Bazz-B and the Bambies stood frozen, their minds struggling to process what had just happened.
One moment, Mercer had been on the brink of defeat, his body battered, his breathing ragged.
The next—
"My blood is on your shirt."
A single sentence that sent a chill down their spines .
Then—
Shhhkkkk!
A long, hardened spike—black as night, jagged like bone—erupted from Bambietta's right chest, tearing through flesh and muscle before bursting out through her shoulder blade.
Her breath hitched, the air ripped from her lungs as her mouth fell open in a silent scream.
Then came the blood.
A violent, wet cough splattered crimson down her chin, her legs giving out beneath her. She collapsed onto her knees, trembling hands reaching for the spike lodged in her chest—a futile attempt to pull it out.
"H-Help… me…"
Her voice was weak, barely a whisper, but it carried raw desperation.
Yet, none of them moved.
They just stood there.
Candice. Giselle. Meninas. Even Liltotto.
All paralyzed—not by fear, but by something worse.
Something primal.
Horror .
Mercer, meanwhile, rose.
He didn't stagger. He didn't groan.
He stood, body restored, his once-tattered jacket stitched together as if it had never been damaged. The dirt and blood on his sleeves slid off like water, absorbed back into his form.
He rolled his shoulders, dusting off his coat.
Completely rejuvenated.
Then he took a step forward.
His shadow loomed over Bambietta's kneeling, broken form.
Reaching down, Mercer grabbed hold of the spike protruding from her chest—and with a sickening shlorp , the biomass reeled back into his palm, disappearing as if it had never been there.
Bambi gasped, collapsing onto her side.
Before she could even process what was happening, Mercer's hand clamped over her chest wound.
And then he whispered in her ear:
"I told you before… You'll make a fine addition to my army."
Black, writhing tendrils burst from his palm, slithering into her gaping wound.
Bambi's body arched in agony, her scream piercing through the air as the virus invaded her.
Then—
She went limp.
She wasn't dead.
Not yet.
But she was no longer just herself.
Liltotto was the first to speak, her voice uneven, filled with something between dread and disbelief.
"What just happened…? What did you do to her?"
Mercer looked at her, tilting his head slightly as if amused by the question.
"She's still alive. I saved her life… by infecting her with my virus."
A virus?
Liltotto's stomach twisted.
"Back where I was originally made, this always happens when I'm pushed into a corner." Mercer gestured to himself. "The more I consume, the more I evolve—stronger, faster, tougher, you name it. Feels like a shot of adrenaline… only better."
A memory surfaced—the reports of his massacre at the Senkaimon.
His absurd durability.
His ability to shapeshift, to morph, to adapt.
A creeping realization washed over her.
They hadn't been weakening him at all.
They had been feeding him.
All this time, the reishi attacks they hurled at him—arrows, explosions, physical strikes—he had been absorbing them, converting the energy into something far worse.
The only reason he fell…
Was because he wanted them to think they had won.
They were never ahead. They were never even close.
Bazz-B's fists clenched, his jaw tight. He realized it too.
This… thing…
Was not a Soul Reaper.
Was not an Arrancar.
Was not even human.
It wasn't a 'he'.
It was an it.
A sentient, parasitic entity, an apex predator, an evolving plague.
And now—
It was hunting them.
Mercer spread his right hand wide.
Black, pulsating biomass enveloped his arm, muscle and sinew bulging, stretching grotesquely before hardening into a massive, grotesque blade—jagged, serrated, pulsing with raw power.
"Now that explanations are in order…" He smirked, voice dripping with mockery. "Let's get this over with."
They barely had time to react.
All at once, their Blut Vene activated, veins glowing blue, their bodies shifting into defensive postures.
Mercer moved—
No.
He disappeared.
A mere blip in the air.
Liltotto's eyes widened in shock.
Shunpo?! Hirenkyaku?! How the hell is that possible?!
She barely had time to think before—
Giselle was the first to fall.
Mercer reappeared inches from her face, his left fist already buried in her gut.
The impact was instantaneous.
A deep, sickening CRACK echoed through the battlefield as Giselle's body crumpled, spit flying from her mouth as she was sent hurtling backward, crashing through the riverbed like a ragdoll.
Meninas reacted next, instincts kicking in.
Her left arm swelled, muscle mass tripling in size as she lunged at Mercer with an earth- shaking punch aimed straight for his face.
She knew better than anyone—strength was her weapon. If she could land just one solid hit—
Mercer didn't let her.
In an instant, he sidestepped, moving with inhuman precision.
