Bleach: The Strongest Shinigami-Chapter 305 ⥤ The Anxious Heart Finally Dies

In the ruins below, Yamamoto saw what was happening in the sky, his eyes widening. He was beginning to believe what Akira had said earlier.

This guy's appearance was as if he'd been cut from the same mold. Those practiced movements of removing his clothes — they were exactly the same.

Shunsui put down his dual swords, went to Yamamoto's side, and poked the old man while remarking thoughtfully:

"Yama-jii, when did you take on a new disciple out there? And without telling us."

Yamamoto glared at him irritably. Everything had been fine until Shunsui showed up, but now he couldn't help comparing the two.

They were both disciples he had trained, yet one was reaching for the heavens while the other remained earthbound.

Akira was already capable of turning the tide and saving Soul Society from disaster, while this one was still slacking off day after day!

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became, and he burst out:

"You worthless fool, squandering your talents every day! Once this is over, you're going to the back mountain of the First Division to practice splitting waterfalls with a wooden sword — and no using Reiatsu! You won't advance until you can split it!"

Shunsui: "?"

Had the old man gone senile?

Just recently, he had been pleased with his performance, even hinting at passing down the position of Captain-Commander to him.

How had his attitude done a complete reversal in the blink of an eye?

While master and disciple were getting on each other's nerves, beads of cold sweat rolled down Ichigo's forehead, seeping into his facial bandages.

There was only one reason: the pressure from the person before him was so overwhelming that he had no choice but to remain on high alert.

The current situation had become more than just strange.

In Ichigo's limited knowledge, a qualified Shinigami should primarily use their Zanpakutō as their main fighting style, with the path to greater strength lying in deeply developing that Zanpakutō.

Though not an official Shinigami, he was still recognized as a Substitute Shinigami. In this aspect, he was no different from regular Shinigamis.

But what was the deal with this guy? How had he become even stronger after throwing away his sword?

And those muscles that made one's heart skip a beat - weren't they a bit too extreme?! Was this guy really a Shinigami?

Ichigo seriously suspected that Akira was some inhuman monster wearing a Shinigami's skin.

"Hold back a bit, don't use it all at once."

Akira stretched his arms, his muscles and bones shifting with explosive sounds. Overwhelming Reiatsu poured from his body, distorting the surrounding space at will.

Though he no longer had the world's will supporting him in this parallel world, his current buffs and powerful stats alone were enough. He could take on not just Mugetsu Ichigo — even the Soul King would taste his fists.

The main point was simple: he feared nothing.

Feeling the terrifying pressure bearing down on him, Ichigo drew a sharp breath, forcing himself to stay calm.

He had already activated Mugetsu, his final state. Time was running out. If he couldn't defeat his opponent before it ended, he would be completely at their mercy.

At this point, he had no choice but to go all out!

With this resolve, Ichigo's confused gaze hardened with determination. Black energy condensed in his right hand, forming a weapon like a Zanpakutō. He had now completely merged with his Tensa Zangetsu, becoming one and the same.

This was the only way he could fight now.

Flash!

Ichigo vanished from his spot, moving so fast it was like teleportation. He didn't even disturb the air — as if he had been cut from one place and pasted to another, appearing directly before Akira.

The black blade fell. Space trembled. Deep black fissures appeared near the blade's light as fierce winds howled, and the blue sky seemed to be tinged with darkness.

Akira grinned, raising his fists to meet the attack. Thunder and fire intertwined behind his shoulder blades as his wings burst open, his presence as imposing as a descended demon god.

The two men of completely different styles clashed once again.

Ichigo grew more alarmed as the fight continued. His already fragile confidence shattered completely.

Despite his immense growth in power, he still couldn't comprehend his opponent's true strength. Before Akira, he was like a tiny boat on an endless ocean — even the smallest waves could obliterate him.

Blade light erupted, tearing black chasms across the sky like endless abysses. Fierce winds howled, unleashing waves of devastating force.

