Chapter 77: The Setting of the Crimson Sun
What happened next was a session of extremely high-purity mutual pummeling!
But precisely because the Purity was too high, it was impossible for anyone to even watch. All the Captains could perceive was either an overwhelming glare of Reishi or a sky-blotting dark-red inferno. Beyond that, they sensed nothing.
Most of the time, these Captains could only run for their lives, struggling to withstand the shockwaves generated by the collision of these two forces!
Even the mere aftershocks could only be described as "world-shakingly strong." The explosions caused by energy clashing were crushed by the force of fist-on-fist impact before they could even bloom; then, the compressed blasts would detonate again, only to be crushed once more. This cycle turned the center of the battlefield into an indescribably complex energy reaction—a radiance more intense than any "light pollution," illuminating heaven and earth!
Common sense had been completely discarded by both combatants. The only thing left to do was to grit their teeth and swing their fists—over and over and over again. Both sides had completely abandoned defense in favor of a brutal, flesh-on-flesh brawl.
From the outside, every inch of Captain-Commander Yamamoto's skin had turned charred and black. Glowing lines—indistinguishable as either energy meridians or wounds—spread across his body, radiating a dull dark-red light like cooling magma. His eyes no longer showed whites or pupils, only a solid, vivid crimson. His long white beard had been incinerated to ash, replaced by a flowing beard of pure flame.
His aged yet powerful frame stood ramrod straight. Whenever a punch from the Soul King landed, the skin and flesh at the point of impact were instantly vaporized. However, the matchless fire contained within his body would geyser out like a solar prominence ejection.
It was no longer mere fire, but high-energy plasma rays formed under extreme heat, reaching temperatures in the millions of degrees. Anyone else would have been reduced to atoms by the counterattack of these plasma rays even if they managed to wound Yamamoto. Furthermore, even if one survived the blast, they would realize with horror that this surge of high-energy plasma was actually reconstructing the Commander's flesh and skin!
Through matchless Purity, Yamamoto had thoroughly integrated the ultimate Bankai mode of Zanka no Tachi into his body and soul, evolving into the Remnant Flame War-Body. While it seemed like a lateral shift in power systems rather than a breakthrough in realm, Yamamoto's combat power was skyrocketing.
Absolute Realm 70%? 80%? At this moment, what Yamamoto erupted with was far beyond such shallow measurements!
His conviction and will were an ultimate eruption that discarded life and death. His power was manically racing toward the strongest, most perfect state imaginable! Every punch he threw was a charge at a level above 90% Absolute Realm!
The most direct proof was his superior control. The War-Body was operating with majestic power, yet its environmental impact was far less than when he used Zanka no Tachi as a sword—which threatened the city just by existing. Now, only at the instant of impact did he reveal the terrifying majesty capable of upending the climate and geography of the Three Worlds.
Then, by resonating his absolute Purity with the world's Purity, he leveraged the blessing of Heaven and Earth to sublimate a force called Ultimacy!
One could say that the Absolute Realm was his personal level, while Ultimacy was the actual combat power he erupted with; both existed and progressed together. All of this allowed Yamamoto to transcend the limits of a "Soul Reaper," transforming into a humanoid crimson sun manifested in the mortal realm. The various techniques of Zanka no Tachi had become his instincts; every punch was no longer mere strength, but a natural disaster destined to annihilate all!
The intensity of this disaster was felt with unparalleled depth by Mo Yu. The Soul King's vessel faithfully and perfectly transmitted every sensation to Mo Yu, sitting at his computer!
Scorching crimson heat filled all of Mo Yu's senses. The madness and destruction carried in those fists were so unforgettable that they couldn't be described as just "potent." It was... potent to the point where it felt like King Kong was forcibly finishing inside Ultraman atop the Empire State Building! It was so goddamn POTENT that it drove one to the brink of insanity!!!
In the searing agony, Mo Yu's thoughts became a bit chaotic, but that didn't matter. The important thing was that he felt it—he truly, deeply felt the will flowing from Yamamoto's fists. This exchange, which spanned from the 2D world to the 3D world through the medium of pain, allowed Mo Yu to realize that "communicating through fists" was actually a real thing!
