Rip!
A very light yet sharp tearing sound rang out.
The cherry blossom storm filling the sky instantly froze, then scattered like falling petals.
Across Kuchiki Byakuya's chest, Rosse's seemingly casual slash had cut a huge wound so deep the bone could be seen.
Hot blood sprayed across the sky like a fountain, staining the powerless cherry blossoms falling from the air red.
"NII-SAMA!"
Seeing this, Kuchiki Rukia in the ruins below looked like she had been struck by lightning. She let out a shrill scream, stared with wide eyes, covered her mouth tightly, and tears instantly poured out.
Abarai Renji also shut his eyes in pain. His fists smashed hard into the ground, his face filled with unbearable grief and despair.
"So when standing before something absolutely unbeatable, and the temptation to keep surviving... the noble Kuchiki family still chose the most honorable death in the end?"
Rosse stood in midair and lightly flicked the blade in his hand.
Kuchiki Byakuya's hot blood slid down the cold edge of the sword, forming strings of glaring blood droplets that slowly fell from the sky and struck the faces of the trembling Soul Reapers below.
"I acknowledge this pride. I will remember the name of this family."
Along with Rosse's words, which sounded like an inscription on a grave, Kuchiki Byakuya's ruined body slowly fell from the sky like a drifting leaf.
At this moment, his chest had already been completely pierced through.
But even with blood covering his face, his expression remained solemn. Until death, he still carried the usual cold pride of the head of the Kuchiki family.
Only those eyes that had once been stern yet full of feeling were now forever closed.
Perhaps he had failed the innocent family members who depended on the Kuchiki family. Perhaps he had failed the expectations his grandfather once placed on him to continue the Kuchiki line.
But today, here, he used his life to wash away the shame of the nobles.
He had not betrayed the million years of glory of the family, nor the unyielding noble heart within himself.
His short and proud life had reached a perfect end.
"Nii-sama... Nii-sama!"
Kuchiki Rukia cried uncontrollably. She rushed forward desperately and caught Kuchiki Byakuya's gradually cooling body as it fell from the sky. She held him tightly in her arms and let out a cry filled with pain.
Abarai Renji also stumbled to his feet and ran over. Standing beside Byakuya's body, his eyes were red, his teeth clenched hard, his whole body shaking.
In this battle between gods that decided the survival of the world, fighters at their vice-captain level were too small and too powerless.
They were not even qualified to serve as cannon fodder. They could not change even the slightest part of the outcome.
They were willing to draw their swords to protect Soul Society and willing to hold onto their beliefs to the end.
But reality answered them in the cruelest way possible.
Against such overwhelming power, their determination changed nothing.
Belief? Before the absolute power of a god, the beliefs of the weak were completely useless.
Everyone present, whether it was the dead Kyoraku, Ukitake, Hirako, or those still alive, all had beliefs of their own.
But very few people could refine their beliefs to the limit like Kuchiki Byakuya and calmly walk toward death.
Not to mention using belief to compare with monsters like Rosse and Aizen, whose beliefs were already invincible. That was nothing but fantasy.
"Lord Rosse... you still haven't answered my question."
Amid Rukia's cries, Sasakibe Chojiro, who had remained standing at the very front, slowly raised his head again.
He did not turn to look at Kuchiki Byakuya lying in a pool of blood. He also did not mention Byakuya's earlier mockery of him for lowering himself, nor did he show any sadness over another's death.
He also held onto his own sense of honor. But he would never choose a proud death for the sake of reputation like Kuchiki Byakuya did.
He was already very old.
In truth, he was far older than Kuchiki Ginrei.
Through the long years, following Head Captain Yamamoto, he had already witnessed too many deaths and separations, and long since seen through those empty honors.
Compared to a short-lived glory that burned brightly and ended in a heroic death, this old body of his valued a humiliating but lasting inheritance more.
He did not want everything Head Captain Yamamoto built with his life's work to vanish completely because of today's defeat.
