Chapter 190 – 190 ⥤ The Gift

Under the crescent moon lay a vast silver sea. Towering walls stood proudly within it, like stars dotting the endless desert.

Baraggan, skeletal in appearance, sat upon a throne assembled from oddly-shaped bones. His right hand propped against his cheek as he gazed pensively at the bustling construction site before him.

A thousand years, ten thousand years, or was it a hundred thousand?

He could no longer remember clearly, but since gaining consciousness, he had been one of only two kings of Hueco Mundo. Across the boundless realm, only Ikomikidomoe could stand as his equal.

As time rolled on, new Menos continued to emerge in Hueco Mundo — Gillian, Adjuchas, and even Vasto Lorde.

At first, Baraggan paid little attention, but when the number of wandering Hollows exceeded those under his command, he felt an inexplicable tension. It was as if his supreme throne might one day be taken from him.

For this reason, he gathered all the wandering Adjuchas under his command, preparing for future contingencies.

But what he never expected was that everything he had done would prove futile. As his previous arrogance had suggested, numbers meant nothing before true strength.

When the throne of Hueco Mundo changed hands, Baraggan was lost once again.

Defeated by the Shinigami, he should have calmly accepted death, but instead of killing him, his opponent gave him the respect and position he deserved.

When those two weren’t in Hueco Mundo, his authority remained supreme. Yet when he saw Las Noches renewed with fresh vitality, his confusion only grew stronger.

Had everything he’d done before been right? As God-King of Hueco Mundo, had he been worthy, or had he merely stagnated due to his pride?

Countless questions welled up in his heart.

But when he saw his former subjects showing expressions completely different from the past, Baraggan understood.

His vision had been too narrow before, focused only on immediate benefits and pleasure, never considering the thoughts of other Adjuchas. Now the Adjuchas had found new hope, and their current loyalty compared to his previous reign was like heaven and earth — there was no comparison.

As Baraggan was deep in thought, the space around him cracked and then shattered.

Sensing the familiar Reiatsu approaching, Baraggan wasn’t surprised. For him, time was meaningless; while other Adjuchas might think the new God-King of Hueco Mundo had been gone long, to him, that annoying Shinigami brat had only left yesterday.

“Old Gutknetch, I brought you a present!”

The voice arrived before the person.

The boisterous, casual voice made Baraggan’s skull throb, as if someone were tapping it repeatedly with a small hammer.

“Lord Kisaragi, as God-King of Hueco Mundo, one should maintain royal dignity…” The Skeleton, unable to bear seeing the title of Hueco Mundo’s King tarnished by Akira’s behavior, began advising like an old minister.

But before he could finish speaking, a huge package came flying at him. With no time to react, a mountain-like shadow enveloped him, and with a rustling sound, Baraggan was buried completely.

Watching this scene, Aizen fell silent.

He found Akira’s way of interacting with others peculiar — this young man never considered others’ status or personality, always acting as he pleased. Yet somehow this equal treatment consistently won others’ favor.

This left Aizen, who understood human nature so well, puzzled.

Could this be what they called “fortune favors fools”?

The package buried Baraggan like a burial mound, the resemblance even stronger when a skeletal arm emerged from within.

Then the skull wearing a golden crown emerged, and as the skeleton freed himself, he finally saw what had buried him.

“This is… Books?” His delicate bone fingers held a brand new book, confusion flickering in his hollow eye sockets.

“I brought you every issue of the Seireitei Communication since it started, plus all the novels and photo collections published in Soul Society!” Akira crossed his arms with a “no need to thank me” expression.

“What use are these to me?” Baraggan paused, “I’m not interested in these.”

“How do you know they’re useless if you don’t read them?” Akira smiled, “Do you know why you lost to me?”

“It’s because you, as the former God-King of Hueco Mundo, were set in your ways, refusing to accept any information from the outside world — content to guard your little domain and live as a shut-in.”

