NOVEL NEXT Chapter 14: Chapter 14
The eighth floor of the Central Underground Prison—Muken.
This desolate abyss housed the most dangerous criminals in Soul Society—individuals whose power was so monstrous that even the strongest could not destroy them. Here, they were condemned to endure eternal imprisonment and unending torment.
In the endless void of darkness, a pair of small, sharp eyes slowly opened. Their gaze, cold and calculating, belonged to none other than Soya Azahiro—the man who had once defied the Zero Division and shaken the Soul King Palace itself.
Confusion and intrigue flickered across his face as he muttered into the void:
"It wasn't domination, absorption, or destruction... The spiritual pressure was directly expelled—cleanly and completely. No residual trail, no trace of its source... How is that possible?"
His voice, hoarse from disuse, echoed through the emptiness.
"Urozakuro ... What do you make of this?"
The air before him shimmered. From the nothingness emerged a stunning woman in ancient attire, her wide sleeves and flowing skirt exuding timeless elegance. Her eyes were hidden beneath a black silk band, yet her unseen gaze felt penetrating.
This was Urozakuro — Soya Azahiro's Bankai spirit.
Despite being his manifestation, Urozakuro's demeanor was far from loyal. Her voice, rich with sarcasm, carried a mocking edge:
"Isn't it obvious? He's smart—far smarter than you."
Her lips curled into a taunting smirk.
"Just look at that mysterious guy... then look at Aizen... and then, look at you."
She folded her arms, her tone dripping with condescension:
"You're all Shinigami, yet the gap between you and them is laughable."
Soya Azahiro's eyes darkened, but he said nothing. Urozakuro pressed on, her words sharp and scornful:
"Remember how you discovered my ability to transform the souls of Rukongai? You thought you were clever, didn't you?"
Soya Azahiro's voice, deep and measured, answered:
"I reported it to Central 46. Proposed a plan to modify soldiers—enhancing their strength through soul reconstruction. They approved it."
Urozakuro 's mockery sharpened:
"And then?"
His gaze grew cold, his voice laced with bitter memory:
"They accused me of unauthorized soul modification. They feared that the enhanced soldiers would be under my absolute control. So, they charged me with crimes against Soul Society's laws... And the Zero Squad came. I surrendered without a fight."
A soft, derisive laugh escaped Urozakuro's lips:
"Exactly. That's Soul Society for you. That's the nobility for you."
Her voice turned bitter:
"This is why Aizen hides in plain sight, and why your 'mysterious friend' stays in the shadows. You? You charged ahead like a fool—too proud, too righteous."
But Soya Azahiro, bound by countless seals, only shook his head, his gaze resolute:
"I am a Shinigami. My duty is to eradicate Hollows and protect this world. That is all that matters."
His voice dropped, but his conviction burned:
"That man... He's in Division One. I will find him. I will expose his power."
His narrowed eyes glinted with determination:
"As for Aizen… He's the type who needs watching closely. People who hide their strength are the most dangerous."
Meanwhile, Back in Uehara Shiroha's Room
Uehara Shiroha lay sprawled on his bed, finally feeling a rare sense of ease.
It wasn't that he was paranoid.
He simply had far too many secrets.
The Soul Society, peaceful on the surface, was a seething battleground beneath. Within it lurked Aizen, a mastermind with ambitions beyond imagination. And beyond it, the Invisible Empire—waiting, watching, ready to strike.
One wrong move could mean disaster.
And these Shinigami… Uehara mused with a wry smile, ...are gods at internal strife but cowards against outside threats.
Take Soya Azahiro, for example. His Bankai was monstrous—an ability that made him the embodiment of Soul Society itself. As long as the Soul Society existed, Soya Azahiro couldn't die. Even Yamamoto Genryūsai's Ryūjin Jakka was powerless against him. Burning the entire Soul Society just to kill one man was unthinkable.
But against the Quincies—who controlled Reiatsu directly— Soya Azahiro's power was useless. He couldn't fight what he couldn't control.
And then there were other freaks—like that guy, whose Bankai turned every Zanpakutō against its wielder. A "boot-licking" Zanpakutō, Uehara joked to himself. The poor bastard didn't even need to fight. The word "target" might as well be carved on his back. [*Tl: Please comment if you know who]
But what truly disgusted Uehara was Soul Society's politics—the noble clans' power plays, the betrayals, the endless backstabbing among Shinigami.
