The entire battlefield fell silent.
Like a dark horse charging into the center of the fray, Fujimiya Makoto had instantly seized everyone's attention with just a single sentence. Many male Shinigami even reflexively clutched their crotches in shared sympathy, their faces twisting in phantom pain.
Kimboshi Gonryutei adjusted his glasses with his middle finger, the lenses glinting ominously.
As expected of you, Fujimiya Makoto!
Effortlessly accomplishing what no one else could.
Truly worthy of being the talent Yamamoto Genryūsai has his eye on... Pfft.
Unfortunately, at this moment, Fujimiya Makoto had yet to realize the gravity of the situation. He wiped the dust from his lips with a heroic flourish.
Thirteenth-level Shunpo is no joke.
Whether it was because the previous gaps between levels were too small or because a "metamorphosis" of sorts occurred after the twelfth level, even though the only things added to his mind were experience and control over spiritual particles, movement, and burst sequences—with no actual special techniques—Fujimiya Makoto found that his Shunpo speed had more than doubled compared to before.
Even a suddenly ambushed Vasto Lorde hadn't been able to dodge.
If he had to compare it to a benchmark, it was probably on par with Yoruichi in her youth.
In contrast, his newly broken-through tenth-level Hakuda seemed slightly lackluster.
If he could have used the same spiritual pressure control from his Shunpo for an instantaneous burst during that kick, the damage would've been far greater.
Rustle—
Pale sand billowed into the air.
Szayelaporro Granz's gaze instinctively sharpened as it landed on Fujimiya Makoto, his voice hoarse with fury:
"You damn Shinigami! Are you some kind of pervert?!"
"Kicking someone there the first time we meet?!"
Fujimiya Makoto sneered. "Against a Vasto Lorde like you, who's committed countless atrocities, why should I bother with Shinigami honor?!"
"Besides, compared to me, you're the real freak here—hiding your mask in your pants!"
As if inspired by his words, the surrounding Shinigami, reminded of their comrades who had fallen to the poison gas, cast aside their moral qualms and embraced justice.
Many of them roared in support, cheering him on:
"That's right! Get him!"
"Kill him, Vice-Captain Fujimiya!"
"The only way to beat a pervert is with another pervert!"
"Go! You pervert!"
The chaotic shouts erupted from all directions.
Fujimiya Makoto, standing at the forefront, turned green.
Can't you guys say something nice about me for once?!
Was it my fault I kicked him there?!
His mask was hidden there to begin with!
(Though, admittedly, he had guessed.)
But the later split version of "Szayelaporro" had his Hollow hole right on his nipple, and his abilities were related to reproduction—naturally, it led to certain assumptions!
Szayelaporro, however, didn't know his thought process and assumed this guy had some kind of special ability.
"This is... troublesome."
His gaze swept over the group before him.
Kimboshi, Kaname, Fujimiya.
Each of these three possessed strength rivaling a Vasto Lorde.
If he went all out, using all the research products he'd developed over the years, he could theoretically trade his life for theirs—but the risk was far too great.
Hueco Mundo was no place for sentimentality.
Whether it was his superior Baraggan or the experimental subjects and subordinates beneath him, they were all eyeing his body—literally.
No Adjuchas could resist the temptation of devouring a Vasto Lorde if given the chance.
"But the Soul Society truly is thriving."
Szayelaporro studied the group before him, smirking. "Hey, Shinigami. Which noble families are you from?"
"Since when could the Soul Society produce so many powerful fighters at once?"
Kimboshi Gonryutei and Kaname Tōsen both glanced at Fujimiya Makoto, who stood at the forefront.
The figure clad in a pure white half-kimono took a step forward, his voice cold.
"The era of noble politics is over."
"Now, we are... the Gotei 13's Hueco Mundo Expeditionary Force!"
As Yamamoto's secretly designated successor, Fujimiya Makoto—pervert though he was—was undoubtedly the most qualified person present to answer that question.
"Remember this, Hollow."
Szayelaporro's expression grew solemn as he studied their uniforms, as if suddenly understanding something. He chuckled darkly.
"Thirteen divisions... huh?"
"How interesting."
The moment his words fell, a deep purple figure suddenly flashed past him from behind.
"Got you!"
The blade carved a bloody arc through the air, slicing straight through his waist—right where his mask was hidden.
Saitō, her one-eyed, delicate face twisted into a vicious grin, seemed triumphant.
But then—
Boom!
The body she had just cleaved apart exploded like a punctured balloon, releasing a deafening blast.
Black mist surged outward in all directions.
At the same time, Szayelaporro's mocking voice rang out:
"Surprise!"
"Welcome to Las Noches, Gotei 13!"
"I look forward to seeing you all in my alchemy lab someday."
The moment Fujimiya Makoto saw the black mist, his pupils constricted. He immediately bellowed at Saitō and the surrounding Shinigami:
"Everyone, scatter!!"
"Captain Kimboshi!"
Without needing to be told, Kimboshi Gonryutei had already Shunpo'd to the front line, his blade slashing toward the oncoming tide of black mist.
An invisible fissure split the space in front of the mist.
The middle-aged man, who looked eerily like a kindergarten principal, widened his eyes and raised his voice:
"Fuhagen—Hyakujō Shinkirō!"
In the next instant, the faintly distorted fissure expanded into a thick, black, writhing line.
At the same time, an immense gravitational force erupted from it, pulling the black mist toward the void like a raging current. Countless grains of pale sand—along with what seemed to be countless miniature Hollows—were sucked in alongside it.
By the time the black mist had been completely swallowed, all that remained was a straight, kilometers-long path of nothingness, leading deeper into the sands below.
The collapsing dunes followed the pull of gravity.
Only then did Kimboshi raise his voice in warning:
"Everyone—retreat!"