A second clash across a thousand years
The scorching heat poured down through the cracks in the broken roof, instantly dispelling the remaining chill in the surroundings.
Yhwach slightly tilted the pure white broadsword in his hand, the tip of the sword moving away from the back of Ichigo Kurosaki's neck.
A rare, deep chill flashed across that imposing and sinister face.
Step, step, step.
The slow, powerful thud of wooden clogs echoed through the empty corridor, each step accompanied by the blackened cracks in the stone bricks.
An aged figure, draped in a wide Captain's Haori, calmly stepped into the ruins of the main hall, passing through the swirling sparks and white smoke.
The old man leaned on a simple wooden cane with his hands folded together, his one remaining eye half-closed, and his long, snow-white beard swaying gently in the hot wind.
"It's a shame I didn't kill you last time."
Yhwach looked down at the old man below the steps, his tone cold, and said, "Want to experience it again, Shigekuni Yamamoto?"
Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryūsai stopped in his tracks, slightly raising his cloudy, single eye to meet the gaze cast from the high platform.
"The one who stood before me last time, wagging its tail and begging for mercy, was nothing but a mere shell of a fake."
Yamamoto spoke calmly, tapping his wooden cane lightly on the stone slab.
A the Heat wave of heat emanated from the base of the staff, forcing the black swamp spreading across the ground back three feet.
Yhwach's lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Regardless of who stood before you at that time, the incompetence and hesitation you displayed have already been recorded in the Future."
Even if I were lucky enough to survive, what can I change by clinging to life like this?
Yhwach swung his broadsword and said calmly, "Your proud Soul Society has now crumbled beneath our feet."
Despite these hurtful words, Yamamoto's expression remained unchanged.
"I have lived for over a thousand years; I am long since a remnant, discarded by the old era."
Yamamoto slowly opened his single eye, his gaze calmly fixed on the high and mighty founder of the Quincy.
"But Yhwach, you too are a ghost abandoned by the times."
"I have already entrusted the heavy responsibility of Captain-Commander to the younger generation. The Future of Soul Society will be explored and protected by those who come after me."
And what about you?
Yamamoto took a half step forward, and the sparks around him danced even more intensely.
"A thousand years ago, you led your army to sweep across the land, proclaiming yourself the god and kin of all Quincy."
"Now you have taken away the power of all your followers, discarded them like worn-out shoes, and stand alone on this empty throne."
"Right now, you're nothing more than a lonely soul who devoured all your companions to fill your own emptiness."
These words pierced through the gale, causing a slight stagnation in the air within the hall.
Yhwach's face darkened, and a black mist churned deep within his eyes.
"What a laughable excuse, Shigekuni Yamamoto."
Yhwach calmly replied, "Subordinates are sacrifices that exist to ensure the return of the progenitor to his throne; how can they be considered alone?"
Just as the two were facing off across the distance, a sharp and impatient tone abruptly cut in.
"Ugh, what a pungent, burnt smell! The once perfectly constructed Reishi structure has been completely destroyed."
A strange figure slowly emerged from the shadows at the entrance of the main hall.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi wore a huge, Sun Wheel- shaped bone horn crown, and the black and white patterns on his mask looked both comical and sinister.
His hands were tucked into his wide sleeves, and four semi-transparent metal storage pods floated behind him.
"Old man, you left in a bit too hastily; you almost melted my experimental recorder."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi to himself, Mayuri Kurotsuchi took comical, shuffling steps to the edge of the pit.
Yhwach's gaze merely swept casually over Mayuri Kurotsuchi, without making any move to stop him.
In the eyes of the primordial being who ruled over the omniscient world, it was meaningless where a few dying ants fled to.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi glanced down at Ichigo Kurosaki, who was slumped at the bottom of the pit, his eyes full of disdain.
"Tsk, what an extremely ugly posture, Ichigo Kurosaki."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi kicked at the pebbles beside the pit, and said with a sneer, "You've got yourself all riddled with holes, what a sorry sight."
Ichigo Kurosaki struggled to lift his face, his chest heaving violently, and he coughed up a mouthful of blood.
"Kuro... Mayuri?"
Ichigo's throat was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper being rubbed against it. "Go save Inoue and Rukia first... Hurry!"
"I... I can still move, I can still keep chopping that bastard!"
The boy struggled to prop himself up on his elbows, trying to grab the huge broken blade beside him again.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi snorted coldly and gave him a disdainful look.
"Shut up, you shoddy test subject."
Mayuri Kurotsuchi raised his fingers and tapped them rapidly in the air, then flicked out several flexible metal clasps from his sleeve.
The metal clasp wrapped around Ichigo's waist and abdomen without warning, forcibly pulling him up.
"Let me go! I haven't lost yet!"
Ichigo Kurosaki kicked wildly, trying to break free of the restraints with the last bit of Reiatsu he had left.
"Shut up."
With Mayuri Kurotsuchi stuffed Ichigo into the semi-transparent storage compartment on the far left.
The moment the hatch closed, a pale purple anesthetic solution quickly filled the cabin, completely silencing the boy's protests within the bubbles.
"What a waste! This life support pod, specially made by the director, is being used to store these cumbersome components."
While grumbling incessantly, Mayuri Kurotsuchi manipulated the remaining three metal devices.
A miniature robotic arm extended from below the device, precisely and steadily drawing Orihime Inoue, Renji Abarai, and Rukia Kuchiki, who were lurking in the corner of the ruins, into the cabin.
A soft green light flickered on the surface of the cabin, forcibly locking down the three people's fading vital signs.
Having done all this, Mayuri Kurotsuchi turned around, dragging the four floating storage devices, and headed towards the exit of the main hall.
As he passed by Yamamoto, Mayuri Kurotsuchi didn't even lift his eyelids.
"Old man, hurry up, don't burn this place down to the bone. I don't want to end up with nothing left to even find a sample."
Before the words were finished, the strange footsteps, along with the hum of the airship, faded into the distance, disappearing into the depths of the broken corridor.
The empty and dilapidated hall returned to its initial silence.
The howling wind swept across the rubble and raised clouds of dust.
Shigekuni Yamamoto-Genryūsai slowly raised his left hand and grasped the tip of the wooden staff.
The wooden outer shell peeled away inch by inch, turning into wisps of blue smoke and dissipating, revealing the ancient and dull scabbard beneath.
Boom!
A vast and violent golden flame erupted from the hilt of the sword, instantly transforming into a towering pillar of fire that completely engulfed the dilapidated dome of the entire hall.
The marble surface beneath their feet began to soften and melt rapidly under the terrifyingly high temperature, turning into thick, reddish-brown magma.
The old man's beard and robe danced wildly in the sea of fire, his single eye gleaming with a resolute light that seemed intent on burning everything in its path.
"All things, nothingness, will turn to ashes."
The deep, resonant chanting echoed through the ruins of the main hall.
"Ryūjin Jakka"
At the top of the steps, Yhwach looked down at the receding and collapsing black swamp beneath his feet, his indifference finally turning into a chilling coldness.
The man slowly raised the pure white broadsword in his hand, and on the blade, the Holy Reishi, interwoven with black and pure white, surged violently.
"A thousand years have passed, and you have become corrupt, Shigekuni Yamamoto!"