"Aren't you going to start running, Mr. Szayelaporro?"
Fujimiya Makoto spoke calmly, pointing at the number [3] displayed above both his and Szayelaporro's heads, smiling faintly. "My script has never been fair, you know."
Almost the moment his words fell, every muscle in Szayelaporro's body tensed up.
Run!
The instant the thought flashed through her mind, her body twisted to the side, and with a thunderous boom, she activated Sonído, instinctively beginning a frantic escape.
I can't be caught!
Absolutely cannot be caught!
Even though she had no idea what an "Anti-Demon Ninja" was, or why she had turned into this form, the mere mention of "experiment" was enough to set off every alarm in her mind.
She knew all too well just how many ways a "researcher" in their own laboratory could kill an enemy.
At the very least… I have to get out of here first!
"BOOM—"
But the moment Szayelaporro dashed past the intersection ahead, she saw thick, inky-black tendrils surging like a tidal wave, clogging the path forward, endlessly writhing toward her. They smashed through the steel walls with deafening crashes.
"Damn it!"
Szayelaporro's hand extended into a bone blade, slashing forward—but the severed tendril was immediately replaced by another.
"Szayel! These things are being controlled by that guy!"
"Take him out first!"
Ilforte roared, his voice laced with urgency.
This was the first time either of them had encountered such an abnormal Zanpakutō—and the first time their very bodies had been altered.
For the Granz brothers, who had once thought "playing with the Hōgyoku's gift made them the maddest researchers in the world," this rule-based Zanpakutō was like a cultural shock—akin to an elderly elf from the pleasure district introducing a naive orc to the wonders of the world.
"Idiot! Feel your own spiritual pressure!"
Szayelaporro was undoubtedly the wisest among the Espada.
Unlike the others who had died in the "Pleasure World" without ever understanding the rules, she had sensed the change in her spiritual pressure the moment she arrived.
"Our spiritual pressure… has been balanced out by that Shinigami!"
"Do you really think you can kill him in his own domain, with equal spiritual pressure?!"
Even Szayelaporro's mind was in disarray.
Unlike that fool Ilforte, she had carefully read all the [Rules].
The mere thought of her body being strung up by those massive black tendrils and subjected to that made her feel like her head was about to split open.
What kind of torture is this?!
Unacceptable!
I'd rather die than accept this!
Right now, all she wanted was to find the "escape route" mentioned in the rules.
Despite being a bona fide mad alchemist, Szayelaporro—now a Vasto Lorde—had regained a considerable degree of "humanity."
And humanity meant this: If there was another way to escape, she would never choose a head-on fight.
And that was exactly the choice Fujimiya Makoto was steering her toward.
"A thousand hands of the distant skies, unable to touch the darkened honored hands. Unseen archer of the heavens, light-scattering path, wind that fans the flames. Gather and converge without hesitation—heed my command."
"Lightning Blast of a Thousand Skies: Ninety-One, Senju Kōten Taihō!"
Shattering cherry-blossom-hued arrows of light coalesced around Fujimiya as he completed the incantation. Guided by his blade, they all aimed at Szayelaporro's fleeing figure.
Sensing the violent surge of spiritual pressure from behind, Szayelaporro—still charging forward—suddenly sliced through the last tendril blocking her path. At the same time, the wings on her back abruptly spread open, and the cyst-like protrusions within them spewed a massive amount of ink-like fluid.
The corrosive liquid seemed capable of dissolving even spiritual pressure, swallowing and detonating the light projectiles upon contact.
When the smoke cleared, all that remained were massive craters—and a vertical gash in the wall.
[Firing doesn't mean you're capable—hitting the mark makes you a real man.]
[Kidō +10]
Fujimiya's gaze swept over the passage, lingering on the scattered bodily fragments left behind. Feeling the faint increase in his spiritual pressure, a slow smile spread across his face.
As expected.
In this chase, all he had to do was drive his prey to exhaustion—like a hunter pursuing a bleeding animal—and capturing them would be effortless.
No matter how the "script" changed, it was ultimately just a "fair" stage for both sides to vie for spiritual pressure.
What truly mattered wasn't the outcome—but the resolve to fight to the death.
And clearly…
Szayelaporro's problem was that she was too smart—too adept at exploiting the rules.
She would never fight desperately.
So…
"Destructive Art #63: Raikōhō!"
"Destructive Art #73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"
One Kidō after another erupted from Fujimiya's hands.
Driven like a stray dog, Szayelaporro burst through corridor after corridor, wall after wall, frantically scanning her surroundings for directions—up, down, left, right—desperately searching for the real exit.
This is an escape scenario!
There has to be a way out!
Just as those with superior strength and physique instinctively relied on their bodies, someone as intelligent as Szayelaporro instinctively turned to her intellect for solutions.
But it was her "foolish" brother who realized the problem first.
"Szayel! We can't keep running!"
"Haven't you noticed? Our spiritual pressure keeps dropping!"
"If this goes on, we won't even make it to the exit—we'll be blasted to death halfway!"
Ilforte's voice was hoarse from shouting.
"Shut up!" Szayelaporro snapped, still refusing to accept reality. "I'm close to finding the right path! I'm almost—"
"Szayel! What the hell are you so afraid of?!" Ilforte suddenly roared.
For a brief moment, Szayelaporro froze.
Then, Ilforte forcibly seized control of their body, bone blades sprouting from all four limbs.
Just as his brother had said, he was an irredeemable idiot.