The massive hexagram radiated a dazzling array of colors, illuminating the dark sky.
"Interesting."
Ren stood still, watching the vibrant beams of light surge toward him like an unstoppable tide. He didn't attempt to dodge; instead, his gaze remained fixed on the enormous hexagram floating above, his expression filled with intrigue.
Just as the colorful beams were about to envelop him, an endless surge of dark golden lightning erupted from his body.
"Thunder Armor!"
This was a new ability that Ren had developed after ascending to the rank of Adjuchas, refining his control over his thunder abilities to a whole new level.
With a sharp crackle, dark golden lightning surged across his form, merging seamlessly with the pale centipede-like armor already encasing his body. The fusion gave birth to a thunder-clad armor, pulsating with an overwhelming electrical force.
A relentless storm of lightning burst forth from Ren, colliding with the vibrant light and resisting its encroachment.
Below, Masahiro Osaki's ultimate technique had failed to break through. His expression darkened as he let out a long, furious roar, pouring every ounce of his Reiatsu into his attack. In response, the massive hexagram above shone even brighter.
However, it was all in vain.
The lightning radiating from Ren's armor stood as an impenetrable shield, rendering Masahiro's assault ineffective. Ren hadn't even moved—he merely stood there, letting his own power nullify the attack.
Meanwhile, Masahiro Osaki pushed his Bankai to its absolute limit, straining himself to the brink. Sweat poured down his face in thick beads as he desperately funneled his remaining strength into the hexagram.
"Die for me!" he roared, his voice filled with desperation and madness.
But Ren remained unimpressed. He stood atop a tree branch, yawning as though bored. Masahiro had been attacking him for nearly ten minutes now, yet he hadn't even managed to scratch Ren's defenses.
"Is that all a so-called captain-level Shinigami can do?" Ren muttered, disappointment flickering in his eyes.
Seeing that Masahiro had nothing more to offer, Ren decided he was done playing around.
He slowly unsheathed the Zanpakutō at his waist. A single swipe of his palm over the blade infused it with crackling dark golden lightning. Holding the weapon firmly in one hand, he swung it toward the massive hexagram in the sky.
"Collapse!"
With a single slash, the enormous hexagram was cleaved in two. Before it could even fully split apart, the thunderous energy embedded in Ren's strike detonated, shattering the hexagram into countless fragments.
"Gah!"
Masahiro Osaki coughed up a mouthful of blood, his entire body trembling. As the hexagram was obliterated, his own connection to it backfired—his face twisted in agony as blood trickled from his eyes, ears, and nose. He looked like a man on the verge of death.
"So, that is a Zanpakutō in your hands after all." Masahiro's eyes burned with disbelief as he glared at Ren. "I never expected a mere beast like you to wield a Shinigami's blade. How ridiculous!"
His lips curled into a scornful smirk. "You can imitate us all you like, but in the end, you're just a mockery. You'll never be a true Shinigami!"
He laughed hysterically, despite his pitiful state.
Ren, however, remained unfazed. His expression was calm, indifferent.
"A beaten dog barking nonsense," he remarked coldly.
Without hesitation, Ren raised a single finger. A Bala—a condensed sphere of destructive energy—shot toward Masahiro in an instant. Though Masahiro tried to evade, his battered body couldn't keep up. The Bala struck his leg, shattering the bone upon impact.
"Tch."
Ren descended from the tree, stepping toward Masahiro's crippled form. Looking down at him, watching the once-proud captain struggle on the ground like a wounded beast, Ren sneered.
"What now? Do you still think Shinigami are superior? Do you still see Hollows as lesser beings?"
Masahiro's eyes burned with fury, but his body was too weak to move.
"Your pride is meaningless." Ren's voice was like ice. "And as for your so-called 'Gods of Death'... I'm done with them."
Just as the words left his lips, a twisted grin crept onto Masahiro Osaki's bloodied face.
"Heh... got you."
With the last of his strength, he slammed his palms onto the ground.
"Mirror Shatter: Death Execution!"
