Chapter 303: The Terror of Spiritual Pressure
Baraggan slowly rose from his throne, his entire body wreathed in thick, ominous black mist.
"I am the King of Hueco Mundo! Do you truly believe that anything within my domain can escape my sight?"
"Is that so?"
Makoto responded calmly.
"Then tell me, why do I hear hesitation in your voice? Uncertainty. Fear. Are you afraid of me, Baraggan? Afraid that I can ignore the power of decay you wield?"
The moment those words fell, even Baraggan's skeletal form seemed to stiffen slightly, as though Makoto had seen right through him.
Fear.
That's right…
As the self-proclaimed King of Hueco Mundo, Baraggan was terrified—terrified of his own power of decay, and even more so of the possibility that someone might exist who could resist it.
The existence of Makoto was something Baraggan could not tolerate.
He had mobilized every force at his disposal, even going so far as to manipulate thousands of Gillians into forming this encirclement—all to ensure Makoto's annihilation.
His skeletal fingers tightened around his massive battle-axe, his voice dark and oppressive.
"Asura Gensei, such meaningless provocations will only hasten your demise. You have but two choices—
Submit to me, or perish here, reduced to dust."
Yet, Makoto—who had already tested his own power level against the many Hollows he encountered in Hueco Mundo—simply let a smirk of disdain curl at his lips.
In the desolate and ruthless world of Hueco Mundo, even Makoto's personality had begun to subtly change.
There were no restrictions here. No rules like those that governed the Soul Society. He had no need to pretend anymore.
And so, with a mere thought, deadwood sprouted behind him, weaving itself into a massive, throne-like structure in mere seconds.
Under Baraggan's watchful gaze, Makoto leisurely settled onto the throne. His posture was casual—one elbow resting on the armrest, his chin propped on his palm…
Encircled by hundreds of Adjuchas and thousands of Gillians, Makoto simply gazed downward at Baraggan, his expression eerily composed.
Then, he spoke.
"In this vast world, I bow to only one person—someone worthy of demanding my submission. And that person is certainly not a mere Vasto Lorde."
There was a pause.
The warm, gentle gaze Makoto had maintained for decades suddenly sharpened with an unprecedented edge.
His voice was laced with undisguised contempt as he continued.
"Tell me, Baraggan, what made you so delusional as to think I would ever kneel before you?"
Makoto's blatant disdain sent Baraggan into a boiling fury.
The hollow sockets of his skull-like visage darkened with a murderous glint, his entire being seething with uncontrollable killing intent.
"Asura Gensei, it seems you have yet to grasp the situation. You have no idea what it means to face the collective might of the Hollows."
Baraggan's voice dripped with cold amusement as he continued.
"Then again, how could you? Even the Soul Society—the eternal enemy of the Hollows—has long since forgotten the true terror of our kind."
"For thousands of years, no one has witnessed the full power unleashed when countless Hollows merge their strength."
"Asura Gensei, you will be the first in millennia to experience that power—and the first to be obliterated by it."
As Baraggan's words fell, the surrounding Hollow horde responded in perfect unison.
Thousands of mouths opened wide.
Thousands of Ceros began to charge at once.
In that moment, Makoto realized something.
Just as Shinigami could combine their powers to form massive Kido barriers, did Hollows… also have the ability to synchronize their abilities?
After all, the common Soul Society belief was that Gillians were mindless, chaotic monstrosities, and that Adjuchas were too obsessed with devouring each other to work together.
Vasto Lordes were exceedingly rare, and Hollows were never thought to coordinate like Shinigami did.
But… Cero.
A fundamental Hollow technique—what if Cero could merge, compounding into something far greater than the sum of its parts?
As the realization struck him, the entire battlefield lit up.
The sky above, once a desolate abyss, was now speckled with thousands of flickering crimson lights—like a field of stars burning brilliantly against the void.
Only…
These stars did not bring beauty.
They brought annihilation.
The brilliance intensified.
Thousands of Ceros—each one equivalent to the full-powered strike of a Captain-class Shinigami—were converging into a cataclysmic surge of destruction.
From a distance, Baraggan's skeletal grin widened as he watched the scene unfold.
Yet, amidst this incoming catastrophe, Makoto showed no fear.
He made no attempt to flee the encirclement.
Instead, he casually turned his head to the side and asked,
"Grimmjow, not planning to run?"
Grimmjow's voice was low but resolute.
"There's no escaping this."
Makoto chuckled. "If you swear allegiance to Baraggan, you might be spared from getting obliterated along with me."
Grimmjow scoffed, his tone tinged with pride and defiance.
"Don't lump me in with those weaklings who submit to Baraggan."
Makoto arched a brow in mild surprise. "Not even a trace of fear?"
Grimmjow's voice was calm and unwavering.
"Fear? Of course. But if you're standing there so unfazed, Lord Asura, then I don't believe you'll be taken down so easily."
A grin tugged at Makoto's lips. "Good answer. Then brace yourself."
At that moment—
The storm of Ceros was unleashed.
Thousands of searing red beams fused into a devastating flood of energy, surging toward Makoto in a relentless cascade of destruction.
The sheer intensity of the attack dyed the entire battlefield crimson, as if the very fabric of Hueco Mundo was set ablaze.
But then—
Amidst the roaring inferno of energy, an unfathomable surge of spiritual pressure erupted.
A presence that completely transcended that of a Vasto Lorde.
A presence so overwhelming that even Baraggan himself—the so-called King of Hueco Mundo—could not fathom it.
And at the epicenter of this terrifying spiritual pressure—
Was none other than Makoto, still seated calmly upon his throne of deadwood.
His previously concealed spiritual pressure burst forth, shredding the cloak he wore into nothingness.
Grimmjow—who stood closest to him—immediately collapsed to his knees, his body instinctively submitting to the crushing weight of the spiritual pressure.
Under this immense pressure, the very air twisted, the desert trembled, and everything in its wake seemed on the verge of subjugation.
(TL/N - AURA🔥👑)
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