"Because you can't let go, you are this mad. Because of your attachment, you rush headlong toward destruction. Old man, I've felt your protection and your hot-blooded spirit for the Soul Society! So, let this brawl between us be even more tragic!!!"
The Soul King's body perfectly reflected Mo Yu's thoughts. The "face-acting" grin on his face was twisted and fanatical. His eyes radiated an unparalleled divine majesty as he continued to swing his fists with heroic abandon.
He no longer bothered with techniques or "moves," for such things were essentially meaningless impurities to the Soul King who symbolized the world. One punch was equivalent to a thousand bolts of lightning striking simultaneously; another was as if the Earth grew legs and performed a "Tectonic Dragon Flip Kick!"
It was the power of the world itself, acting through the Soul King's body as fists to trade blows with Yamamoto. Of course, it wasn't a one-sided venting; the world was also buffing Yamamoto, helping him form his "Ultimacy" strikes. In a sense, the World was playing both sides of the fight.
The cost was catastrophic. The Soul Society wailed silently as space distorted, dismantled, and teetered on the brink of collapse. The survival of the Three Worlds rested on the Soul King; when He withdrew His power to fight, reality naturally began to fray.
This was what the Monk feared most: winning the war against the King meant losing the World. Yamamoto had feared it too, but he ultimately chose to discard all caution and gamble everything on a final stand as a remnant of the Old Era.
But now, in this intense brawl, Yamamoto began to understand the meaning of the Soul King's willingness to fall into Hell just to punch the mortal realm.
It was, essentially, a question! The Soul King was asking, and the World was asking by fighting itself:
The Chaos World has been split for a million years. What is the meaning? What was saved? What was destroyed? What was changed? In the end, for what purpose was any of it done?
The operation of the world follows established laws; what is born must perish. The man-made Three Worlds must eventually face their curtain call. Just as the moon rises and sets, the downward collapse of the world toward a "negative fall" is a natural law. The only thing that can resist this trend is the answer provided by life.
Because to change and transform nature is the instinct of sentient life!
Children of Man, the World has sent the Flood. How will you respond?
Question after question arrived through the impact of fists. No verbal answer was needed, for what the King and the World demanded was not a weak, hollow word, but a response forged from power and will.
As he grasped the meaning, even the iron-willed Yamamoto felt a moment of confusion. Because he didn't know how to answer.
Even the strongest Soul Reaper was fundamentally just a helpless man pushed by the tides of his era. Had it not been for the age of warring Nobles, the invincible Ghost King of the Soul Society might never have been born. He might have been a strong but non-supreme founder of a school, leaving a name in history only to be forgotten after a few millennia, like every other hero in a million-year timeline.
Yamamoto could not transcend time to answer from a million-year cosmic perspective; he could only seek the answer in his own past. What was the meaning of the Seireitei Order—the co-governance of Reapers and Nobles—that he had founded with ten thousand deaths and maintained for a thousand years?
The answer wasn't complex. The Genji School that vanished two thousand years ago explained everything. What forced Yamamoto Shigekuni to take the name Genryusai, pick up a blood-stained blade, and become a slaughtering demon was simply the desire for some people—or more people—to live, and to let the marks of the departed endure!
Even if it was an order built on compromise, as long as there was life and continuity, it was acceptable.
That answer was quickly tested through the clash of power.
Boundless darkness and shadows covered the sky, spreading from the Soul King's fist. With an eerie roar, it tore through the radiance of the Crimson Sun and pierced through Yamamoto's chest!
Mockery issued from the World and the Soul King's mouth:
"If it is only for survival and continuity... then survival and continuity in Hell are no different. So, why do you resist me...?"
A double-voice had emerged from the Soul King's vessel, and the second voice was filled with infinite hunger and malice. Instantly, endless Hell Miasma flowed from the Soul King's fist, greedily devouring and sucking the radiance of the Crimson Sun!
Hell is vast and boundless; it has room to bury a crimson sun and the "boring delusions" called conviction that the sun carries! This wasn't disdain; it was a description of fact. The Three Worlds had lasted a million years, but Hell had existed longer. In eons, it had swallowed countless such "convictions."
