Chapter 84: Rukia's Super Evolution and the Tribulation of the Three Worlds' Fall
Since being "piloted" by the Hogyoku as Unit-01, Rukia had not encountered a worthy opponent for far too long. Ordinary Soul Reapers and Hollows were not even worth a single exchange.
Therefore, this was the first time she truly felt what it was like for the Hogyoku to operate at full capacity!
Under the hot-blooded roar of the Hogyoku, the sensation of every cell in her body being manically squeezed and converted into raw power was, frankly, agonizing. But the effect was undeniable; under the Hogyoku's authority to rewrite reality, Rukia's power was skyrocketing at an absurd rate.
In the blink of an eye, Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto could no longer handle her with a casual single hand.
"Excellent. This has given me a bit of motivation. Let me show you what I am truly capable of!"
With that, Yamamoto extended his second "hand."
During the legendary battle with Ichigo Kurosaki, under that heaven-swallowing Heavenly Fist, Yamamoto had lost an arm. Even after attaining the ultimate realization of Purity and mastering the divine technique of Reishi Recomposition, that lost arm had failed to reform.
At first, Yamamoto thought his mastery of Reishi Recomposition was simply insufficient. But during the high-purity brawl with the Soul King, Mo Yu, his mastery reached perfection through the burning of his Purity. He had reconstructed his body from molecular dust time and again, yet that specific arm remained missing. Even after falling into Hell, the limb was still gone.
Finally, Yamamoto understood how terrifying the "Burnout" Heavenly Fist truly was. It was a peerless punch capable of devouring concepts. His left arm had been erased at the root of his soul, as if he had been born with only one hand.
It was a troublesome situation, but for Yamamoto, not an unsolvable one. If the concept of a left arm was devoured, he didn't need to struggle for its revival—he would simply forge a new one and plug it in. His old philosophy of "victory by any means" influenced him even now!
How to do it? To a high-purity Martial Artist, there is only one answer.
Driven by extreme will, with Purity as the bone, Battle Intent as the meridians, and Flame as the flesh, a brand-new left arm was sculpted. However, perhaps because it was Yamamoto's first time doing such a thing, or because he was naturally skilled in ink wash painting, the arm followed a "freehand" style. It didn't look like a human limb; rather, it resembled a rough, flame-tentacle from a traditional painting—prioritizing spirit over form—and he even accidentally gave it three or four extra fingers.
But that didn't matter. The only factor Yamamoto considered was whether this hand was "POTENT" enough!
Rukia was the perfect test subject. The answer came instantly: a casual strike from that ink-wash flame tentacle made Rukia experience the true radiance of the Sun. A magnificent, cruel torrent of fire swallowed her whole.
Enveloped in boundless flames, feeling the heat that vaporized all things, Rukia felt no fear. She could still hear the hot-blooded roar of the Hogyoku within her.
"Rukia Unit-01! Is this your limit!? No, absolutely not! You, who are one in mind and body with the Great Hogyoku, cannot fall before I admit defeat! System Synchronization... CRANK IT UP FOR THE HOGYOKU, GODDAMMIT!!!"
As the pilot's "flesh-mecha," Rukia felt zero hot-bloodedness. In fact, she found the Hogyoku incredibly noisy. She wasn't an actual robot; what the hell was a "Synchronization Rate"...?
Just as the thought crossed her mind, a system interface suddenly popped up in her vision.
[Character Name: Rukia Kuchiki] [Class: God-Appointed and Personally-Piloted Combat Unit-01, Two-Winged Assistant Director Angel of Heaven Media, Human Load-Bearing Wall of the Fighting World, External Core Wetware of the Hogyoku Server...] [Skills: Strong LV99 (Derivatives folded), Meditation LV99 (Derivatives folded), Hogyoku-Style Taijutsu LV66, Purity LV70, Noble Lady-Style Flower Arrangement LV18 (Mutated into Martial Art: Brutal Flesh Flower Arrangement LV18)...] [Attributes: HP 9999 (Locked via Reishi Recomposition), Energy 9999/???? (Data corrupted due to Hell-Possession), ??? (Non-Hogyoku stat, suspected Hell-Possession origin, value/meaning unknown)] [Equipment: Kuchiki Family Refined Lady Outfit x1 (+10% Charisma, 0 Combat Value)] [Character Lore: A girl graced by God's glory who transformed into an Angel. She resolutely cast aside everything—even falling into the Hell of Social Death—to view the proclamation of God's glory as her life's singular path.]