Before she could even register the miss, his hand shot out, fingers clamping down onto her skull.
Then—
He slammed her head into the ground.
The force of the impact was unreal, the ground splitting apart from the sheer power of it.
Dust and debris exploded outward, a deep crater forming beneath them.
Meninas's body twitched, the sheer velocity of the slam sending shockwaves through her system.
"GALVANO JAVELIN!"
Candice, still in her Vollständig form, ripped one of her electrified wings from her back, its golden energy crackling like a living storm in her grip. With a snarl, she hurled it toward
Mercer, the lightning-infused projectile ripping through the air at blinding speed.
Mercer didn't flinch.
His hand snapped up, catching the wing mid-flight with a single, fluid motion. The golden arcs of electricity danced along his fingers, but if he felt anything, he didn't show it.
Then—
With a flick of his wrist, he threw it back at her.
"Shit—!"
Candice barely had time to react, crossing her arms in front of her as her Blut Vene activated just in time. The impact sent a violent shockwave outward, the air igniting in a brief burst of gold and blue light.
Smoke billowed around her.
Then suddenly—
Mercer was there.
Moving at impossible speeds, he broke through the smoke, closing the distance before she could even register his presence. His fist—now bulging with grotesque, musclebound biomass—collided with her abdomen like a wrecking ball.
BOOM!
The force bypassed her Blut Vene entirely, sending her rocketing across the battlefield like a ragdoll.
Her trajectory wasn't random.
Mercer had aimed her straight at Giselle.
The two collided violently, rolling across the ruined landscape in a tangled mess of limbs. Bazz-B's fists tightened, his eyes narrowing as he watched the brutal display.
"Is this guy for real…?" he muttered, his voice filled with something he hadn't felt in a long time—genuine unease.
He raised his hand, two fingers extended, reishi igniting at his fingertips.
Burner Finger 2.
If Mercer wasn't going to stay down, he'd make damn sure to incinerate him where he stood.
Liltotto, meanwhile, soared toward Bambietta, her expression twisted with something rare— worry.
Bambi's body was convulsing, her muscles twitching unnaturally as black tendrils coiled beneath her skin like living parasites. Her irises had turned a deep, crimson red, flickering with an eerie, sickly glow.
She was changing.
"Bambi…!"
Liltotto reached out—
Only for a hand to grab the back of her uniform.
Her heart stopped.
Mercer's voice was cold, detached, completely devoid of emotion as he spoke.
"There's nothing you can do for her anymore."
His grip tightened.
"She's mine now."
Then—
With terrifying ease, Mercer whipped her downward, sending her plummeting toward the ground like a meteor.
Meninas, having barely pushed herself to her feet, let out a furious roar, grabbing a massive chunk of rubble beside her.
She didn't hesitate.
Using her superhuman strength, she charged forward, attempting to ram him with it.
Mercer didn't even dodge.
He simply pulled back his fist—
Then swung.
The impact shattered the rubble into a cloud of debris, pieces flying in all directions.
Before Meninas could react, she felt something tighten around her waist.
Mercer had grabbed her.
In a blur, he lifted her over his shoulders in a fireman's carry—then launched her across the battlefield.
At the same time, Liltotto had just managed to stand up, groaning from the impact of her fall.
She looked up—
Only to see Meninas hurtling straight toward her.
CRASH!
The two collapsed into a heap, tumbling across the ground until they skidded to a stop near
Candice and Giselle, who were still reeling from Mercer's previous assault.
Giselle, panting heavily, struggled to push herself up. She had burned through most of her reishi just trying to heal herself and the others.
She barely had enough left to stand, let alone fight.
But that didn't stop her from glaring daggers at Mercer, her teeth clenched in a mixture of rage and desperation.
"Asshole… we're not done with you…!" she hissed.
Then, her voice rose, filled with a venomous, guttural fury.
"GIVE BAMBI-CHAN BACK!!!"
Mercer simply stared at her.
Then—
"No."
He rolled his left shoulder, the flesh warping, twisting—
Until his entire arm morphed into a massive, jagged Hammerfist.
"I'm done."
Before they could process his words, Mercer threw himself into the air, his monstrous left arm cocked back, ready to bring it down with all of his strength.
Liltotto's eyes widened in horror.
They were out of reishi.
They had nothing left.
This was it.
Then—
BOOM!
The ground exploded beneath them as Mercer landed, a shockwave blasting outward, sending them all flying in different directions.
Liltotto and Candice were flung toward the riverbed, their bodies skidding violently across the waterlogged terrain.