Yet Ichigo's attacks met only Mugen Kūhaku Hakai (Infinite Void Annihilation) in response.

Even at full power, he couldn't penetrate Akira's defense. The supposed transcendent being found himself utterly dominated.

After several failed attempts, Ichigo abandoned conventional tactics. His resolve hardened as black energy swirled violently around him, whipping up fierce winds.

"It's over." With a slight, resigned smile, he raised his blade high and slashed downward.

He had given everything he had. Fighting this monster had been pure torture for both body and mind.

Too exhausting — let it all end.

⤫ Mugetsu ⥤ Moonless Sky! ⤬

As these words fell, pure darkness engulfed the world, as if reality itself had been stripped away.

The watching Shinigami gazed up at the void in horror, their hearts gripped by terror. When they tried to express their shock, they discovered they had lost control of their bodies.

In the endless darkness, even the Shinigami's thoughts ceased.

A glimmer of anticipation flickered in Aizen's eyes.

He already knew how this would end for his counterpart. Even though he had evolved into a transcendent being through the Hōgyoku, this attack would leave him defenseless, his spirit broken.

The Hōgyoku's power depended entirely on one's state of mind. Once doubt crept in, the negative feedback would corrupt its abilities, leading to total collapse.

Reflecting on this, Aizen felt a twinge of pity for himself.

When Mugetsu fell, Akira didn't retreat but advanced, spreading his fists as his shocking presence began to rise without limit. He was like a volcano that had been dormant for a million years, suddenly erupting at the final moment.

Intense white light erupted from his fist bones, igniting with terrifying heat.

⤫ Muga Kyōkai, Daigo Kōtei Rei: Kongō Tenmaken ⥤ Selfless Realm, Fifth Imperial Decree: Diamond Heaven Demon Fist! ⤬

When the two attacks collided, heaven and earth fell silent — one half dyed pitch black, the other pure white, as if the world had been split in two.

The impact rippled outward like waves, expanding in circles across the heavenly vault. In an instant, the two forces canceled each other out, and vibrant colors returned to the world.

The moment vision was restored, everyone's eyes instinctively sought out Akira and Ichigo, desperate to know who had emerged victorious.

Both men had truly transcended the boundaries between Shinigami and Hollow, becoming genuine transcendent beings. Their attacks had surpassed all understanding and imagination.

Yet when the scene became clear, shock spread across nearly every face.

In the sky, someone cackled wildly while holding aloft an unconscious Ichigo, who had completely lost his Shinigami powers.

"Since The Beginning, no one has ever stood in the heavens — neither you, nor I, not even God himself. But that emptiness in the throne of heaven will be filled from this day forth. I will be the one to stand in the heavens!"

The Shinigami of Soul Society: "..."

Hearing these familiar words as Akira held him suspended, Ichigo's faltering heart finally gave out. His eyes went dark, and consciousness fled.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

Having dealt with the number one rebel, it was time for the aftermath.

Just one more wave of heavenly rebellion — subordinates overthrowing their superiors — and he could ascend to the throne of Soul Society.

Shunsui wore a peculiar expression as he watched Akira, who acted intimately familiar with him, arm draped over his shoulder, speaking of treason.

The situation defied easy judgment.

Here was a complete stranger, an antagonist who had defeated their greatest ally with mere punches, yet somehow Shunsui couldn't summon any animosity. An inexplicable charisma radiated from him.

Shunsui was beginning to believe those outrageous claims.

Akira spoke of night raids on Yamamoto — first stealing Ryūjin Jakka, then burning the Captain-Commander's haori. A dropped cup would signal five hundred axemen to rush in and reduce the old man to mincemeat. Then the position of Captain-Commander would be his.

Why was he suddenly feeling tempted?

Watching his two "wayward disciples" plotting schemes together, Yamamoto's blood pressure rose even higher than his Reiatsu.

"You bastards, I'll cut you down first!"

Sensing the scorching heat from behind, Akira laughed heartily and vanished in a flash, disappearing without a trace.