The interface previously seen only by Mo Yu was now displayed to Rukia via the Hogyoku. Looking at it, Rukia had so many complaints she didn't know where to start. But what shocked her more was a new skill emerging in the bar:
[Pilot/Mecha Synchronization Rate: 0%]
In the next heartbeat, the number jumped to 5%! And it didn't stop there. Her character lore began to rewrite itself:
[Character Lore: ...And in this process, to maintain the Love and Justice of the Fighting World, she formed a bond of hot-blooded friendship as a flesh-mecha with her pilot, the Hogyoku, working tirelessly toward a glorious future where all heretics are blasted to dust.]
"Hey, Hogyoku! Stop changing people's skills and lore! My character is already weird enough, don't push me toward being a gag character...!" Rukia screamed internally.
But the Hogyoku ignored her. To uphold its glory as the Supreme Justice, it manically dumped "points" into the Synchronization skill. When it broke 10%, an anomaly occurred: the skin on Rukia's forehead split open, and the crystalline Hogyoku embedded itself there like a Third Eye, gazing upon the world.
The moment the eye appeared, Rukia felt a strange sensation of evolution. Bizarre hallucinations flashed by: she saw Aizen transforming into a giant moth, then a deformed monster—designs far more grotesque than her "Demon Muscle Man" form.
She heard the Hogyoku's whisper—or rather, its will flowed into her heart as her own thought. The Hogyoku said that when God "piloted" her, He left traces of information behind, including the possibility of Aizen's fusion evolution from parallel timelines. This Hogyoku felt that although it wasn't that specific Hogyoku, the direction was solid. In this crisis, it decided to launch the project immediately!
The "Synchronization Rate" was the process of fusion and modification.
Rukia felt it was absurd. If you want to copy a parallel timeline, go find Aizen! Why start a project on me!?
But the irritation didn't last. Under Hell's influence, she soon felt it didn't matter. A few more stages of transformation? Fine. She had already "socially died" as the Demon Muscle Man; looking like a monster was a small price to pay, because in the end, nothing had meaning anyway.
This nihilistic gloom was short-lived as well. Under the Hogyoku's roar, the "Rukia Unit-01 Overhaul Project" proceeded in full swing. Extreme emotions flowed from the Hogyoku into her heart. Rukia felt as if she had been injected with adrenaline, wanting only to fight a battle of life and death without regret!
The Hogyoku and Hell took turns asserting themselves, forcing Rukia's psyche to perform "sit-ups" between a Spiritual Lunatic and a Hell Salted-Fish!
The battle raged on. Yamamoto felt the chaos within Rukia.
In her Hogyoku state, Rukia was hyper-aggressive. Bone-like fluid covered her body like a cocoon or armor, brewing strange mutations—she even developed a specific resistance to fire. In her Hell state, her frost power became eerily terrifying, covering the battlefield and making Yamamoto feel sluggish.
Yamamoto found the changes strange but didn't go all out to crush her. He acted like a man boiling a frog, slowly increasing his Absolute Realm output to match her. It was a "mistake" in combat logic, but he allowed it. He had fought too many battles driven by duty and the need for victory. This first fight of his "Hell Startup" was something he wanted to be more self-indulgent with.
Rukia wasn't "potent" enough yet. Only when she reached her zenith would the Ghost King truly ignite his blood and devour his foe.
However, Yamamoto's experience was too vast. Even his "mistakes" applied the perfect amount of pressure to keep Rukia at her limit. Stimulated, the Hogyoku roared manically, using its Purity to perform an "on-the-fly" overhaul of Rukia's body, boosting the synchronization!
Hell did not back down. Silently, the erosion deepened. The void of bewilderment condensed into stronger frost.
Rukia, caught in the middle, occasionally regained clarity. She wasn't mad; she was confused. She understood the Hogyoku wanting to fight Yamamoto, but why did the Shadow of Hell, which manifested as a "salted fish," harbor such intense killing intent toward the old man?
As synchronization improved, she gained the Hogyoku's "senses." The Hogyoku could read the conscious and subconscious minds of all life, and Rukia now shared this ability. She read the consciousness of Hell through the erosion.
Then, she understood. If the Chaos World was Yang and Positive, Hell was inherently Yin and Negative. This manifested in its evolution. If Chaos evolved a forest, it was a growing ecosystem that spread life. If Hell evolved a forest, it was a vortex collapsing inward—its existence was to pull everything in to be devoured and erased.
Every tangible existence faced Hell's malice, but a powerhouse like Yamamoto faced its Deepest Hatred.
Reading further, Rukia realized Hell wasn't "possessing" her. The nihilism and bewilderment weren't an invasion from Hell; they were a part of her own heart that Hell had activated. That "Salted-Fish" was her. Her killing intent toward Yamamoto was her own derivation. Hell's malice merely pushed Rukia in front of him.
