"Alright, that's enough fun."
Masatsuki Aozaki casually scanned the dungeon hall, now reduced to rubble, before pulling out a well-preserved pill from inside his clothing.
He ran his tongue over his lips, tilted his head back, and popped the pill into his mouth. Grinning, he revealed his pristine white teeth as he bit down with a satisfying crunch.
"Everyone... thank you for risking your lives to fight me. This battle was truly enjoyable!"
"I look forward to our next encounter. Hopefully, you'll be stronger next time."
Masatsuki propped one foot on a boulder, taking a moment to catch his breath. In just a few seconds, his Reiryoku had fully replenished.
Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he glanced at the prisoners sprawled across the ground, then turned toward the dungeon's exit.
Upon stepping outside, he turned to one of the Shinigami stationed at the entrance.
"Turn the surveillance bugs back on."
"Yes, sir."
One of the Shinigami, eyes filled with admiration, gave a nod before running off toward the monitoring room.
"Aozaki-sama."
Another Shinigami suddenly stepped forward and spoke respectfully.
"What is it?" Masatsuki frowned slightly.
"Just now, the Captain and Ninth Seat Ichimaru came by. They said Shin'ō Academy was under attack, and the Central 46 Compound has ordered reinforcements."
"I see."
Masatsuki rubbed his chin, nodding as he processed the information.
Without hesitation, he left the Nest of Maggots, taking two squad members with him as he headed toward Shin'ō Academy.
He stepped through the door with a carefree ease, as if he were heading out on a casual outing with classmates.
The moment the door closed behind him, Seireitei fell into a deathly silence.
Masatsuki walked for some time, but his pace gradually slowed.
Not far ahead, he noticed two patrolling Shinigami holding lanterns. He frowned.
Seireitei at night was nothing new to him. Many of his activities required the cover of darkness—where sins could be concealed in the shadows.
Maybe it was a remnant of logic from his past life, but he had always felt that nighttime was the safest time to do bad things.
It was self-deception, perhaps, but that irrational belief had always brought him a strange sense of security.
Yet… tonight felt different.
"What are they standing there for? Slacking off?" Masatsuki muttered casually, though his muscles had already tensed, ready for combat at a moment's notice.
He could tell the difference between a patrolling Shinigami and a stationed guard.
And he knew the difference between the living and the dead.
The air was unnervingly still.
The two figures in the distance remained motionless, yet there was no sense of life coming from them.
His seemingly offhand remark had also caught the attention of two Onmitsukidō members lurking in the shadows.
They froze, holding their breath as they carefully observed their surroundings from the rooftops.
A long moment passed before Masatsuki felt the familiar sensation of a gentle breeze against his skin.
Yes… night really was the best time to do bad things.
Glancing up at the sky, now obscured by thick clouds, his hand slowly moved to the hilt of his blade.
...
"Is that a patrol Shinigami?!"
"Damn it! Who would dare commit murder within Seireitei?!"
"Their bodies haven't dissolved into Reishi yet—the attacker must still be nearby!"
Shouting, several night patrol Shinigami gripped their lanterns tightly and ran in the direction of the bloodstains.
But just as they rounded a street corner, several dark figures suddenly dropped from above.
They wore black masks and night-ops attire that blended seamlessly into the darkness, exuding an air of mystery.
A flash of cold steel.
Squelch! Squelch!!
The sickening sound of blood spraying filled the air as the patrol Shinigami let out pained cries, collapsing to the ground one by one.
Similar scenes played out all across the Sixth District, where the line between life and death blurred in the night.
...
In front of the Sixth Division barracks, a patrolling Shinigami stood frozen in terror, eyes wide as he watched a gleaming blade arc through the air.
In an instant, a figure appeared before him.
The newcomer was wrapped in bandages, his Zanpakutō raised high, its edge flashing with deadly precision.
Slash!!
With a single motion, the assassin in midair faltered, their body going limp as blood sprayed outward.
The attacker, still gasping for breath on the ground, was immediately restrained by the Shinigami behind him.
Turning his head, the bandaged figure spoke gently.
"Are you hurt?"
"You're... Lieutenant Kuchiki?!" The stunned Shinigami snapped back to reality, his fear replaced with relief. He nodded quickly. "Y-Yes! I'm fine! Thank you so much, Lieutenant Kuchiki!"
Sōjun Kuchiki gave a small nod.
Just then, another Shinigami approached him and whispered.
"Lieutenant, you should come take a look."
Sōjun frowned. "What is it, Third Seat Ginjirō?"
"The attacker killed himself," Ginjirō replied. "He had poison hidden in his mouth. By the time we noticed, the toxin had already taken effect. He struggled for a moment before dying completely."
Sōjun listened, momentarily caught off guard. His gaze flickered slightly, and his expression turned increasingly grim.
Something felt off.
After years of battling rebels, he knew one thing for certain—the rebels didn't have assassination squads.
They, like the Shinigami of the Gotei 13, preferred direct combat with swords.
But these assassinations... this method of killing... it reminded him of only two groups.
One was the Onmitsukidō, the stealth force known for assassination.
The other—were the retainers trained in secrecy by noble families.
The Kuchiki Clan, being the model of nobility, naturally did not keep such retainers.
Their strict code of honor upheld direct combat. Assassination and underhanded tactics were beneath them. They did not rely on external forces—only their own strength.
However, Sōjun was well aware that many noble families did not share the same ideals.
To some nobles, these clandestine retainers were essential, serving as both hidden enforcers and tools for carrying out unspeakable tasks.
The way these intruders fought raised a troubling question—was there a noble family involved in this so-called rebel attack?
Sōjun and Ginjirō exchanged a glance, an uneasy feeling settling over them.
The last time they had been attacked, they had nearly been wiped out. Their wounds had yet to fully heal.
Had it not been for Masatsuki Aozaki and Yoruichi Shihōin, Sōjun would have died in that rebellion suppression mission. He wouldn't have made it this far.
"Have there been similar attacks in other districts?" Sōjun asked, frowning.
Ginjirō shook his head. "Not sure. We haven't received any reports from other districts."
Sōjun exhaled slowly, his mind racing.
"If the other districts haven't been targeted, then the rebels' true objective may not be Shin'ō Academy."
"They went through all this trouble to divert the Gotei 13's attention toward the academy… but their real target could be right here in the Sixth District."
Ginjirō hesitated.
"But the Sixth District is where both the Second and Sixth Divisions are stationed. The Second Division has already been deployed to Shin'ō Academy."
"Could it be that their target is you again? If they send another Captain-level Shinigami, we'll be in serious trouble. We should hurry and find the Captain."
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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