The miasma condensed and penetrated through the Soul King's fist, which remained buried in Yamamoto's chest. It transformed into countless fangs, gnawing at the Commander's soul and life-threads until it severed every connection he held with the Three Worlds!
Defeated!
This realization gradually filled Yamamoto's heart. His power was exhausted, his conviction had reached its peak, and the seemingly omnipotent Purity had reached its own limit. Everything he had traded for was now being thoroughly crushed head-on.
His fall was an indisputable result. Even Reishi Recomposition, capable of shattering fate, could not break the joint judgment handed down by the World and Hell through the Soul King!
Closing his eyes, Yamamoto uttered his life's final whisper:
"Genryusai..."
No one knew what his final thoughts were, for they didn't matter. Mo Yu suddenly turned his fist into a palm and gave a sharp swipe, slicing Yamamoto in half horizontally. This scene felt like the convergence of world lines, for in the original story, Yamamoto died the same way.
Mo Yu did not pause for a single second for Yamamoto's death, for the Soul King's eyes were already fixed on the other Captains and the Seireitei behind them.
Clench fist. Step. Forward!
The World's interrogation was presented through the Soul King's fists, and no living being could escape.
Grief and pain didn't linger long in the Captains' hearts, for they had to make the most difficult choice in the shortest time. Die a meaningless death, or retreat and preserve themselves for an opportunity?
The decision was made quickly. Captains who had grasped Purity, like Byakuya and Komamura, charged forward with the intent to die fighting, their battle intent and power increasing as they condensed their lives for one final bloom. Meanwhile, Shunsui Kyoraku grabbed the flattened skull of Toshiro Hitsugaya and retreated with Jushiro Ukitake!
Of course, they weren't the only ones making choices; the Lieutenants and officers followed. But they were too small. While the Captains fought, they could only wait for an opening; once Yamamoto had acted, they could do nothing but flee the shockwaves. Now, they were even more chaotic.
This chaos didn't last long. Within a few exchanges, Byakuya and Komamura were blasted into dust by Mo Yu, whose power had manically spiked following the stimulus of killing Yamamoto. There were no longer any Soul Reapers willing or able to block His path!
But then, a helpless whisper drifted from the Seireitei:
"My 'Father'... in your eyes, is this battle unavoidable?"
Unlike the original series, the Yhwach who had experienced "paternal love" lacked the heartless coldness he showed when stabbing the Soul King in the manga. Of course, that was also because the original King was a "salted fish" who didn't move, whereas the one standing outside the city now was a "Macho-King" with world-ending fists and 100% Purity-brain.
Mo Yu didn't deny the "Father" title, for in the laws of the world, that link was definitive. He smiled faintly:
"Remember what I said? If you want to achieve your grand ambition, Hell is the challenge you must overcome. As the saying goes, fulfilling a child's dream is a father's duty. So, I have specially brought Hell to you. How is it? Surprised? Delighted!?"
Yhwach sighed. "Not surprised. Not delighted. For I have long known your madness."
Mo Yu laughed. "Then what choice will you make?"
"Father... our battle should not be here, nor should it be now. Therefore, permit me to choose my own place of burial..."
Yhwach's decision was instant. Boundless shadows expanded, wrapping the entire Wandenreich and all Quincies within them. They transformed into a massive dark cloud and took to the sky, leaving the panicked Seireitei behind.
"True. A Quincy's burial ground shouldn't be the Soul Society. The World of the Living is where you belong!"
Mo Yu lowered his eyes, unconcerned by Yhwach's flight. He even chuckled. Having discussed the "Great Apocalypse Plan" together, Yhwach understood Mo Yu's logic: death at this moment did not mean true erasure; a "Correct Death" was simply the doorway to final victory.
For the final stage of the Three Worlds King of Fighters Tournament was not in the Three Worlds at all. It was in Hell!
Yamamoto had gone first. The others needed to be sent there one by one.
Mo Yu resumed his stride, heading straight for the Seireitei. He was in a good mood, his steps light. He even started humming a little tune, a smile on his face.
The million-year karma was finally being liquidated. Not only that, but the "list" he had compiled of people in the Seireitei was about to be checked off. How could he not be happy?
There was no room for rotten dregs on the Ark of the New Era! Only total purification awaited them!
End of Chapter
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