The underground passage beneath the First Division Barracks seemed endless.
Yoriichi followed the spiraling stone steps, descending step by step toward Muken in the deepest depths.
His physical condition was far from good.
To forcibly stabilize the collapsing Three Realms, he had torn his own fundamental power out of himself.
Now, with every step, his legs grew unbearably heavy.
If not for his sheer physical conditioning sustaining him, he would have collapsed in the rubble long ago.
This pitch-black hellhole did not have a single living creature in it and never saw daylight.
Staying here too long would wear anyone's nerves thin.
He had no idea how Aizen had kept his sanity after being imprisoned here for so long.
Oppressive fluctuations of Reishi filled the air.
The surrounding stone walls were covered in complex sealing incantations, cutting off all perception of the outside world.
At last, Yoriichi reached the end of the passage.
A heavy iron door stood before him.
Yoriichi raised a hand and pushed the door open with what little Reiatsu he had left.
The hinges grated with a piercing noise that echoed through the empty space.
Beyond the door lay a vast, dark hall.
At the very center of his view stood a specially made chair of bizarre design.
Sōsuke Aizen sat upright in that chair.
Thick black sealing bands wrapped his entire body, leaving him completely unable to move.
Apart from his deep left eye and the faintly upturned corner of his mouth, he could move nothing.
Hearing the door open, Aizen slowly turned his left eye, his gaze settling on Yoriichi.
He did not speak immediately, merely studying the visitor before him in silence.
After a while, Aizen smiled faintly. "What a rare visitor."
His voice echoed through Muken, carrying his usual composure.
"Your Reiatsu