Meninas and Giselle were launched toward the opposite side, barely able to brace themselves as they crashed against the broken earth.
Mercer stood amidst the wreckage, his massive Hammerfist retracting, his gaze sweeping over his fallen enemies.
Then, he turned his back on them.
"Well then… who's ne—"
A hand clamped onto his shoulder.
Mercer's instincts flared, his body tensing—
Then—
"Right here."
Before he could react, Bazz-B's fist slammed into his jaw.
The impact sent Mercer soaring through the air, tumbling across the battlefield before he managed to regain control, digging his clawed hands into the dirt to halt his momentum.
He lifted his head—
Just in time to see a torrent of white-hot flames erupting toward him.
Bazz-B had already raised his hand, two fingers outstretched, Burner Finger 2 ignited.
The sheer heat evaporated the river water instantly, steam billowing into the air as the wave of fire surged toward Mercer.
Mercer didn't hesitate.
His entire body shifted.
His flesh twisted, hardening—
In mere seconds, his black armor formed, plating his body in an organic, living carapace.
The flames collided, engulfing him entirely—
But even as he was pushed backward, his form remained intact.
Bazz-B's breathing was ragged, his body screaming at him to stop—but his will refused to yield. His glare burned with the intensity of an inferno, unwavering, unyielding, even in the face of certain death.
"I'm not leaving this realm without taking a piece of your flesh."
His voice was hoarse, but resolute.
Mercer tilted his head slightly, an amused smirk tugging at his lips.
"You sure don't know how to quit, do you?"
Bazz-B clenched his fists, his burning reishi swirling around his fingers, igniting the air itself.
Of course I don't.
I know there's no way I can beat you.
There's no way I can kill you.
You're just like Yhwach—a force of nature, a being beyond my reach.
But—
I'M NOT GOING TO LET JUGO'S DEATH GO UNPUNISHED!!
"BURNING… FULL… FINGERS!!"
Fire erupted from all five fingers, a blazing, spiraling cone of destruction surging forward as Bazz-B charged—not to survive, but to make sure Mercer felt him.
To make sure his name wouldn't be forgotten.
Mercer's smile widened.
"THAT'S THE SPIRIT!"
With a low growl, he lunged forward, claws glinting, his body twisting into a bladed missile of flesh and violence.
Candice, lying half-conscious by the riverbed, turned her head weakly. Her vision blurred, but she could still make out two figures racing toward each other, their killing intent palpable, their very presence warping the air itself.
She knew how this would end.
Her body trembled as she tried to crawl forward, one hand reaching out, her lips barely forming the words.
"Bazz… no…"
But her body failed her.
Before she could even see the outcome, the pain overtook her, and the world around her went black.
Then—
The collision.
A wave of spiritual pressure erupted outward, shaking the very earth beneath them.
Then—
Silence.
…
Bazz-B's burning hand had pierced cleanly through Mercer's left chest, the flames still flickering from his fingertips as they protruded through the other side.
He had landed his attack.
Mercer looked down at the gaping wound in his chest.
His expression?
Amused.
"If only I were human…" Mercer muttered, a trickle of dark blood escaping the corner of his mouth.
"I swear, I would've been in pieces."
Bazz-B let out a shaky chuckle, his vision already dimming.
"Hah… you're one… tough bastard…" He exhaled, his lips curling into a half-smile.
"Too bad I won't be able to take you with me."
Mercer's claws were buried deep into Bazz-B's torso, skewering him clean through.
Both had landed their blows.
But only one of them was truly immortal.
Mercer's body twitched as the last embers of Bazz-B's attack faded, the burnt flesh already regenerating, his Blacklight composition ensuring that the damage was superficial at best.
Bazz-B, however, was done.
His legs buckled, his arm trembling, the last vestiges of his strength failing him.
Mercer watched him.
Even now—even knowing he couldn't win, knowing he was doomed from the start—he
never faltered.
He poured everything he had into that one attack.
He had my respect.
…
…
…
What a waste it would be—to let a man like this die.
Mercer reached out, placing his hand over Bazz-B's wounds.
Tendrils slithered from his palm, sinking into Bazz-B's flesh, worming their way into the torn muscle, the shattered organs, the very fabric of his being.
Bazz-B let out a strained grunt, his body tensing as the tendrils stitched him back together— his cells rewritten, his essence altered at the molecular level.
It was painful.
But he didn't scream.
Mercer's voice was steady, unwavering.
"You shall never die on my watch."
Bazz-B's body finally went limp, consciousness slipping away.
Mercer eased him down, placing him beside Bambietta, whose body had already begun the same transformation.
