Chapter 83: The Hot-Blooded Roar of the Hogyoku
Death and rebirth—all in a single instant!
The last second of his memory was fixed on the scene of the Soul King blasting him into oblivion. The next second, when he opened his eyes again, the landscape of Hell filled his vision.
Accepting the fact that he was dead and had fallen into Hell didn't take Genryusai Shigekuni Yamamoto much time. On the contrary, it took quite a while to quell the searing battle intent and Purity burning within him, and the results weren't exactly ideal.
Having experienced a world-shaking battle as hearty as that one, even the cruel environment of Hell seemed far too "gentle" in Yamamoto's eyes. That mere hundred-degree temperature, with the occasional rain of several-thousand-degree fire, wasn't even fit for his bathwater.
The Sea of Boiling Oil? The Mountain Range of Blades? The Eerie Forests? Yamamoto simply walked through them, and all things vanished upon contact; they couldn't even draw near his body. As for the denizens of Hell? Most were the kind of dregs that a single glance was enough to incinerate completely—hardly worth mentioning.
After spending some time roughly scouting the surroundings, Genryusai fell into a long-lost state of bewilderment.
As a remnant of the Old Era, he was mentally prepared to be buried on the eve of the New Era's launch and had gracefully accepted the final result. But after falling into Hell, what could he do? Live on meaninglessly for eternity?
This bewilderment was so profound, it was like a shadow spreading across his heart. The Captain-Commander soon sensed something was wrong and let out a cold snort: "Is this the Darkness of Hell? Boring..."
His battle intent erupted, incinerating every bit of that shadow in an instant.
As the Commander who had governed the order of the Seireitei for a millennium, Yamamoto knew more about the secrets of Hell than most. Hell wasn't just "unique scenery" and "hospitable residents"; there existed a phenomenon known as "Hell's Dark Erosion."
It was a psychological phenomenon—a form of mental torture. Various negative emotions would unknowingly fill the hearts of Hell's sinners, gradually driving them toward total mental collapse. Trying to hide and evade the torment? The final result might be going mad faster than anyone else!
Whether it was the bewilderment and pain of the soul that allowed Hell to penetrate, or Hell's assimilation that created gaps in the soul, Yamamoto didn't know the causality yet—and he didn't need to. Hell was a place of supreme evil where endless suffering converged; even without the erosion, it would be hard to maintain a good mood.
Having experienced the erosion firsthand, Yamamoto didn't take it seriously, but he knew that a long defense inevitably leads to a lapse. Based on his character, he preferred the offensive. Therefore, he found something to do: he decided to let loose and run amok in Hell to keep his mindset "positive, optimistic, and upwardly mobile."
A terrifying force of 90% Absolute Realm erupted without reservation. The Crimson Sun flaunted its majesty across Hell. It announced that the Founding Ancestor of the Gotei 13, who had once built a vast empire, was now planning to "start a new business"!
Someone arrived quickly. Coincidentally, it was an old face he had killed during his conquest eons ago—someone who was considered quite a figure during the era of warring Nobles.
Seeing this old face, Yamamoto felt a brief moment of nostalgia; after all, assassinating this man back then had taken quite a bit of effort. But the nostalgia didn't last, because the old rival didn't even dare to approach. From a distance, he knelt on one knee.
"Yamamoto Shigekuni, King of all Soul Reapers... I wish to offer you my loyalty. I only beg you to swing your blade of roaring fire once more and thoroughly change this era!"
In his youth, starting a business required exhaustive effort and gambling his life. Now, as a retired senior starting a second venture, a single roar and showing his face was enough to stir the winds. Even former enemies licked their faces to cling to his leg. Yamamoto couldn't help but feel some sentiment, but he didn't dwell on it.
He gazed at the former enemy; the madness and pleading in the man's eyes were vivid. Yamamoto said flatly:
"I will promise you nothing. You only need to follow me closely and slay enemies as I do. At the end of the mountain of corpses and the sea of blood, everything awaits!"
