Chapter 391: I Annihilate the Great Path!
Recently, hell had become the Soul Society's training ground.
Large numbers of Shinigami came to hell in batches through the special passage constructed by the Luzhinomiya family for training and cultivation.
Most Shinigami had little sense of time.
They were like elves in Western fantasy works - long-lived and skilled at slacking off.
In the original work, before Aizen's betrayal, captains often went dozens or even hundreds of years without significant changes in their strength.
However, after Aizen's defection, the captains' strength underwent a qualitative transformation in just one year.
The Thousand-Year Blood War arc goes without saying—after being thoroughly schooled by the Quincies, the Shinigami's power levels universally rose a significant notch in just a few days.
What Satoru is doing now is forcibly motivating these slackers through compulsory measures.
As for how to motivate them...
Looking down at the training ground beneath his feet, Satoru grinned.
In Hell, the intense miasma and unique Reiatsu caused all Shinigami to feel severe pain.
Everyone he had brought here was now sorted by Reiatsu level and placed in different training grounds.
The areas were covered by massive transparent domes, isolating them from Hell's miasma outside.
Depending on the strength range of the Shinigami inside, the domes would open to varying degrees, allowing some miasma to seep in.
The level of miasma let in was deliberately set just slightly beyond what the Shinigami inside could endure.
To avoid being overwhelmed by the miasma and losing face in front of everyone, they had to push themselves and break through their limits.
All Shinigami are elites among ordinary souls, one in ten thousand.
Though they might be mere cannon fodder in major events, no one wants to be the one dragging the team down!
At this moment, all participating Shinigami were struggling inside the transparent domes, squeezing out every last bit of their Reiatsu to resist Hell's power.
Beside Satoru, several Shinigami from the Luzhinomiya family wore subtle expressions.
For millions of years, they had been responsible for monitoring Hell.
But even with their extensive experience dealing with Hell, contact still carried unpredictable risks.
Yet here was Captain Mikami—not only not avoiding Hell, but turning it into a training ground.
Do you have any respect for deadly peril at all?
Though they wanted to complain, they had to admit they were quite pleased with Satoru's approach.
The observable range of Hell now far exceeded the past.
With numerous Shinigami stationed there, any unusual situations could be detected much earlier than before.
When dealing with Hell's unknowns, time often determines whether a problem can be successfully handled.
Toward Satoru, the man who personally ended the noble era, the Luzhinomiya family held no resentment—instead, their favorability kept rising.
...
...
The powerful individuals Satoru rescued from Hell underwent simple classification and screening. Most were forcibly dissolved and sent for reincarnation.
The few deemed worth keeping were assigned to various departments to utilize their valuable remaining potential.
Those skilled in teaching were sent to Shin'ō Academy.
Those adept at research were assigned to assist at the Mikami Technical Bureau.
Those with management skills were sent to help the parliament.
Eventually, as time passed, these powerful individuals began experiencing situations similar to Katori Batsu'unsai.
On a sunny afternoon, Hell's guards gathered atop a scenic hill in Rukongai.
After taking one final look at the Soul Society they loved, they would undergo Satoru's high-density Reishi purification procedure and depart for reincarnation.
They felt no fear toward reincarnation.
Rather, compared to serving as guards in Hell, reincarnation was the ultimate blessing.
However, even understanding this point, the idea of abandoning memories spanning hundreds or even thousands of years to become someone completely different from their past selves still carried a certain psychological burden.
A considerable number of people arrived with rather complicated feelings.
But upon reaching the mountaintop, everyone froze.
Unbeknownst to them, the area had already gathered numerous figures.
Satoru, Yamamoto Shigekuni, various division captains...
Countless Shinigami.
Even many ordinary souls were present as well.
Everyone was seated on the ground, with wine and food laid out before them.
Seeing the newcomers, Satoru grinned and raised his hand:
"Yo! Seniors! You've worked hard these past days!"
"Finally time to send you off on your journey!"
The crowd: "..."
Holding a wine bowl, Satoru let out a hearty laugh:
"Come now! Raise your wine! Eat the meat!"
"The banquet begins!!"
Watching Satoru's boisterous laughter, the crowd exchanged glances, showing expressions caught between amusement and resignation.
Though many among them had already begun losing their memories and mental clarity... what kind of awareness is really needed for a banquet anyway?
