Chapter 148: The Defeat of 'O'

Yes, it was coming.

Chojiro had originally thought he would have a little breathing room, but as if time itself held a personal grudge against him, a year passed in the blink of an eye, leaving not a single trace behind, nor changing a single thing.

Although in the battle against Aizen, through a twist of fate, Suifeng's arm—which should have been devoured by Baraggan—was saved, the truly crucial arm of Yamamoto Shigekuni was still sacrificed. Moreover, throughout this entire year, despite Chojiro arguing until his lips were chapped, Yamamoto steadfastly refused to use Inoue Orihime's powers to heal the injury to his arm.

In the end, Chojiro was so infuriated he nearly contemplated slipping a sleeping potion into Yamamoto's drink to forcibly restore the arm. However, considering he might subsequently be reduced to ashes by Zanka no Tachi, Chojiro—valuing his own precious life—ultimately decided to abandon the plan.

For these Soul Reapers who had lived for God knows how long, and for the Soul Society whose years of existence could no longer be verified, a year was merely the snap of a finger.

That moment had finally arrived—

"Bang!"

"!"

Chojiro, who had been taking a stroll near Yamamoto's private chambers, suddenly heard a dull thud coming from the other side of the building and rushed over to investigate.

"Hey! What the—"

There, a patrol squad consisting of one hundred and sixteen men, who should have been strictly patrolling by the clock to prevent any contingencies, lay dead across the ground, alongside unharmed intruders.

"…Who goes there?"

Although he had long anticipated this outcome, seeing it with his own eyes still felt deeply shocking.

"Are there actually survivors?"

One of the figures, appearing to be the leader, wore clothing resembling the attire of the Seireitei districts, slightly raising his chin.

"You certainly have some nerve showing your face, Shinigami."

"I asked who you are."

Ignoring the taunts of the leader—who should be Luders Frigen—Chojiro's gaze shifted to the other individuals of varying heights standing behind him.

"The enemy. That is all you need to know."

Luders, acting as if Chojiro were beneath his notice, slowly paced forward, while the few followers behind him also moved in step, heading straight toward the Captain-Commander's private quarters.

They sensed no formidable spiritual pressure whatsoever from Chojiro, merely treating him as a standard Shinigami—though they could not fathom why an ordinary Shinigami was permitted to wear a white haori.

"Thud, thud..."

In the vast corridor, only the footsteps of Luders and his men echoed.

"..."

"..."

Both sides remained silent; no one spoke.

"Thud..."

Just as Luders and his group were passing right beside him, Chojiro suddenly blurted out words that caught them entirely off guard.

"How is Yhwach doing?"

"!"

What had he just said?

"Whoosh!"

One of the taller enemies suddenly reached back to grab Chojiro, but only grasped empty air, touching nothingness.

"Hah, what? Are you so surprised that the enemy easily figured out your identities and the name of your boss?"

Using Flash Steps to evade the enemy's attack, Chojiro wore a faint, mocking smile at the corners of his mouth as he gazed at the enemies before him, who were unmistakably Quincies.

"You bastard..."

Luders abandoned the notion of ignoring this Shinigami. To be able to discern their identities without any prior context, and somehow even know the name of His Majesty, all these signs indicated that this fellow was definitely no ordinary Shinigami.

He had to be eliminated.

"Leave him to me."

Another bulky Quincy stepped out from the ranks. Judging by his physique, Chojiro recognized him as one of the Sternritter from the original timeline—Driscoll Berci—who had stolen the medallion of Choujiro's bankai, Koko Gonryo Rikyu, and killed him.

"You want to fight me yourself?"

Smiling dismissively, Chojiro looked at the large man towering far above him, then swept a glance over the remaining Quincies.

"I am doing this for your own good. It would be best if you all came at once. If it's just him, he'll be dealt with in an instant."

"Shut your trap!"

Driscoll rubbed his hands together, summoning a massive spiritual energy javelin into his grip before hurling it directly at Chojiro, who stood not far away.

"Boom!"

The javelin exploded violently upon the ground, its immense force fracturing even the adjacent walls, leaving no doubt that a direct hit would reduce anyone to smithereens.

"Then I leave him to you. We are going inside first."

Luders cared little for this Quincy who possessed the Schrift personally bestowed by His Majesty, as Driscoll was far inferior, nor did he believe that arrogant Shinigami could emerge unscathed from Driscoll's hands.

Without a moment's hesitation, Luders led the remaining few and vanished past the building, presumably entering the Captain-Commander's private chambers.

"Phew... So tiring."

Tearing off his strange outer garment, Driscoll gripped his brow with a ferocious grin, as if that single javelin throw had drained an excessive amount of his stamina.

"The Schrift bestowed by His Majesty is truly exhausting..."

"I see, the *The Overkill*, is it?"

"!"

From the slowly dissipating smoke and dust suddenly came the voice of the Shinigami he should have obliterated with a single strike, and judging by the tone, he hadn't suffered the slightest injury!

How could that be?

He had clearly just slain over a hundred men, so his strength should have surged immensely. Why was it completely ineffective against this seemingly unremarkable Shinigami?

Not only that, but he even knew the meaning of the Schrift bestowed upon him by His Majesty? Who on earth was this guy?!

"All the same, to be honest, I didn't expect your power to grow so much just from killing a hundred people. It seems if given time, you would become quite troublesome."

"Hah..."

Sweeping away the obstructive smoke before him with a wave of his hand, an unscathed Chojiro approached Driscoll with a playful smile.

"Quite troublesome indeed. Didn't I tell you earlier to all stay behind?"

"Damn you!"

Driscoll proved worthy of being a captain-class Quincy. Another javelin materialized in his hand, and he prepared to pierce the Shinigami before him through and through with his terrifying might.

"Clap."

Casually catching Driscoll's javelin in one hand, Chojiro reached out with his other hand to grasp the Zanpakuto hanging at his waist, which he hadn't drawn until now.

"Since you've all entered the Captain-Commander's private quarters, I can no longer afford to be so leisurely. Though I feel a bit sorry for you..."

"I must ask you to exit the stage now."

"You bastard..."

Finally realizing the vast disparity between himself and the Shinigami before him, Driscoll thought of fleeing, but Chojiro, having already closed the distance, refused to give him the chance.

"Farewell, Quincy."

"Boom!"

The silver rapier slashed fiercely forward, a flash of lightning erupted, and a deafening explosion echoed through the air.

"Gonryo Hakurai."

"Crack!"

Hundreds of millions of volts of electrical current, combined with the sheer force of the explosion, manifested simultaneously upon Driscoll's body. His once sturdy and robust frame was instantly reduced to charred cinders under this single blow, his pristine white uniform vanishing into nothingness. Bathed in the baptism of Gonryojimaru, he was ground into powder, forever remaining upon the soil of the Soul Society.

"Very well..."

Sheathing his sword, Chojiro retrieved the medallion he had pilfered from Driscoll, tucked it into his bosom, glanced toward the direction of the Captain-Commander's private quarters, and let the corners of his mouth curve upward.

"Don't be in such a hurry to leave. We are very hospitable hosts."

"I'll have you stay a little longer."