Yamamoto didn't care if this former enemy was reliable. His original startup team—the first-generation Captains—were all "Great Evildoers" with mental issues. Those guys were sometimes more dangerous than the enemy. Yamamoto often had to sleep in secret spots with one eye open, fearing a Captain might sneak in and take his head at night. That was why he had left Yhwach with the impression of an extremely ruthless man who didn't value his subordinates' lives.
It wasn't that Yamamoto was naturally cruel; he just had no other choice. But eventually, after enough killing, the team gelled. The mental problems of those Captains were never really cured, but it didn't matter—because by the end, Yamamoto's own mental state was far more severe than theirs!
The terrifying Ghost King, who made the Soul Society tremble with his bloodlust, led a parade of a hundred demons to carve out an era! Now, it was just a repeat performance, and the foundation was much better than last time.
"Captain-Commander, it is a pleasure to see you again in Hell..."
As a subordinate of a thousand years, Retsu Unohana found him once more. Her smile lacked its former maternal gentleness, replaced by an unspeakable bloodlust and madness. Yamamoto raised an eyebrow. "You finally broke the seal?"
Unohana had reverted from her braided hairstyle to having her long hair flow freely to her waist. The wound she had always hidden was exposed: a deep, bone-chilling blade scar across her neck. Though it was an old injury, it was vivid red, as if blood had just been flowing from it.
She smiled. "Yes. While you were fighting the Soul King, I felt that world-shaking battle intent and couldn't restrain myself. I took Kenpachi Zaraki away to joyfully finish that battle we started long ago..."
There was no need to ask for the result, for a dark-faced Kenpachi Zaraki followed shortly after, grumbling as he walked:
"Dammit, that was too satisfying. I didn't expect us to take each other down... I haven't even felt the Soul King's fist yet... Bastard Fisher! Why can I still see you even in Hell? GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HEAD WITH YOUR CHRYSANTHEMUMS AND VASELINE! GO AS FAR AS YOUR THOUGHTS CAN TAKE YOU, AAARRGH!!!"
From the perspective of a Commander, Yamamoto was speechless. While he was fighting a supreme enemy, two of his strongest Captains snuck off to have a civil war and killed each other. But from the perspective of a retired senior starting a new business, he thought it was great. He knew Unohana shouldn't have been able to beat a monster like Kenpachi, so a mutual kill proved she had not only regained but surpassed her former self.
With such veterans joining him, Yamamoto was in high spirits.
"Unohana Yachiru, and Kenpachi Zaraki... I welcome your return to the squad. We'll hold the Captains' meeting later. For now, let me properly host our 'Distinguished Guest' from afar!"
Yamamoto turned his gaze toward the distance.
Rukia's graceful silhouette appeared, walking toward them step by step. Before she arrived, a terrifying force of frost swept forward. Yamamoto stood unmoved, his Remnant Flame energy blooming to counter the Absolute Zero chill.
"What is the meaning... of all this?"
The cold whisper had lost the warmth of a human. Yamamoto frowned. He saw that Rukia's eyes were filled with a pale blue light, like a glacier that had stood for ten thousand years. Deep within that glacier was a void of bewilderment!
Yamamoto immediately realized that the Dark Erosion Rukia was suffering was exceptionally severe—so severe it didn't match his records. Usually, the erosion starts with minor mental issues and progresses to total breakdown. Hell's malice ensures the victim wavers between madness and clarity to maximize agony.
At this stage, more madness leads to becoming a mindless corpse; more clarity leads to growing chains and becoming a Sinner. But eventually, the miasma erupts from within, leading to total distortion. Yamamoto knew the data from Mayuri's experiments on death-row inmates, but Rukia was different.
The Dark Erosion was merely a medium. A massive, invisible shadow stretched from the surrounding phenomena, merging with Rukia through that link! Currently, she looked normal, but to Yamamoto, she was a true "Monster." A vast shadow of Hell was inhabiting her, peering at the world through her eyes, thinking clunky thoughts through her brain, and declaring its will through her mouth.
Half-human, half... HELL!!!
"Little girl of the Kuchiki house... as the Muscle Queen who once bragged about creating a world of muscle-men to my face, is this all the Purity you have after falling to Hell?"
