everyone present, Salkapolo alone had not seen Kyōka Suigetsu's Shikai. He alone remained clearheaded.
Baraggan clutched his severed arm in agony. Though he was nothing but bones, he could still feel pain.
"Well, well. Is this the strength of the so-called King of Hueco Mundo? How disappointing." Aizen appeared before Baraggan like a ghost, a mocking smile on his face.
Baraggan felt as though every bone in his body had gone weak. What happened? How did he cut me?
Wasn't that brat supposed to be dead?
"King Ce—"
Before he could fire a second King Cero, Aizen severed his other arm with one stroke.
Baraggan collapsed to the floor with a scream, unable to believe any of this was real.
I'm the king of Hueco Mundo. How could I lose to a brat?
"Baraggan, your era is over. Will you kneel at my feet and submit, or die by my blade? I'm a very democratic person. I'll let you choose." Aizen pointed his sword at him.
Baraggan had never imagined the fight would end so quickly, much less with his own crushing defeat.
"Impossible! This is impossible! It has to be an illusion. Your Zanpakuto creates illusions, doesn't it?" Baraggan