The fragments of the hexagram, which had been scattered around, suddenly shot into the air, converging toward Ren like a tidal wave of blades.
But before they could touch him—
CRACK!
A single flash of lightning streaked through the battlefield.
Ren had already disappeared.
He reappeared several meters away, standing effortlessly as if he had never been in danger. His speed had far surpassed the limits of Masahiro's understanding.
"Impossible!" Masahiro gasped, his eyes wide with disbelief.
Ren had escaped his technique in an instant—moving at a speed beyond his comprehension.
Despite his shock, Masahiro forced himself to act. He clapped his hands together once more, commanding the shattered fragments to reform into the hexagram.
But this time, it was different.
The massive hexagram that took shape was riddled with deep cracks. Jagged, uneven edges marred its once-flawless surface. No matter how hard Masahiro tried to hold it together, the damage Ren had inflicted was irreversible.
His Bankai was permanently crippled.
Masahiro's chest rose and fell heavily. His body trembled, his vision blurred.
Ren simply stood there, shaking his head slightly.
"It's over."
"The trapped beast is still struggling!"
Ren exhaled softly as he slid his Zanpakutō back into its sheath. Then, without hesitation, he clenched his right fist, dark golden lightning crackling violently around it. In a single motion, he surged forward toward the tattered hexagram and struck it with overwhelming force.
"Collapse!"
A series of sharp, splintering cracks echoed through the battlefield. The already fragile hexagram shattered instantly, disintegrating into a cloud of glowing dust that scattered into the wind, flickering like dying embers.
As the remnants of his Bankai faded into nothingness, Masahiro Osaki coughed up another mouthful of blood. His body trembled, his spiritual pressure nearly depleted. Yet, even in his broken state, his defiance did not waver.
He lay on the ground, barely able to support himself on trembling arms, but his eyes remained fierce—burning with unyielding hatred. If looks could kill, Ren would have been pierced through a thousand times over.
Then, gritting his teeth, Masahiro planted his left hand against the earth for support and raised his right toward Ren.
"The scattered beast bone spire, red crystal steel wheel, the wind halts, the air shatters—"
His voice wavered as he began chanting an incantation, yet his resolve did not break.
"—sound clashes and echoes through the void city!"
A violent blue arc of lightning crackled to life in his outstretched palm.
"Hadō 63—Raikōhō!"
The Thunder Roar Cannon burst forth, a massive bolt of blue lightning tearing through the air, aimed directly at Ren.
But Ren did not move.
He spread his arms wide, welcoming the attack head-on. The bolt of lightning struck his body—but instead of dealing damage, it was instantly absorbed. The golden currents of electricity that coated Ren's form crackled in response, consuming the foreign energy like a raging sea swallowing a mere drop of rain.
He hadn't even activated Thunder Armor.
Ren scoffed. "You really thought you could harm me with thunder?" His tone dripped with disdain. "How foolish."
Masahiro Osaki remained kneeling, his body completely spent. That attack had been the last of his Reiatsu, his final gambit—yet it had accomplished nothing.
His lips twisted into a bitter sneer. "Damn you... Sooner or later, someone will erase you all... You monsters..."
His voice was weak, but his hatred was clear. With no strength left to fight, all he could do now was hurl curses at Ren.
Ren, however, remained unimpressed.
"Is that the best you have for your final words? How pathetic."
Without hesitation, he raised his hand like a blade and swung down.
A single stroke—swift, effortless.
Masahiro Osaki's head separated cleanly from his shoulders, his body collapsing lifelessly onto the ground.
Silence fell over the battlefield.
Ren glanced down at the corpse, then spat dismissively beside it. "So this was a captain-level opponent? What a joke."
The pressure Masahiro had exuded was nothing compared to that of the one-eyed swordsman who fought with his blindfold removed. By comparison, this so-called captain was barely worth acknowledging.
Perhaps, in the Hollow Realm, where Aizen had yet to conduct large-scale experiments on the Arrancars, Masahiro could have lived as an untouchable force—capable of dominating most opponents he encountered.
But fate had been unkind.
The moment he crossed paths with Ren, his end had already been decided.
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