Shunsui had thought to flee quickly too, but the old man was one step ahead.

Looking at the white-bearded ancient citizen of Seireitei before him wreathed in flames, his smile gradually stiffened.

"Master, let me explain..."

⤫ Taimatsu ⥤ Torch! ⤬

Humiliating screams echoed through the sky above the ruins, deafening to hear.

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

With the battle between Ichigo and Akira concluded, a catastrophe was averted.

Soul Society returned to peace, and those destined to die had their fates altered through intervention.

Surveying the scene before him, both familiar and strange, Akira decided to do more for this world.

Underground Assembly Hall.

The Central 46 stared at the figures below with deep apprehension. The judgment they were meant to deliver caught in their throats.

How could there be two Aizens?!

Only after receiving urgent glances from their peers did the chief judge finally declare in a harsh, yet fearful voice:

"The judgment is pronounced. Former Fifth Division Captain Sōsuke Aizen will serve an 18,000-year sentence in Mugen, the 8º Level of the Underground Prison!"

The parallel Aizen, his body wrapped in black bandages, calmly observed the seated Central 46 members, his eyes gleaming with subtle mockery.

"My other self, surely you won't just stand by while these stubborn fools pass judgment?"

Having found someone of equal standing to converse with, the parallel Aizen didn't deign to address the Central 46.

He had always despised these decrepit old things. He had already killed one batch when betraying Soul Society, yet not long after, they had selected another batch — truly a disgusting system.

"What would you have me do?" Aizen smiled as he looked toward his sealed parallel self, asking his opinion.

"Naturally, to act according to our true hearts."

As counterparts from different timelines, parallel Aizen believed that even if he had changed because of certain people and events, his fundamental disgust for this ugly system would never waver in the slightest.

"Mm, then let these worms live a while longer." Aizen nodded, "After Akira and I eliminate some unnecessary risk factors, we'll deal with them."

A trace of awkwardness flashed across parallel Aizen's face.

Especially when hearing that person's name. He had spent his entire life unable to find someone who could stand at his level, yet another version of himself had found one.

The sense of disparity was even more unbearable than being sealed.

How nauseating.

Thinking this, parallel Aizen slowly closed his eyes, allowing the prison guard Shinigami to activate their Kidō and send him to Mugen.

Before the invitation arrived, he might as well use this free time to think. Perhaps he too could find a path most suited to himself...

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

1st Division, Tea Room.

Akira contentedly sipped the tea Yamamoto had brewed, savoring its sweet potato aroma and sighing with pleasure.

Watching the visitor's practiced tea-drinking motions and his casual, carefree expression, the old man felt certain. This one was definitely a wayward disciple he had trained.

His character was even worse than Shunsui's.

At this thought, Yamamoto couldn't contain his anger and snorted coldly:

"Boy, when do you plan to go back?"

Akira looked up in surprise, "Go back where?"

"To your own world, of course!" Yamamoto slapped the table, making it clear someone shouldn't play dumb.

"Oh, that? No rush, no rush."

Akira set down his teacup, picked up a sweet potato from Ryūjin Jakka, patted the blade and praised it with "well done".

"There are still important things to do. After dealing with him, then we can leave."

Yamamoto frowned. "What things?"

Akira snorted with laughter, "Classified!"

Yamamoto: "?"

⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬⤫⤬

Wandenreich, First Tower.

In the endless darkness, a blood-red light suddenly arose. A black shadow condensed upon the throne, and a figure materialized, uncertainty flashing across his deep, sinister countenance.

Yhwach wiped away nonexistent sweat from his forehead.

He had just experienced a nightmare. In the dream, the Quincy had betrayed him, his empire had been stolen, and even his familiar throne had been occupied by a strange figure.

Though he hadn't seen the other's appearance clearly, that incomparably evil laugh had been seared into his mind. Yhwach knew this was the most terrifying laugh he had heard since his birth.

After long contemplation, he slowly spoke into the darkness:

"Haschwalth..."

⤫⤬⤫

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