Shinigami: Medicine Can't Save The Soul Reaper Society

Makoto's gaze shifted beyond Harribel's figure, locking onto the chaotic wave of Hollows that surged behind her.

Countless Adjuchas of various shapes and forms flooded into view. The immense spiritual pressure they radiated rolled forward like a tidal wave, crashing across the landscape.

Ten… twenty… fifty?

With just a quick scan, Makoto counted over fifty Adjuchas.

While Adjuchas lacked the refined combat techniques of a captain-level Shinigami, their raw power far surpassed that of an average Vice-captain.

This force... was enough to launch a direct assault on the Seireitei.

His attention shifted again, this time settling on a grotesque figure seated atop a throne carried by four Adjuchas—a skeletal figure crowned with a bone-like crown and draped in a flowing mantle.

Baraggan Louisenbairn.

The name surfaced from both his past life's memories and the intelligence gathered in the Seireitei archives.

The self-proclaimed King of Hueco Mundo—an ancient Hollow who had ruled for countless ages. A Vasto Lorde who wielded the power of aging itself, reducing anything he touched to withered decay.

Is this a battle between two Vasto Lordes?

Makoto's eyes flicked between the two figures, brow furrowing.

No... Baraggan isn't fighting fair. He's brought an entire horde of Adjuchas to corner Harribel.

His instinct to remain an observer momentarily wavered, sympathy stirring for Harribel. Whether it was her strength or her appearance that made him subconsciously side with her, he wasn't entirely sure.

Then, he noticed something peculiar.

Unlike Harribel, who bore superficial wounds, the three Adjuchas beside her—Apacci, Mila Rose, and Sung-Sun—were in far worse shape. Their injuries, especially the damage to their limbs, hindered their movement significantly.

With Harribel's speed as a Vasto Lorde, she could have easily outrun the pursuing horde. Yet she chose to stay.

So that's his plan... Makoto realized. He's using her Fracción to slow her down.

Baraggan wasn't just strong—he was cunning.

Suddenly, about fifty meters from Makoto's position, Mila Rose's steps faltered. Her wounded knee gave out, sending her crashing into the pale sand.

"Mila!"

The other three stopped as one, turning toward their fallen comrade.

"Damn it…" Mila Rose gritted her teeth, glancing down at her exposed kneecap, where splintered bone peeked through torn muscle. Furious, she slammed a fist into the ground. "Harribel-sama, don't wait for me! Go! I'll catch up!"

Apacci and Sung-Sun shouted in unison.

"You idiot! Do you have a death wish?"

"Stop acting tough! Get up and move! If you slow Harribel-sama down, I'll make you pay later!"

Harribel's golden brows knitted together as she took in Mila's ruined knee. Her voice, low and steady, cut through their panic.

"Enough. Pointless arguments won't help us now."

She raised her massive bone blade and slammed it into the sand, the gesture calm but resolute.

"Prepare to fight."

The unshakable steadiness in her tone brought tears to her subordinates' eyes.

"Go without us!" Mila pleaded.

"She's right! Baraggan wants you, not us!" Apacci shouted.

"With us gone, you can outrun him!" Sung-Sun added desperately.

Harribel's eyes, as vast and deep as the ocean, remained unwavering.

"Don't be foolish," she said. "I failed you. I failed to protect my subordinates... and now we face the consequences together."

Before they could respond, the Hollow horde reached them.

The Adjuchas carrying Baraggan's throne halted, lowering it onto the sand a hundred meters from Harribel's group.

Baraggan reclined lazily, one skeletal hand propping up his skull-like face as he gazed down at them.

"Tier Harribel." His voice was deep, hollow, and laced with disdain. "For the final time, I offer you mercy. Swear loyalty to me, and I will forgive your insolence. Serve as my subordinate, and I will allow you to remain a Vasto Lorde, rather than reducing you to dust."

The air around them seemed to grow colder as his words sank in.

Harribel's emerald eyes met his, steady as still water.

"No matter how many times you ask," she answered softly, "my answer will not change."

Baraggan's hollow sockets seemed to narrow.

"I will never join a Hollow faction that seeks power through slaughtering others. I will not stand with those who sacrifice their own for strength."

A guttural laugh escaped Baraggan's skeletal jaws.

"Such foolishness. Hueco Mundo is a realm of death and consumption. To kill is to survive. To devour is to evolve. Do you think mercy or compassion has a place here?"

He leaned forward slightly.

"And you—a Vasto Lorde—dare to pity these inferior beings? Have you forgotten how you gained your power? You rose by consuming hundreds of Hollows."

"I haven't forgotten," Harribel said quietly.

"That's precisely why I stand here now. I know the agony of being prey. I've endured the despair of being devoured. As a Vasto Lorde who no longer needs to feed to survive... how could I ignore that suffering?"

"Sentimental weakness," Baraggan sneered.

"Strength is absolute. Vasto Lorde or not, you'll learn that lesson soon enough."

He rose from his throne, towering over the battlefield.

"You think you've reached the pinnacle? Let me show you how vast the gap between us truly is. Today, Tier Harribel, you will become part of my power."

Harribel's jaw tightened as she shifted her grip on her blade.

Without warning, she lunged forward, charging straight at Baraggan through the throng of Hollows.

Baraggan raised his colossal battle-axe, voice dripping with contempt.

"A reckless charge? Brave, perhaps… but foolish."

Their weapons met with an ear-splitting crack.

Spiritual pressure surged outward as the two Vasto Lordes collided, the force of their spiritual pressure tearing through the sand and splitting the skies above Hueco Mundo.

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