Looking at the young man’s serious expression, Baraggan wanted to argue that if they hadn’t ganged up on him, the outcome might have been different. But considering Akira’s specifically targeted defensive abilities, he swallowed those words.

Even after all this time, whenever Baraggan thought about it, he still found it absurd.

His power could decay even a Shinigami’s Kidō, yet when facing this one young man, the decay rate plummeted. This guy’s skin was even more formidable than a Vasto Lorde’s Hierro.

Seeing his silence, Akira assumed he had convinced him and stepped forward to pat his bony shoulder.

“Being a shut-in might be fun, but not everyone is suited for it. Isolation isn’t the way, old Bonesapart.”

With that, his form rose into the air and vanished from the construction site.

Aizen cast a pitying glance at the confused old one, sighed, and offered some advice.

“Just think of it as a way to pass the time.”

Due to frequent travel between Hueco Mundo and Soul Society, Baraggan had grown more familiar with Aizen.

Yet something about this young man unsettled him. When alone together, an inexplicable pressure bore down — as if before him stood not a Shinigami, but a being far higher in the natural order than himself.

Baraggan loathed this sensation. He preferred Akira’s company, despite the man’s casual disrespect. At least Akira was genuine.

“I understand.” He nodded curtly, eager to end the conversation.

Aizen vanished with a Shunpo without another word.

After they had gone, Baraggan contemplated briefly before drawing a book from the literary mountain before him.

The cover was beautiful — a quiet path adorned with blooming flowers and verdant leaves, reflecting a cluster of roses.

“This is… The Rose-Colored Path?” Baraggan’s eye sockets widened at the author’s name, “Eighth Division Captain Shunsui Kyōraku? Someone of his rank has time for creative pursuits?”

His slender bone fingers, driven by curiosity, opened the book’s cover and began to read.

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In the laboratory.

Szayelaporro welcomed Akira with a smile — his attitude a stark contrast to Baraggan’s.

He deftly helped remove the man’s Captain’s haori, hanging it on a nearby coat rack, then fussed over him with maternal concern that surpassed even old man Genryūsai.

At least, that’s how it appeared to Akira. Too solicitous not to arouse suspicion.

“Such excessive courtesy suggests ulterior motives.” He eyed the fawning Szayelaporro warily, “Out with it — have you run out of experimental materials, or do you have new ideas?”

“As expected of His Majesty’s astounding wisdom — you’ve seen right through me.” Szayelaporro wrung his hands like a fly, his earlier elegance vanishing, “Recently, our mystic eye power research has hit a small bottleneck. The supply Lord Aizen delivered earlier is nearly depleted, so…”

This one certainly knew how to make requests. Like Mayuri, he precisely targeted Akira’s weak spots, always knowing exactly how to flatter him.

“No problem at all.” Akira pulled a pre-prepared container from his pocket, filled with black, writhing liquid resembling internal organs, “Don’t say I play favorites — since old Bonejangles got something, I wouldn’t forget about you. I brought this gift specially.”

The mystic eye power was something he had in abundance — Mimihagi had plenty of it, and he could trade a couple of baked sweet potatoes or a handful of konpeitō candy for loads of it.

Compared to collecting books for Baraggan, this was much simpler. At least Kisuke wouldn’t need to search for them.

Szayelaporro beamed with joy, carefully placing the mystic eye power in the laboratory’s safe.

This was the core of his future research projects. In studying its properties, he had glimpsed the possibility of perfect life. Compared to this power, his previous research on conception notification meant nothing.

Initially, he had his doubts. But upon seeing the mystic eye power, Szayelaporro immediately pledged his loyalty, swearing to serve Lord Akira faithfully for life and defend Las Noches to the death.

The usefulness of the mystic eye power far exceeded Akira’s expectations.

“By the way, didn’t you say you found traces of Vasto Lorde?” He suddenly remembered the purpose of his visit, “Where?”