He stared at them—his newest creations.
His newest brethren.
Then, as the battlefield lay in ruin, Mercer exhaled, turning his gaze toward the sky.
"Now I have two new conscripts."
His form began to shift, his biomass pulsing as he prepared to return to his realm.
"Time to take them home."
Before Mercer could react, the air behind him warped—a disturbance in reality itself, folding inward as a portal tore itself open mere meters away.
From its dark, shifting depths, three figures emerged.
The first to step forward was tall, his long, dark hair flowing past his shoulders. A white cloak billowed slightly around him, his presence exuding a strange, suffocating weight. The lower half of his face was obscured by a dark mask, but the eerie void of his eyes was more than enough to unsettle even the strongest of foes. His buttoned trench coat remained pristine, as if untouched by battle.
Ås Nödt.
The second was a towering brute, his body barely contained by the Wandenreich uniform. Every muscle on his frame looked ready to burst through the fabric, like a grotesque parody of a warrior. His defining feature, however, was the golden luchador mask, its intricate details glinting in the faint light, accented by streaks of deep crimson.
Mask de Masculine.
The last to step through was tall and slim, his medium-length black hair marked by a bold white streak. A single stray strand hung down to his mouth, giving him a disheveled, careless appearance. Unlike the others, he didn't radiate fury or intimidation—only a casual, almost playful curiosity.
Askin Nakk Le Vaar.
"Ai, what a mess they made here."
Askin sighed, looking over the destruction around him with mild disinterest. The battlefield was scorched and torn, littered with craters and remnants of the battle Mercer had single- handedly dominated.
"So they lost to this vile villain? Such a pitiful tragedy!" Mask declared, striking an exaggerated pose, one fist to his chest as if delivering a monologue to an imaginary audience.
Askin cringed visibly, rubbing his temples.
"Damn, you just make it worse, dude."
"Fool."
Ås Nödt's voice was cold, devoid of emotion. He barely turned his head toward Mask before dismissing him entirely.
"We are not here to avenge them. We are here to retrieve the soldats who lost this fight."
His gaze settled on Mercer—his dark, abyssal eyes narrowing slightly as they flickered to the two Sternritters behind him.
His voice carried a sharp edge as he spoke again.
"You must be Alex Mercer. The one who killed Haschwalth and defeated His Majesty at Seireitei."
The very mention of Yhwach's downfall sent a ripple of contained fury through the air.
Mask growled openly, his fingers tightening into trembling fists. He didn't bother hiding his seething hatred—his entire body language screamed of barely restrained violence.
Ås Nödt, by contrast, remained still—but Mercer could tell, even with his mask, that the scorn was there.
Only Askin seemed... unbothered.
If anything, he looked mildly intrigued rather than enraged.
Mercer, however, was only half-listening.
He was more interested in analyzing them.
Sitting cross-legged on the rubble-strewn battlefield, he barely even acknowledged the tension in the air. His reiatsu vision flared, shifting his perception into the infrared spectrum of spirit particles.
Ås Nödt.
His presence was like a shroud of living darkness, a void-like entity that seemed to pull at the very fabric of reality around him. A fear-inducing anomaly, yet Mercer's instincts told him…
That's all it was. A mind game.
He wasn't physically dangerous. His power relied entirely on psychological warfare—which meant nothing to Mercer.
Noted. Next,
Mask de Masculine.
A powerhouse, for sure—his reishi composition was dense, his muscular structure far beyond human limits. But it was all brute force, nothing Mercer hadn't dealt with before. A one-trick brawler, predictable.
The muscle-headed luchador of a clown. Not a threat.
Moving on.
Askin Nakk Le Vaar.
At first glance? Nothing special.
But Mercer's vision flickered—something was off.
He adjusted his sensory range, scanning deeper.
And there it was.
A strange, ever-shifting reishi signature, constantly adapting, adjusting to the environment around him. It was subtle, but Mercer knew what he was looking at.
A man who could manipulate his own cellular tolerance.
Interesting. You have my attention.
For now.
Mercer exhaled slowly.
He shifted slightly, resting his right elbow on his knee, then cupped his chin in his calloused palm, his fingers drumming lightly against his cheek.
"So…"
His tone was languid, almost bored—but his smirk was sharp.
"Only the three of you came? That's it?"
The air shifted—his voice lowered, carrying the weight of unspoken danger.
"Who's next in line?"
A challenge.
Ås Nödt remained silent, but Mercer could feel his fingers twitch.
Mask cracked his knuckles loudly.
Askin?
He just grinned