Amidst the cheerful laughter, these Shinigami gradually joined the festivities.
Satoru moved through the crowd with his wine bowl and large flask, clinking vessels with everyone, drinking heartily, and singing loudly.
As the drinking continued, whenever he encountered someone who had completely lost consciousness, he would smilingly extend his hand to purify them, sending them into the cycle of reincarnation.
Gradually, these guardians of hell transformed into particles of light, dissipating into the sky.
The captains of the original Thirteen Divisions gathered around Yamamoto and Retsu Unohana, offering their final blessings with smiles before drinking their last wine.
Kenpachi Kuruyashiki roared loudly, delivering his final encouragement to the members of the Eleventh Division.
With Satoru's final gesture, all the deceased entered the cycle of reincarnation.
Shunsui Kyōraku held his wine bowl and looked up at the sky.
There, blue particles of light converged into a shimmering river, swirling and surging above the banquet site.
Finally, gathered together, they soared into the clouds and vanished from sight.
He raised his hand and slightly lowered his straw hat.
A flower petal drifted down from above, moistening the wine in his bowl.
From this moment on, the captains' inextricable bond with hell officially came to an end.
A new era had arrived.
He looked toward Satoru, who stood in the center of the crowd arguing with Seinosuke Yamada, and a smile touched the corners of his lips.
Yes, the name of this new era was Satoru.
...
...
"I'm starving!!!"
First Division, dojo.
The new era... oh. Satoru was sent flying back violently, letting out a humiliating sound as he crashed to the ground.
Looking at Satoru lying on the ground, Yamamoto panted heavily, revealing a triumphant smile.
"Hah! Brat! You're still far from being able to defeat this old man!"
Satoru climbed to his feet, grinning at the muscular old man drenched in sweat before him.
"Not bad, I'd say I'm getting pretty close."
On his body, there wasn't even a trace of injury, let alone much sweat.
Hearing Satoru's words, Yamamoto also grinned.
This damn brat.
He put down the wooden sword in his hand and looked toward the wooden cane leaning against the wall not far away.
"Boy."
"Hmm?"
Satoru cheerfully ran over.
Looking at the young man standing beside him—who once only reached his chin but now stood considerably taller—Yamamoto slowly spoke:
"Use your full power and fight me seriously."
"This time, I won't hold back."
"You must not hold back either."
"Let this old man see how far you, my student, have come."
Hearing Yamamoto's words, Satoru showed a somewhat surprised expression.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But, looking into Yamamoto's eyes, he remained silent for a few seconds before simply nodding.
"I understand, teacher."
...
...
The night sky was ink-black, with a crescent moon hanging high.
On the boundless silver desert, Satoru and Yamamoto Shigekuni stood facing each other from a distance.
In the distance stood Shunsui Kyōraku, Jūshirō Ukitake, Sōsuke Aizen, Retsu Unohana, and Ichigo Kurosaki.
The first two were there as Yamamoto's students, required to witness this battle.
The latter three were simply present due to their strength and qualifications.
Under their watchful eyes, Yamamoto pressed his large hand down, and the wooden cane instantly turned to dust, revealing the Zanpakutō inside.
Swish!
Yamamoto drew his Zanpakutō.
Even in the dimly lit Hueco Mundo, his blade still emitted a terrifying glow.
The old man grinned, revealing a somewhat grim smile:
"Come, boy."
"I've been waiting for this day for a long time."
Satoru nodded.
He took a deep breath, his expression turning serious.
Yamamoto had told him to use his full power.
Therefore, he would not hold back.
Under Yamamoto's gaze, Satoru's eyes became incredibly determined.
"Bankai."
"Risō Jakumetsu, True Self Illumination!"
The moment his voice rang out, wings of the Courage Shield unfolded behind him, and his entire being accelerated to the extreme, instantly tearing through space to appear before Yamamoto Shigekuni—
"Bankai!!"
"Zanka no Tachi!!"
Facing Satoru, Yamamoto skipped Shikai entirely and directly activated his strongest state.
As Bankai completed, fierce flames erupted around his body!
Zanka no Tachi, West: Ennetsu Jigoku!
At this moment, the flaming cloak burning around him reached a temperature of fifteen million degrees!
Tungsten, the metal with the highest melting point, melts at 3,380 degrees and boils at 5,927 degrees.