Yamamoto's tone was slightly contemptuous. To be assimilated by Hell to the point of losing her spirit meant her Purity as a Martial Artist was far too low!
The contempt seemed to trigger a reaction. A powerful will surfaced in Rukia's vacant eyes.
"Old man... before the Supreme Chief Justice of the Fighting World, the Demon Muscle Man, you must be humble. Otherwise, you shall face the final judgment of the Iron Fist... Forget it, humility doesn't matter. None of this has meaning anyway. Ah, living feels so... impotent..."
Stimulated by that will, Rukia regained a shred of clarity. She found herself speaking whispers of powerhouse arrogance while her body instinctively began to strike poses, as if she were about to transform and blast the old man with high-purity Muscle Light.
She knew this feeling. It was the same "lack of self-control" she felt when the Hogyoku inside her took over to recruit new "macho" members for the fighting world. In this moment, she realized that even though she had been blasted into dust by the Soul King, the Hogyoku had followed her to Hell.
But unlike before, just as the poses were halfway done, a cold, gray, meaningless will spread out, dragging her back into bewilderment.
Rukia realized then that Hell had been recruiting her. From the moment she fell, a high-intensity "Talent Acquisition Plan" had been underway, implemented so subtly she only noticed it now. Hell intended to "Nest in the Magpie's Place"—recruiting her via total possession.
The workplace in Hell is truly dark!
Regardless, caught between the will of the Hogyoku and the will of Hell, Rukia was in agony. Her regained clarity was threatening to sink again.
Watching her contradictory eyes and her "mental patient" speech patterns, Yamamoto frowned. Hell really could change a person; a perfectly good girl like Rukia had gone mad in no time!
"Kuchiki girl. If you submit to me, I will let bygones be bygones and grant you a seat in Hell's Seireitei. Otherwise, begone! Rats in the gutter are not fit to gaze upon the glory of the Seireitei."
Yamamoto's magnanimity was legendary; he didn't care if a talent was a mental patient as long as they weren't crazier than him.
Rukia's response was to suddenly clench her fists!
"KO-HU! Old man! If you wish to be King in Hell, you must first ask the Supreme Chief Justice! Otherwise, everything you do has NO MEANING, GODDAMMIT!!!"
In that instant, faced with Yamamoto's rudeness, the will of the Hogyoku and the will of Hell overlapped. Their internal conflict shifted to an "external front." Rukia seized this "opportunity"!
Her muscles swelled. The Demon Muscle Man reappeared. Hell's miasma transformed into pitch-black patterns spreading across her powerful frame.
Yamamoto suddenly laughed! The reason for the fight didn't matter. As long as battle intent was raised, there was a basis for combat. Having just finished a legendary war, he had residual battle intent that needed venting. He didn't refuse a "warm-up"!
"Then let us fight!"
Yamamoto slowly raised his hand and threw a casual punch. The cruel, tyrannical light of the Crimson Sun bloomed, blotting out the sky. Hell's heavens and earth began to burn violently. Faced with this strike, Rukia shivered and then completely surrendered her body to the Hogyoku!
Because the true "Demon Muscle Man" was never Rukia—it was the Hogyoku!
The Hogyoku was heroic. Controlling Rukia's body, it stepped like a ghost into the searing light. Then came a display of Hogyoku-style finishing moves. Fists, palms, fingers, feet—every strike was driven by a peerless lethality!
But Yamamoto deflected it all with casual waves of his hand.
"Too slow. And too weak. A mere 60% Absolute Realm... you dare brag before me and tell me everything is meaningless!?"
Faced with Yamamoto's disdain, Rukia felt the Hogyoku within her let out a detonating ROAR OF RAGE!
It, the grand Hogyoku—the Pilot of Rukia Unit-01 appointed by the Soul King, the Creator of the Fighting World's Supreme Justice, the Core Relay Server for Purity Updates—when had it ever been looked down upon like this!?
POWER! GET THE HELL OUT HERE FOR THE HOGYOKU, GODDAMMIT!!!
End of Chapter
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