Even the revered Zero Division wasn't innocent. Rather than cooperating with the Gotei 13, they hoarded all core technologies—especially Zanpakutō forging techniques.
Every Zanpakutō ever made was known to Ōetsu Nimaiya, the creator himself. Not a single blade had escaped his knowledge.
And then there was Ichibē Hyōsube, the bald monk who literally controlled the concept of names. His Shikai—an absurd power—manipulated the darkness of the world. And what did every Shinigami wear?
Black uniforms.
Chew on that one for a while, Uehara thought darkly.
Late at Night—Outside the First Division Squad Barracks
Uehara Shiroha, cloaked in camouflage glasses and phased into a hollow-like spiritual state, moved like a ghost through the night.
His target was the infamous Sōkyoku Hill—the execution platform that could supposedly rival a million Zanpakutō in destructive power. He needed something hidden beneath it.
As he passed the First Division Squad's perimeter, he noticed a familiar figure. Yet, all the patrolShunkyō Jikūsennigami walked by, oblivious.
The figure? None other than Aizen Sōsuke, the newly appointed Fifth Division Captain. His Kyōka Suigetsu had already ensnared their senses.
Uehara Shiroha's eyes narrowed. He knew exactly where Aizen was headed—The Central 46.
But the Central 46—the lawmakers of Soul Society—were currently resting in Jōkyōrintō (Pure Pagoda Forest). So Aizen's real target could only be—
The Great Archive.
A mystical archive beneath the council hall, the Book Gallery recorded every event, every secret, and every forbidden technique since the dawn of Soul Society. It was, in essence, the "A Certain Magical Index" of this world.
Not even captains could enter it freely. Yet, Aizen would succeed—because only he ever managed to steal from it.
That's where he'll learn about the Hōgyoku.
From those records, Aizen would discover that Urahara Kisuke had already created a Hōgyoku. He would conclude that combining both their Hōgyoku would yield a complete one.
From there... Aizen would set forth on his path—stealing, manipulating, and eventually using Urahara's creations.
Hidden spiritual pressure cloak?
Hōgyoku extraction techniques?
Barrier inversion technology?
All of them—Urahara's genius innovations—would become Aizen's tools.
Watching from the shadows, Uehara Shiroha smirked and muttered under his breath:
"Aizen, my man, ever thought about building something yourself? Always freeloading off Urahara... You've practically made him bald with stress."
With a flash of Shunpo, Uehara abandoned his surveillance and continued on his mission.
The Sōkyoku Hill
The Sōkyoku platform, forged from dense Sekkiseki, was a place of final judgment—where condemned Shinigami faced death by "Sōkyoku", a blade said to hold the destructive force of one million Zanpakutō.
Kurosaki Ichigo would eventually crush it with one swing.
But tonight, Uehara Shiroha's interest lay beneath it.
Passing through layers of Sekkiseki, which nullified spiritual pressure and blocked spiritual particles, should have been impossible. But with his ability, Uehara slipped through effortlessly—like a shadow through cracks.
The oppressive walls gave way to a vast, brightly lit space. A secret base—abandoned and forgotten—lay before him.
A place surrounded by Sekkiseki, sealed from detection by barriers that blocked sound, scent, and spiritual signatures. No matter how loud things got down here—no one above would ever hear.
Uehara's eyes gleamed.
"Heh... Thanks, Urahara. Free real estate!"
From the layout, he could tell—Urahara had definitely exploited the Technology Development Bureau to create this place. But now?
It belongs to me, Uehara Shiroha.
As he wandered through the corridors, he came upon a separate chamber—one sealed behind a high-level Kidō barrier. Beyond the shimmering wall, steam rose from a large spring, its misty warmth curling into the air.
This wasn't just any spring—it was a healing spring modeled after the Blood Pond Hell from the Zero Division's sanctum. Its waters could rapidly restore one's vitality and spiritual pressure.
Uehara Shiroha, however, cared little for its healing properties. His Horse Talisman could out-heal any hot spring.
But the feeling of a hot soak after intense training? That... was priceless.
As he stepped closer—
SPLASH!
The sound of water stirred his senses.
Through the steamy veil, a figure emerged—
A stunning woman, her skin a rich, sun-kissed bronze, and her body lithe and powerful. Short, sleek purple hair clung to her neck, droplets tracing down her curves as she stretched with a sigh of satisfaction.
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