Even if he had to survive like a dog, even if he had to carry the eternal curse of betraying Soul Society, as long as he could live on as a sinner in history, it was still ten thousand times better than watching every trace proving Head Captain Yamamoto once existed in this world disappear forever.
At the very least... as long as the structure of the Gotei 13 still existed, that would remain the clearest trace Head Captain Yamamoto left behind.
Even if they were forced to go to another unfamiliar world in the future, as long as people remained alive, this history could still quietly continue.
If he also tried to act like a hero and died today, if Soul Society were truly shattered and scattered by Rosse today, and even the Gotei 13 completely collapsed and dissolved, then the names "Gotei 13" and "Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni" would be buried together with this world in nothingness, and nobody would ever remember them again.
He knew Head Captain Yamamoto would not want him to do this. He would probably curse him for being stubborn and call him a fool.
But no matter what, this was his choice, and the only meaning left in the rest of his life.
"So in order to pass down the traces of Head Captain Yamamoto, what are you willing to give up? What are you willing to do, Lord Sasakibe?", Rosse heard Sasakibe's plea.
He sheathed his sword and lowered himself slightly from the sky. Those unfathomable eyes looked at Sasakibe Chojiro, whose face was serious as he prepared to accept any judgment.
In truth, his world was very large, large enough to hold countless people.
He did not care about taking in a few defeated prisoners in the new world, nor did he care about preserving a piece of history from the old world.
Because every world he conquered and crushed would eventually become part of the greatest achievements beneath his throne, carved into his new world.
Even if Sasakibe Chojiro compromised today and completely preserved the history of Soul Society, the Gotei 13, and Head Captain Yamamoto, on the surface, it would seem like he was preserving traces of Head Captain Yamamoto's existence.
But in the eyes of others, would this history not also become proof of the old era's weakness, praising Rosse's unbeatable achievements from the opposite side?
So Rosse did not care about this kind of thing at all. He even welcomed it.
"As long as you show mercy..."
Sasakibe Chojiro took a deep breath and spoke firmly with an extremely serious expression, "I can do anything! I am willing to lead the survivors and fight wars for you. I am willing to serve you generation after generation! Or if you have no need for defeated soldiers like us, then I only ask that you leave behind a pure land. I am willing to go there and become nothing more than a nameless gravekeeper."
For the sake of inheritance, for preserving traces of Head Captain Yamamoto's existence, he was willing to do anything humiliating.
Even if Rosse ordered this old body of his back onto the battlefield as cannon fodder, or directly threw him into a laboratory as a test subject, he would not refuse.
Because until now, though he hated Rosse, he had to admit one fact.
At the very least, ever since Rosse appeared, no matter how cruel his methods were, he had never once broken a promise.
Sasakibe Chojiro was willing to gamble once and trust him. This was also the last and only method this remnant of the old era could think of to preserve anything.
"Not bad resolve."
Rosse looked down at Sasakibe Chojiro's determined eyes and nodded slightly. A satisfied smile appeared on his face.
"Although you made some laughable mistakes along the way, your trust in pursuing your goal at all costs, and your enduring belief, are still worthy of reward."
Then Rosse raised his head and looked past Sasakibe Chojiro toward the surviving First Division members trembling within the ruins behind him.
"A total of 147 people."
Rosse's voice was not loud, but every person heard it clearly.
"These are the sparks you want to take away today and preserve. Right, Lord Sasakibe?"
Hearing those words, the surviving First Division members behind Sasakibe Chojiro suddenly raised their heads in confusion.
The First Division, as the leading division, had always been massive.
Even after countless deaths in the brutal battle earlier, there were still at least several thousand squad members alive among the ruins at a rough glance.
But Rosse did not say several thousand. Instead, with complete certainty, he gave the exact number, "147."
And it was so exact that it sounded as though he had already seen through something.
Hearing that strange number, all the surviving captains and squad members present looked at Rosse in surprise.
