After carefully considering the entire situation, Szayelaporro Granz returned to Las Noches once more.
It was only then that Baraggan finally learned the true name of the "Shinigami invaders."
Seated upon his high throne, the skeletal king's face betrayed no human emotion, though the faint rasp in his voice hinted at his inner thoughts.
"So... this new Soul Society organization called the 'Gotei 13' is the one responsible for the recent mass slaughter of Menos in Hueco Mundo?"
"Precisely, Lord Baraggan," Szayelaporro replied, his tone as theatrically amused as ever, his smile unwavering. "However, based on their words, this isn't just a matter of a new or old organization."
"If what they say is true... then this 'Gotei 13' has likely already unified the entire Soul Society."
"And among them, there are at least thirteen individuals whose strength rivals that of Vasto Lordes."
"Perhaps... even stronger."
Even a madman like Szayelaporro couldn't help but show a trace of wariness when discussing the "unification of Soul Society."
Anyone with half a brain—or in his case, a mask growing on his crotch—could understand the sheer military might required to conquer an entire world in this power-driven hierarchy.
Moreover, he had personally fought against several of those who called themselves "captains." He knew full well that these were no mere pretenders—they possessed genuine combat prowess. Just the few who had appeared in Hueco Mundo had already thrown the entire ecosystem into chaos.
If the Soul Society were to deploy its full force... the consequences for Las Noches would be catastrophic.
And perhaps...
Szayelaporro's gaze flickered subtly toward Baraggan, lost in thought upon his throne.
How would the one who unified Soul Society compare to Lord Baraggan's strength?
The mere thought made his lips curl into an uncontrollable, manic grin.
This world truly is fascinating.
"Unified... is it?"
As a "king," Baraggan naturally harbored ambitions of ruling all of Hueco Mundo.
But.
Hollows were beasts.
Now, hearing that the Soul Society—a realm parallel to Hueco Mundo—already had a true ruler, Baraggan's emotions were indescribably complex.
That said, he wasn't so foolish as to miss the undercurrents in his subordinate's words.
Baraggan turned to Szayelaporro and spoke calmly:
"So, this is your excuse for failure?"
"Not at all, Lord Baraggan."
"On the contrary, I already have a plan to kill them all."
"Even for the Soul Society, losing four Vasto Lorde-level combatants would be a devastating blow, no?"
Szayelaporro's smile widened, as if he were watching puppets dance into his trap—no matter how many times he orchestrated such schemes, he never tired of the thrill, the... superiority of intellect.
"However, this plan requires your participation as well."
"Oh?" Baraggan's interest was finally piqued, the dark hollows of his skull gleaming faintly. "Then speak."
"As you wish."
---
Beep! Beep-beep-beep!
At almost the exact same moment, Fujimiya Makoto and Saitō's Automated Processing Devices chimed in unison. The mirror-like screens flickered with multiple red dots, the incessant noise grating on their nerves.
Meanwhile, Harribel—curled up on the sand nearby—perked up like a cat hearing the dinner bell, her gaze flicking eagerly toward the two of them.
These past few dozen days had likely been the most peaceful and fulfilling period of her existence since becoming a Hollow.
Fujimiya and Saitō, however, frowned at their screens in displeasure.
"More Adjuchas?"
"Strange."
"Hasn't the frequency of alerts been unusually high lately?"
Saitō wasn't just complaining for no reason. Over the past few days, they'd received three to four alerts daily—far more than normal.
Hueco Mundo's desolate expanse dwarfed even the Soul Society in sheer scale.
The scenery along their patrols consisted solely of endless dunes and withered branches—a monotonous wasteland they'd long grown sick of. Each trip spanned dozens, if not hundreds, of kilometers, consuming most of their time.
The actual fights against the Menos were laughably easy—one slash, one kill.
Even Saitō, who thrived on battle, was growing weary of the routine.
It's just not fun anymore!
"Be careful."
"Something feels off."
Fujimiya studied the distribution of red and green dots on the screen, his brow furrowed.
He'd noticed that not only were the Hollows appearing unusually far away, but the Expeditionary Force's deployment was also spread too thin.
If something went wrong, reinforcements wouldn't arrive in time before the attacking Menos slaughtered everyone.
But...
Fujimiya recalled Kimboshi Gonryutei's usual stern expression and shook his head slowly.
This is probably part of Captain Kimboshi's strategy.
Rather than sacrificing the entire unit's efficiency, he was willing to let the Shinigami take some risks.
The first-generation captains who had survived that brutal era all shared this ruthless decisiveness.
Saitō seemed to sense something too, her lips pursed slightly.
When it came to combat, this usually airheaded girl had unnervingly sharp instincts.
Still, at Fujimiya's warning, she just snorted dismissively:
"You're the one who needs to be careful."
"Don't drag this old lady down!"
[Then let me lick your feet~]
"Hah?" Saitō turned sharply.
Fujimiya kept a perfectly straight face:
"What?"
"I didn't say anything."
Saitō scrutinized him for a moment before huffing.
...I'll let him off just this once.
Not because he'd actually use his snake tongue to lick!
---
By the time they arrived at the signal's location at top speed, they found a relatively small Adjuchas chasing a squad of Expeditionary Force members.
Most were ordinary soldiers, with the squad leader barely at the fifth or sixth seat level—utterly outmatched against an Adjuchas.
In their desperate retreat, the original fifteen-member squad had been whittled down to six survivors, all wounded.
Then—Fujimiya and Saitō appeared before them.
The lead Shinigami's eyes widened, his face lighting up with relief as he roared:
"It's Captain Saitō and Vice-Captain Fujimiya!"
"Counterattack!"
"Don't let that bastard escape!"