"Listen up, boys—it's time to stretch some muscles!"
Ikkaku Madarame charged to the front of the formation without hesitation.
"Cut every last one of these trash heaps into reishi!"
The Eleventh Division members roared back in unison, their eyes burning with excitement.
These were the most elite members under the seated officers of Eleventh Division—men whose hunger for battle was slowly catching up to that of Kenpachi Zaraki himself.
Especially under Ikkaku's lead, that battle lust burned hotter than ever.
This Hueco Mundo expedition had brought thirty Eleventh Division members under the command of Third Seat Ikkaku Madarame and Fifth Seat Yumichika Ayasegawa.
Aside from the one man they had lost earlier in the White Sands to Runuganga's ambush, all thirty-one charged headlong into the swarm of Menos Grande.
Each swing of a Zanpakutō felled a Gillian, their massive bodies breaking apart into spirit particles and dissipating into the air.
The mindless Gillians knew nothing of fear—they only obeyed the orders of the more advanced Menos:
Devour every intruder!
The war between Shinigami and Menos erupted instantly.
No bursts of Hadō, no tangles of Bakudō—only raw slashes laced with immense spiritual pressure.
Ikkaku bellowed with laughter, slamming his Zanpakutō against its sheath as he called its true name.
"Bloom, Fuji Kujaku!"
The battle entered a fever pitch. One after another, thirty Eleventh Division members unleashed their Shikai.
While their destructive power was… varied, it still boosted their fighting strength.
Hundreds of Gillians poured from the darkness, their towering black forms cloaked like elongated capes, emotionless masks gleaming above.
Their cavernous jaws opened as they let out hoarse, guttural roars—
The sound carried far into the forest.
"Shut the hell up!" Ikkaku snarled, leaping high into the air.
A faint red glow of spiritual power flickered over his muscular frame as he flashed across the sky—
Several Gillians split cleanly down the middle, dissolving into spirit particles before they even hit the ground.
For a moment, a huge gap opened in the enemy's ranks—but before the Shinigami could take a breath, more Gillians surged forward to fill it.
They could kill endlessly, and still more would come.
The Eleventh Division Shinigami soon became lost in the crimson haze of battle frenzy. Layer after layer of Gillians fell, their spirit particles scattering back into Hueco Mundo's embrace.
At some point, several dozen shadowy figures appeared atop the towering quartz trees around them.
They were terrifying to behold—living testaments to the strange wonders of creation—yet shared a common trait:
Jagged Hollow masks fused to their cheeks, revealing rows of densely packed, razor-sharp teeth.
"Their fighting style is just like the last group of Shinigami that entered the Forest of Menos."
"Doesn't matter. They'll die here all the same."
"The delicious souls of Shinigami… I can almost taste them."
Their overlapping voices echoed above the forest canopy.
Yumichika's eyes narrowed in recognition.
These Menos were driving the Gillians to whittle down the Shinigami's spiritual pressure, planning to strike only at the decisive moment to wipe them all out.
In the Forest of Menos, Gillians were the most common—and the most expendable—fodder.
The Gillians fighting in the front lines continued to throw themselves into the slaughter, while those in the rear opened their jaws wide, gathering crimson spiritual power into their throats.
A red glow swelled into massive orbs—the Gillians' strongest attack.
The crimson beams flared like pillars of light, lancing through the gaps in the front ranks and streaking straight toward the Shinigami.
"Hadō #31: Shakkahō (Red Flame Cannon)!"
The unified cry rang out from behind Eleventh lunatics, a surge of spiritual energy swelling at their backs.
Before Ikkaku and the others could even turn, a wave of searing heat washed over them.
Dozens of blazing red fireballs streaked past, colliding head-on with the incoming Cero.
A chain of deafening explosions erupted at the point of impact, the dazzling light bright enough to illuminate the entire Forest of Menos.
The Eleventh Division fighters stared in shock at the Fourth Division members behind them—
These so-called "support division" medics were unleashing terrifying combat strength.
Even without incantation, their Hadō #31 spells had blocked a coordinated Cero barrage from dozens of Gillians.
What the fuck is happening to this world?!
Rokushima Yusuke and the others panted lightly, faces lit with exhilaration.
The stunned looks from the other squads—that was a respect earned through raw power.
Nel buried her face deep into Shimo's chest, not daring to peek out.
The endless explosions, slashes, and roars outside felt like the end of the world.
Only the warmth of this embrace could give her any sense of safety.
Shimo smiled, patting her head before turning a sharp gaze on Rokushima Yusuke.
"Prepare for combat."
"Let the so-called battle division and these Menos see—"
His smile curved into something dangerous.
"—what real fighting looks like."
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