The surface of the sun is 5,600 degrees.
The temperature at the epicenter of an atomic bomb explosion is 6,000 degrees.
Fifteen million degrees is the core temperature of the sun!
Yamamoto Shigekuni, clad in Ennetsu Jigoku, was the sun itself!!
Satoru's metal claws, before even making contact with Yamamoto, had already turned incandescent white, as if about to melt and disintegrate at any moment.
Yet, Satoru paid this no mind.
As the Reiatsu radiance flickered, the Dragon-Slaying Killer's intensity was amplified to an unimaginable level!
He coated the surface of his metal claws with a plating fused from his own Reiatsu, the Quincy's Blut Vene, and the artificial soul "Sanctuary"!
Clang! Clang! Clang!!!
The gleaming metal claws and the Enrakyōtō emitting faint smoke clashed over a dozen times in an instant.
At close range, feeling the heat of the ZnT's Shikai, Satoru's face burned fiercely.
Even though he had surpassed the limits of Shinigami and Hollow, becoming a Transcendent, facing the ZnT's Shikai still gave him the sensation that his life could be snatched away at any moment.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, he shifted his entire body to the right.
Whoosh!!!
Yamamoto's blade abruptly accelerated, slicing through the space he had just occupied and striking the sandy ground below.
Instantly, starting from Yamamoto, a stretch of desert over ten kilometers long, several meters wide, and of immeasurable depth completely vanished!
The desert, formed from the remains of deceased Hollows—sand grains even a Vasto Lorde's Cero couldn't melt—was instantly vaporized by that single strike, leaving no trace of its former existence!
Gazing at the vast, vanished desert, Satoru nodded slightly.
To counter his precognitive abilities, Yamamoto had brought out the best response.
The ZnT's Shikai, the Enrakyōtō.
The strongest spear and the strongest shield.
Even if Satoru knew what he would do, he couldn't breach that terrifying fifteen-million-degree defense or block that annihilating slash.
Against an ordinary foe, facing Yamamoto in this state would leave them utterly helpless.
But now, he was no longer an "ordinary foe."
Under Yamamoto's watchful gaze, Satoru charged forward once more.
This time, the aura emanating from him was entirely different from before.
He drew power from "himself" in parallel worlds, superimposing it onto his own in this world!
Double the innate physique, double the might, double the power!
An intense thrill made Satoru unable to suppress a grin.
Facing Yamamoto cloaked in his solar mantle, he threw a punch—
Quadruple·Ikotsu!!
Confronting Satoru's assault, Yamamoto's eyes blazed with fury as he gripped his sword with both hands and delivered a "deceptively simple" slash.
BOOM!!!!!
A terrifying explosion instantly devoured everything within a diameter of over ten kilometers.
Before the two collided, Kyōraku had already retreated with the spectators.
Even so, those caught in the aftermath were sent tumbling, covered in dust.
Kyōraku scrambled to his feet and looked toward the battlefield.
As he rose, his peripheral vision caught the youth named Ichigo Kurosaki getting up even faster than he did.
Or rather... this youth simply hadn't bothered to resist.
If he'd wanted to, he might not have needed to retreat at all, watching from up close...
With a tinge of awe, Kyōraku turned his gaze to the battlefield.
Amid the smoke, a pale white mask had somehow appeared on Satoru's face.
He grinned, offering Yamamoto an innocent smile.
One of his hands, charred to a crisp, crumbled into dust and dissipated into the air.
But a new hand regenerated instantly.
In contrast, Yamamoto was already breathing heavily.
The muscles in his sword-wielding arms had split from bearing the immense force, blood trickling out.
His garments had long since vanished without a trace.
Satoru didn't press the attack, merely watching Yamamoto calmly.
"Again!"
Yamamoto issued a challenge.
Satoru nodded.
He only needed to maintain his current state, fight for a few more minutes, and he could exhaust Yamamoto to secure final victory.
But he didn't choose that path.
Facing Yamamoto, who burned with ferocity and bared a savage grin like a demon, Satoru revealed a ferocious smile of his own.
From parallel worlds… he drew upon his power once again, merging it!
Triple Body - Asura-Faced Satoru!!
With his aura skyrocketing once more, Satoru charged before Yamamoto in an instant, carrying an overwhelming force that seemed capable of annihilating everything.
This single strike would grind the Great Dao to dust!!