Chapter 304: Bringing Hueco Mundo to Peace

Long before Makoto had become the Vice-captain of the Fourth Division, the rate at which he accumulated spiritual power through the 'Seeds of the Forest' had already reached an astonishing level—nearly equivalent to six times the amount possessed by Love Aikawa in a single year.

In other words, more than fifty years ago, Makoto's annual increase in spiritual power alone had already neared the total reserves of a captain-class Shinigami.

Not to mention, in the decades that followed, as the Fourth Division's Vice-captain, he had healed countless Shinigami whose spiritual power had reached officer-level and beyond. Even he had lost count of how many.

What he knew for certain, however, was that with just a slight probe, he could sense that 'Seeds of the Forest' had spread throughout the entire Seireitei, interwoven with numerous spiritual entities.

Sowing the Seireitei…

Except for a select few individuals, Makoto had, in the truest sense, accomplished this.

As a result, even he had difficulty calculating the sheer magnitude of spiritual power he had amassed over the years.

Particularly after achieving a significant degree of mastery over his Perfect Spirit Body, he had no choice but to continuously suppress his own energy, fearing that even an unintentional release might expose an overwhelming level of spiritual pressure.

To this end, Makoto had effectively placed a forced seal upon himself, locking away his immense spiritual power within his Perfect Spirit Body.

Yet, despite his best efforts, in recent years, even the spiritual pressure that occasionally leaked out unintentionally had reached a level comparable to an ordinary captain.

And now, for the first time, he was unleashing his full power without restraint.

His gaze gleamed with an intoxicating sense of release.

It felt good. So good.

A quiet sigh escaped his lips as he lifted his eyes. The monstrous surge of spiritual pressure erupted skyward, forming a nearly tangible barrier that effortlessly blocked the incoming barrage of Cero.

No—more accurately, it was dimensional suppression.

The raw destructive force of those Cero was terrifying. As they merged and intertwined, their combined power reached a catastrophic level.

But ultimately, they could not conceal a fundamental truth: the density of their spiritual pressure was utterly inferior to his.

It was like trying to collapse a steel wall with an endless pile of cotton.

This scene was incomprehensible—not only to the countless Adjuchas-class Hollows but also to Baraggan Louisenbairn himself.

"Impossible."

"The Cero… was blocked?!"

"Is this… a god?"

But unlike the Hollows drowning in disbelief, Makoto, seated upon his throne of withered wood, merely glanced at the spectacle caused by his unleashed spiritual pressure with a faint hint of disappointment.

Too weak.

Was this really all there was?

Compared to the future where Aizen was rumored to have sealed away so much power that even in restraint, his spiritual pressure alone was enough to shake the Royal Palace—this display of power felt utterly unimpressive.

After all, Makoto had never measured himself by the standards of mere Hollows.

The real reason he had chosen to fully release his spiritual pressure now—aside from Baraggan leading his army right to his doorstep—was far more significant.

He had sensed the presence of Kyōka Suigetsu.

Aizen's Zanpakutō was on the other side of Hueco Mundo.

Even with the spiritual pressure he was currently releasing, he had no concerns about Aizen sensing him from such a distance.

"Sorry, Captain Aizen… a game of chess? I think I'm about to flip the board."

A subtle smile played at the corners of Makoto's lips as he lightly tapped the armrest of his withered throne.

Instantly, bolstered by his immense spiritual energy and the dense spirit particles of Hueco Mundo, a vast forest of deadwood erupted around him, spreading at an uncontrollable rate toward the massive Hollow horde.

"Boom—boom—BOOM!"

The entire desert seemed to tremble.

Endless withered trees sprouted from the sands, surging outward like an unstoppable tide.

Ten meters. A hundred meters. A thousand meters.

In the blink of an eye, before the eyes of the stunned Hollows, Makoto had single-handedly created a Great Hollow Forest.

And they were nothing more than trapped insects within it.

Terror.

Every Adjuchas present—Hollows that had long developed their own consciousness—felt an indescribable, primal fear surge through them as they gazed upon the being seated upon the throne of withered wood.

Even Baraggan, the so-called King of Hueco Mundo, found himself utterly paralyzed.

Why did such a terrifying existence reside in Hueco Mundo?

Even in the most ancient of times, not even the legendary Hollow who once attempted to storm the Royal Palace had demonstrated such overwhelming power.

And with his knowledge of Makoto's immunity to decay, Baraggan—the King of Hueco Mundo himself—felt something he had never experienced before.

Despair.

"Then…"

"Let Hueco Mundo rest in peace for the next hundred years."

Makoto's voice was calm, almost gentle.

From his perspective, Baraggan's army represented more than half of the Adjuchas-class and above Hollows in all of Hueco Mundo.

If he eradicated them completely, then the Expeditionary Force would no longer have any reason to remain in Hueco Mundo.

There would be no prolonged battles, no more wounded soldiers needing healing from the Fourth Division's medics.

"Consider this… an early treatment."

Makoto whispered to himself as he slowly raised his hand. His gaze turned cold as he prepared to manipulate the thousand-meter-high forest of deadwood, intending to purify every last Hollow before him.

But then—suddenly.

An equally monstrous surge of spiritual pressure erupted from beyond the forest.

Before Makoto could react, thousands of high-level Cero, nearly on par with those fired by Vasto Lorde, came crashing down upon his Great Hollow Forest.

"BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!"

Even with its extreme durability, capable of withstanding the attacks of an Adjuchas, the forest could not endure the sheer might of Vasto Lorde-level Cero.

Especially not when thousands of them struck simultaneously.

As the smoke cleared, an enormous gap had been forcefully carved into the forest's outer perimeter.

And at the far end of this newly opened passage stood two powerful figures.

One, clad in a gray-white coat, wielding twin pistols—Coyote Starrk, in his Resurrección form.

The other, a demonic-looking Vasto Lorde, exuding an aura of sheer menace.

Yet, it was not these two that made Makoto's pupils contract in shock.

Between them, standing with an air of effortless confidence, was a man draped in a captain's haori.

"Aizen Sōsuke!"

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