Szayelaporro went to the control panel and pulled up footage from the Rokureichū (the bugs), along with a map of the explored regions of Hueco Mundo.

“Your Majesty, please look here at the position marked in red.”

“Northwest of the Forest of Menos.” Akira studied the map carefully. Though its orientation was difficult to determine, he recognized the scene from the Rokureichū.

“Grimmjow had a fight with them and got badly beaten.” Szayelaporro said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice, “They were about to deliver the killing blow, but Grimmjow, sensing the danger, unleashed his last bit of potential and managed to escape. He’s kept your words close to heart.”

Akira nodded thoughtfully.

Just then, Aizen walked in from outside, approached the two, and immediately focused on the footage on the screen.

“Rokureichū footage? It’s much clearer than before — has it been upgraded?”

Szayelaporro gave a slight nod, his tone revealing genuine respect, “Yes, Lord Aizen. After your guidance last time, many of my techniques have improved, the Rokureichū being just one example.”

Unlike with Akira, his respect for Aizen came from the heart.

Initially, he had thought this Shinigami was just an ordinary Soul Society scientist. But through their interactions, he discovered that Aizen’s knowledge not only far surpassed his own, but he could also grasp principles in fields he’d never encountered before.

His intellectual agility surpassed all living beings. In all his years, Szayelaporro had never encountered such an extraordinary existence.

If genius had a definition, it would be Aizen.

“Sōsuke, I’ll be right back.”

Seeing the two engaged in pleasant conversation, Akira immediately stood up and vanished from the laboratory before his friend could speak.

Watching his figure disappear, Aizen let out a helpless sigh. He knew this guy would never stay still once he came to Hueco Mundo.

“Don’t mind him, let’s continue discussing the progress of the previous Arrancar technology.”

Hearing this, Szayelaporro frowned worriedly, “But that’s Vasto Lorde. Aren’t you worried about His Majesty’s safety, Lord Aizen?”

Aizen shook his head, “Don’t worry — there are no beings in current Hueco Mundo capable of killing Akira. This I know better than anyone.”

Through his recent research, he had discovered that due to limitations in their soul structure, Hollows found it far more difficult to advance in power compared to Shinigami.

While Soul Society had monsters like Shigekuni Yamamoto, Hueco Mundo, over countless years, had produced only one Baraggan.

There might be Vasto Lordes stronger than the old skeleton, but their strength would be limited — they couldn’t possibly threaten the current Akira.

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BOOM!!

Dozens of crimson Cero blasts shot out, painting the dark sky and engulfing the silver sea ahead. Explosions rose to the heavens as silver dust swept outward in all directions, blocking out the sky.

A giant white snake burst from the center of the explosion, its pristine body now covered in scorch marks and horrific burn damage across its trunk.

Her name was Cyan Sung-Sun, and she had accidentally trespassed into another Adjuchas’ territory, leading to an attack by their Gillian forces.

After she was wounded by the group’s Cero blasts, their objective changed. Originally they had only wanted to drive her away, but upon realizing this white snake Hollow wasn’t particularly strong, greed rose in their hearts.

Eat her!

The rules of Hueco Mundo were far simpler than those of Soul Society and the World of the Living: the weak don’t deserve to live; only the strong survive.

Sensing danger approaching from behind, Cyan desperately twisted her body, trying to dodge the Cero attack. But her severe injuries had greatly reduced her speed, leaving her only able to drag trail marks across the desert.

Seeing no escape, she steeled herself, turned around, and opened her snake mouth. Red light gathered before her as she prepared for a desperate last stand.

But at that moment, a figure descended from the sky like a war god and stood before her.

To Cyan’s disbelief, the figure — who resembled a Shinigami — opened their mouth just as she had.

In the next instant, a crimson torrent interwoven with wild lightning burst forth, converging into a massive pillar of flame and thunder that instantly engulfed everything ahead!

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep