I said you are all war criminals

Even the monks themselves felt somewhat embarrassed.

but……

"So-called peace has always been like this."

Captain Yamamoto walked unsteadily on the streets of Seireitei, leaning on a cane.

Nine years of peace are like a piece of poison wrapped in honey, so sweet that it makes people sick.

He closed his eyes, as if he could still see the arrogant smile of Yhwach and hear the deafening hymns.

...That was a thousand years ago.

When he opened his eyes, he saw the tranquil scene of falling cherry blossoms in Jingling Garden. The contrast made him feel upset and almost vomited blood.

"Damn peace!"

He cursed under his breath and banged his cane against the ground.

He stopped in front of the Fifth Division's barracks.

He didn't know how he ended up here, maybe... his legs were just sore.

"Captain?"

A cry of surprise interrupted his thoughts.

It turned out to be Nana Ohba, the vice-captain of the Fifth Division, standing before him with a look of shock on her face. Nana was wearing a light purple kimono, her hair neatly combed, and light makeup on, looking exceptionally energetic.

"Ah, it's Vice Captain Ohba."

Yamamoto looked at her with cloudy eyes, and no emotion could be heard in his hoarse voice.

Nana Ohba hurriedly saluted, "Captain, what are you doing..."

"I'm just taking a walk."

Yamamoto's mind was not on greetings at all at the moment.

"But……"

Nana Ohba wanted to say something but stopped herself. She always felt that something was wrong with the captain today. He looked very different from his usual serious and majestic image. Instead, he looked like a lost old man.

"Nothing to worry about."

Yamamoto waved his hands. He just wanted to be alone, or rather, he wanted to find a place to vent his anger.

"Captain, is there something on your mind?"

Nana Ohba asked cautiously. She rarely saw Captain Yamamoto looking so depressed.

Yamamoto glanced at her. "Your clothes... are you just coming into the human world? I remember, today is..."

"It's the Kanda Festival! The whole of Tokyo is celebrating!"

Nana Ohba scratched her cheek shyly, "It's a little bit uncomfortable, but... I went to accompany my deceased friend today."

"...You should be well aware that you and Nana Ohba in her lifetime are not the same person."

Yamamoto's eyebrows shot up.

"Humph! That's outrageous!"

Yamamoto slammed his cane down on the ground, shaking Nana Ohba's shoulders. "A god of death should act like a god of death! It's unbecoming to dwell on those trivial things from your life all day long!"

Nana Ohba lowered her head, her hands tightly clutching the corners of her clothes, and remained silent. Her light purple kimono wrapped around her slender figure, making her look a little frail. She couldn't understand why Captain Yamamoto was so repulsed by the real world, when there were so many wonderful things there, like... like today's Kanda Festival, with its lively scenes, delicious snacks, and the happy smiles of her friends...

Captain, you are too stubborn.

Looking at her like this, Yamamoto realized that his tone might have been a bit harsh. Thinking of this, he softened his tone and sighed, "Nana, what your friends see is not the you of today, but the Nana Ohba they knew before you died."

Just like Goto Ichiri.

She is also... not Yhwach.

"……never mind."

Yamamoto lost interest.

If it were a normal day, Yamamoto would have continued his lecture. Old age is like that; it makes you want to point fingers at your juniors, and even more so, to let them follow the path you've defined.

...But this is already the end of the world.

There is no need to continue preaching this.

Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni stopped lecturing Ōba Nana and began walking again. He trudged along the path of Seireitei Garden, leaning on a cane. Cherry blossoms continued to fall, fluttering like a pink snow.

Along the way, many death gods greeted him.

Thousands of years ago, this was completely unimaginable.

A thousand years ago, Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni was the so-called "Sword Demon". Not to mention his enemies, even his subordinates and teammates did not dare to greet him in daily life.

...No, let alone a thousand years ago.

Even ten years ago, it's unlikely that a Shinigami would greet him, the captain, so cheerfully. After all, even ten years ago, the Gotei 13 weren't as... relaxed as they are now.

Yes, this is a relaxed era.

Ever since Soul Society and the human world were connected again, ever since the Quincies and the Shinigami established relations, the Shinigami have changed.

It became like a Quincy... no, it became like a human being in the real world.

Vice Captain Ohba is an example. He not only established diplomatic relations with humans, but even reunited with his friends from his "previous life".

...There's actually nothing wrong with this era.

Yamamoto is not a stubborn person.

The falling cherry blossoms seemed to slow down. Yamamoto walked aimlessly, his thoughts as erratic as the blossoms. He passed the First Squad barracks, the conference room where countless captains' meetings had taken place, the training grounds of the Shinō Spiritual Academy... and before he knew it, he had reached the gate to the Seireitei.

The huge black door stood quietly, emitting an unsettling aura.

Yamamoto stopped and stared at the door with cloudy eyes.

strangeness……

Yamamoto frowned. This door leading to the Eye of the Soul King was not closed?

Logically, upon learning of the Soul King's death—Yamamoto believed Goto Ichiri could sense it—Goto Ichiri should have sealed the passageway to prevent Squad Zero from attacking her. After all, regardless of any Quincy, as the reincarnation of Yhwach, Goto Ichiri must have known that Squad Zero would use her as a new human sacrifice after the Soul King's death.

Could it be... that the Quincies haven't had time to close it yet?

or……

An idea flashed through Yamamoto's mind.

That was a shamefully selfish thought.

If, if Goto Ichiri truly "volunteers" to become the new Soul King, then—

Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni slowly approached the Gate of the World. The massive black gate stood there like a sleeping beast, emitting an unsettling aura. He stretched out his withered hand, his fingertips lightly touching the cold metal surface.

A strange spiritual pressure came from inside the door. It was not a hostile oppressive feeling, but it carried an indescribable... sadness.

The selfish thought in Yamamoto's heart grew like wild weeds. If Goto Ichiri truly became the new Soul King... if she was truly willing to sacrifice herself... then Soul Society and the human world could continue to maintain stability, and the Shinigami of Seireitei could continue their current lives, continuing this rare "relaxed era."

This is……

The so-called peace.

Yamamoto passed through the gate and arrived at the Eye of the Soul King.

And then, that night, all the Shinigami of Soul Society felt it.

Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni.

died.

163

Chapter 163: Battlefield 1.

The war came suddenly.

It's as if there has never been peace in this world.

The once solemn and august Seireitei is now unrecognizable, its former majesty and sanctity gone, replaced by a chilling scene of desolation. Once majestic and imposing barracks now lie in ruins, bricks and rubble scattered across the ground. The uniform layout that once symbolized order has been shattered. Once smooth and paved roads are now riddled with gullies and cracks, like painful scars on the earth. The towering buildings that once soared into the sky, symbols of Seireitei's authority, now crumble and fall to the ground, collapsing like giants without support. The heavy thuds still echo in our ears. Once lush cherry trees, ravaged by the relentless flames of war, are broken in half, their pink petals scattered across the ground, stained with blood.

The air was filled with the sickening smell of blood and the pungent, burnt odor of burning buildings. The once clean air was now filled with the suffocating smell of death and destruction.

Broken blades and shattered Zanpakuto lay scattered among the ruins.

The broken walls bore traces of sword cuts and burnt marks.

The air was filled with the sickening smell of blood and the pungent smell of burning buildings.

Smoke filled the air, obscuring the sun. The once orderly Seireitei was now reduced to a scorched wasteland. Amidst the rubble, Shinigami gathered in groups of three or four, back to back, gazing warily around them. Their clothes were tattered, their bodies stained with dust and blood, their eyes filled with fear and despair. Some young Shinigami were so nervous that they trembled all over, their Zanpakutō unsteadily in their grasp.

They frantically resisted the Quincy that fell from the sky, and the scene was in chaos.

Quincies clad in white uniforms descended from the sky like white reapers. Wielding spirit bows, they continuously unleashed arrows gleaming with spiritual energy. The arrows pierced the air with a sharp whistling sound, like the death warrants of the Grim Reaper, reaping the lives of the Shinigami. The dense rain of arrows poured down like a torrential downpour, obscuring the sky above Seireitei.

"Damn Quincy! A sneak attack!"

A certain Shinigami clutched his bloodied left arm, screaming in agony. His face was stained with blood and dust, and his once pristine white Shinigami uniform was now stained red with blood, looking appalling. He gritted his teeth, enduring the excruciating pain as he brandished his Zanpakutō, attempting to fend off the Quincy's attack. However, he was outnumbered and was soon surrounded by even more Quincies.

The young Death God looked around in fear and shouted anxiously: "Where is the captain? Where is Captain Unohana?"

His voice was trembling so much that he seemed like he would collapse at any moment.

He desperately searched his surroundings, hoping to find Unohana Retsu. However, all he saw were his companions falling one after another, and countless enemies. Unconsciously, the chill of fear coiled around his heart like a poisonous snake, almost suffocating him. He desperately tried to control his trembling body, but found that he couldn't even hold his Zanpakutō steady. Despair surged into his heart like a tide, almost making him lose the will to fight. He stumbled back, dodging the flying arrows, the screams of his companions echoing in his ears, the scene of the burning squadron barracks floating before his eyes, and he felt an unprecedented fear and despair.

He kept calling out the captain's name, as if he was grasping at the last straw.

However, what responded to him was the heavy voice of a veteran death god: "Stop shouting!"

There was a hint of despair in the voice.

"The captains are all entangled by the Starry Knights!"

The voice of the veteran Grim Reaper was low and weak, like a lament coming from the depths of hell, completely shattering the last glimmer of hope in the young Grim Reaper's heart.

"Why-why did Starry's people suddenly become so strong!?"

The young Grim Reaper shouted unwillingly, and then his heart was pierced by the spirit arrow.

then……

His spiritual power was "usurped" by the Quincy that shot through him.

“—I see.”

Technology Development Bureau.

Kurotsuchi Mayuri did not go out to fight, but relied on the cameras he had set up in various places in the Seireitei over the years to observe the battlefield and came to his conclusion.

"It's a simplified version of the Sanctuary Usurpation... A move used by Yhwach a thousand years ago, and now it's being used by all Quincies?"

Mayuri Kurotsuchi licked his lips while being surrounded by the scarlet tongue, his eyes sparkling.

"Usurping... interesting abilities, but ultimately, they're a bunch of idiots who don't know how to use them."

From what Kurotsuchi Mayuri could see, these Quincies hadn't even erased the memories from their spiritual energy—if it were Kurotsuchi Mayuri, he would have definitely used a more efficient method to absorb that spiritual energy.

“…It’s a really crude application.”

Kurotsuchi Mayuri muttered to himself as he controlled the robotic arm to import the collected spirit particle data into the analyzer.

"With this level of spiritual particle fusion, even the most basic spiritual pressure cannot be stabilized. What a waste of the power of the Death God. If only this spiritual power could be used..."

"boom!"

A loud explosion interrupted Kurotsuchi Mayuri's thoughts. A large hole had been blown open on the roof of the Technology Development Bureau, sending rubble and dust raining down. Kurotsuchi Mayuri frowned in disgust. The dust stained his white lab coat, an intolerable blasphemy to him.

He slowly raised his head and looked at the figure that slowly fell from the hole. The white Quincy uniform, the voluptuous figure, and the face that made him sick—Yanami Kyouna.

"Hey, perverted scientist, I didn't expect you to be still alive."

Yana saw Xingna smiling contemptuously, the spirit bow in her hand flashing with a dangerous light.

"I thought you were hiding in a gutter, shivering."

"Yanami Kyouna, you unintelligent female gorilla."

Kurotsuchi Mayuri's voice was icy cold. "How dare you interrupt my research? You'll have to serve as a test subject for at least three hundred years to atone for this sin."