At the same time, as if thinking of something horrifying, part of the crowd turned together to look at Sasakibe Chojiro standing at the front.
Sasakibe Chojiro also froze slightly.
Then his heart trembled.
He quickly turned around and closed his eyes.
Releasing the senses he had restrained for years, he carefully spread his spiritual pressure across the several thousand surviving squad members behind him and rapidly scanned through them.
The First Division still had nearly ten thousand members in total.
Several thousand had followed them here. Though over half had died, several thousand still remained. But Sasakibe Chojiro understood better than anyone else.
Among those nearly ten thousand people, the ones who truly admired Head Captain Yamamoto from the bottom of their hearts, who were willing to stand guard for him in a hopeless situation like today, who were willing to preserve his beliefs and traces at any cost, there were actually very few.
Every fluctuation of spiritual pressure from those absolutely loyal veterans was deeply engraved into Sasakibe's memory.
The First Division was Head Captain Yamamoto's life's work.
For a thousand years, as vice-captain, Sasakibe had carefully learned and recorded every person's name, personality, and background within the division.
Those young Soul Reapers who joined the First Division after Rosse took power because of convenience or blind trends were not included in what Sasakibe wished to preserve.
Because they had no faith.
And if they did have faith, then it was in Rosse, the one who brought them into the Gotei 13.
The ones who had truly followed Head Captain Yamamoto wholeheartedly all this time, whose beliefs would never change even if the world ended, were all old veterans who had quietly stayed within the First Division for hundreds of years.
"1, 2, 3... 10... 50... 100... 147!"
Sasakibe silently counted those familiar spiritual pressure signatures in his mind.
When the final familiar spiritual pressure was confirmed, Sasakibe Chojiro suddenly opened his eyes. His body turned cold and froze in place.
He confirmed it.
The Soul Reapers who possessed absolute loyalty and met his standards as sparks to preserve had survived the brutal battle just now in a total number of, 147 people.
Not one more.
Not one less.
And precisely because the number was so horrifyingly exact, not one more and not one less, it made Sasakibe Chojiro himself feel fear rising from deep within his soul.
He truly had not expected Rosse to understand the standards hidden in his own heart so clearly.
Especially since even he himself had not counted them yet, while Rosse had already spoken the number first.
Had the man before him truly surpassed everything he could understand and really become an omniscient, omnipotent god?
Deep inside, Sasakibe Chojiro gave birth to this terrifying question in complete despair.
Even the Soul King probably could not do this.
At this moment, the ability Rosse casually displayed was no longer just a matter of unbeatable combat power.
This power to instantly see through people's hearts was suffocating.
When it came to understanding human nature and controlling fate, they stubborn Soul Reapers were tens of thousands of miles behind Rosse.
They truly were a group of laughable ants...
"Lord Rosse! You are right. It really is... 147 people."
Sasakibe Chojiro swallowed hard. His voice was extremely dry.
He slowly turned around to face Rosse.
Then, under the disbelieving gazes of all the Soul Reapers, the current First Division captain, who had always been known for being rigid and serious, slowly bent the knees that had once stood straight and deeply knelt to the ground.
Under the setting sun, his figure looked especially bent and bleak.
"Let them live. This is the final request of this old body of mine. I hope your divine mercy is vast enough to grant it," He buried his head deeply into the dirt.
But if anyone could see his eyes, they would find that most of the sorrow inside them had already faded, replaced instead by genuine reverence toward Rosse.
Those willing to die today following Head Captain Yamamoto, those willing to preserve traces of him, in all of Seireitei, without exaggeration, aside from Sasakibe Chojiro himself, there was probably no second person who remembered every one of their names and spiritual signatures.
But even he himself could not possibly have confirmed the number 147 in an instant on such a chaotic battlefield just now.
Yet Rosse, an outsider, had done it with ease.
That only made Sasakibe feel even more powerless and amazed.
Even if the other side was the mortal enemy who destroyed everything they had, this ability alone was enough to make him cast aside all dignity and bow in worship.
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