Rukia fell silent. It made sense. Ever since she was forced to kill Kaien Shiba, she had carried a heavy guilt. She seemed to move on, but deep down, her heart was frozen in that moment. Within that void was a desire for destruction—of others or herself. To put it in modern terms: "I'm tired. Let everything be destroyed."
But that wasn't the only reason for her silence. She read the Hogyoku back and found that its "Hot-Blooded Personality" was also a piece of her own heart—a fragment the Hogyoku had carved out of her to better understand Mo Yu's instructions. That "Demon Muscle Man" was her too.
Rukia refused to accept this. A mutated appearance was one thing, but that "macho" persona? It has nothing to do with this refined lady! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!!!
Knowing this didn't help her current situation. Being a "Spiritual Lunatic" or a "Hell Salted-Fish" were both valid career paths, but switching between them manically was a problem. She had to choose.
"Hogyoku! The test of our bond is here! Forget Aizen's moth-transformation from that parallel timeline! Follow me and evolve toward the One True Direction!"
Rukia channeled her will into the Hogyoku. The Hogyoku responded heroically—as long as it was strong and potent, it didn't care which direction they evolved!
Rukia closed her eyes. When they opened, a brilliant pale blue light erupted from her pupils! The bone-white cocoon armor shattered, transforming into a dress of pure Purity. Huge wings of ice crystals, like a butterfly's, sprouted from her back. Crimson veins spread across her skin. Her eyes were a convergence of pale blue and blood-red—cold, elegant, and eerie.
Synchronization: 15%. Phase One was over. Phase Two began!
In this stage, her Absolute Realm power mutated. It merged with the frost of Hell, deriving the essence of Decay, Wither, and Destruction! This could be called the Dark Absolute Realm, witnessing her deeper assimilation with Hell.
She now understood her path to becoming the King of Hell. Hell is negative; everything it produces is for torment. To rule it, one must first merge with it. She would become a humanoid natural disaster, delivering the ultimate destruction. Her "Dark Absolute Realm" punches embodied this: freezing everything in meaningless cold to be ground away by eons of time.
Hell was excited by her choice. Thick miasma swirled around her, buffing her and pushing her power toward Ultimate Darkness. Hell needed a good "employee"—an efficient digestive bacteria to help grind down the powerhouses it had swallowed. This was why it craved the Soul King; His efficiency in slaying ancient Menos was something Hell coveted.
"Good! Waiting was worth it. Every potent battle makes my heart feel truly alive."
Yamamoto grew excited. His output climbed.
As is tradition in the fighting world, every major battle attracts an audience. Aizen, boasting the highest attendance rate, arrived on time.
"I didn't expect to see so many familiar faces in Hell so soon," Aizen noted. Standing on a mountain of blades that had been rolling endlessly, he found the landscape frozen still just by his presence. "So, Rukia's change is the fusion-evolution with the Hogyoku? It differs from my theoretical data..."
He evaluated her. "As expected, the Hogyoku's Purity is too low. The evolved form is a bit ugly. Discarding it to carve my own path was indeed the correct choice."
Aizen's scientific mind noted the Dark Absolute Realm and the whispers of Ultimate Darkness. Since the Three Worlds were gone, "Three Worlds Ultimacy" had no anchor. To reach a higher level, one had to adapt to the local "Hell" system. Yamamoto had clearly realized this too.
Aizen watched for a moment, then looked up at the sky. He knew the Soul King would head to the Living World for the final showdown. He lamented missing that fight, but knew that regardless of the winner, the loser would soon appear in Hell. An even more explosive battle was inevitable.
He didn't expect it to happen this fast.
Suddenly, all of Hell shuddered with a roar of infinite ecstasy. An invisible wave of joy swept through the realm—the first time in a million years a feeling other than pain had reigned. Even the mindless corpses seemed to regain a shred of sanity. Every resident felt it: after a million years of gnawing, Hell had finally overtaken the Three Worlds. The feast was beginning.
But in the next instant, the joy vanished, replaced by a wail of agony.
Every resident looked up. The sky turned pitch black. From beyond the heavens, the boundless Three Worlds—wrapped in roaring flames—were falling toward Hell at terminal velocity.
Hope and despair are often separated by a thin line. Hell felt this deeply. Just as it opened its mouth to take a bite, a certain peerless "Macho-Man" had thrown a world-shaking punch, delivering the entire meal straight to its stomach without any chewing or swallowing required.
The taste was... sufficiently potent.
End of Chapter
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