Killed For 100 Years in Hueco Mundo, Aizen Invited Me To Soul Society!-Chapter 341: Awakened Sinner

In the Technology Development Bureau, chatter buzzed among the researchers.

Their conversations flowed naturally from one topic to another, beginning with whether their captain would be imprisoned in the Muken, and drifting toward speculation about the criminals already sealed within.

The moment Ah Jin mentioned the name "Azashiro Soya," a weight seemed to descend upon the room. Every researcher fell silent, their expressions turning grim.

They all understood the gravity of that name.

Azashiro Soya.

The Eighth Kenpachi.

A name once synonymous with unchallenged strength. The one called Kenpachi Azashiro, a terrifying title in its own right. Kenpachi—a title bestowed only upon the mightiest shinigami.

His strength was beyond question, an embodiment of carnage. Coupled with Aizen Sosuke’s imprisonment in Muken more than a year ago, the mention of Kenpachi Azashiro brought dread.

After all, anyone incarcerated in Muken wasn’t just a criminal. They were a force of nature.

The kind of being that, once unleashed, could rend worlds.

(T.L. Note: Rend is not a typo, it means tear)

If those who had fled Hueco Mundo were ever captured and judged for their crimes, the Technology Bureau researchers were certain of one thing:

They wouldn’t be executed.

They’d be thrown into Infernal Affairs—Muken.

Just then, the Bureau’s internal sirens wailed, their piercing sound echoing through the lab halls.

*BZZZZZT!*

"What’s going on?! A false alarm?"

Hiyosu and several others whipped around toward the alarm monitors. For a brief moment, every soul in the room silently prayed it was a system malfunction.

Because a disturbance like this was anything but routine.

Niko, pushing up her glasses, muttered, "This... this just manifested in our world..."

All eyes locked onto the screens.

And their breath collectively hitched.

Massive, irregular readings were appearing on the detectors. The data confirmed that a large group of arrancar had just entered the Soul Society.

Not a handful. Not a strike team.

Hundreds.

"Impossible." someone whispered.

The screens blinked urgently, confirming the shocking report. The arrancar presence wasn’t centralized. They were scattered across all of Rukongai’s districts.

And worst of all, they had surrounded Seireitei—even with the barrier of Murderous Stones active.

"Is Hueco Mundo launching a full-scale invasion?!"

Panic rippled through the researchers. The Soul Society had launched a massive assault on Hueco Mundo over a year ago. A counterattack wasn’t unthinkable.

Still, while the Bureau staff were agitated, the Gotei 13 remained composed. Thanks to a prior alert issued when large numbers of arrancar had previously appeared in Karakura Town, preparations were already in place.

The captains and lieutenants had mobilized.

And so, the battle began.

But what they encountered shocked even seasoned warriors.

These arrancar weren’t soldiers.

They were children.

At least, that’s how they looked. Their appearances were eerily youthful, almost innocent. A few even resembled the young of non-human creatures. Despite their hollow masks and spiritual pressure, something was off.

They were weak. Pathetically so.

Nothing like the battle-hardened arrancar they were used to facing.

"What the hell is this...?"

More puzzling, the arrancar were disoriented. Their thoughts were fragmented, simplistic. In their mutterings, many repeated a cryptic phrase:

"Followed the silk threads... the silk... we followed them here..."

Silk threads?

The term baffled the shinigami.

But somewhere deep beneath Seireitei—in the suffocating, pitch-black abyss of Muken—a monster awoke.

The man was labeled a first-degree criminal by Central 46. His very name had been struck from records.

And now, with a mere flutter of eyelids, he stirred the silence of eternity.

A voice greeted him immediately, shrill and maniacal.

"Hee-hop! Hee-ha-ha! It’s been so long! You haven’t opened your eyes in centuries! Or was it seconds? Two hundred and fifty years? Maybe five hundred? Or twenty thousand? Or did you blink just now? Hee-ha! Hee-haha!"

Her cackling echoed off the black walls, maddening in its rhythm.

The man said nothing. But slowly, his eyes opened fully.

And with them, the darkness lit up faintly.

Light bathed only the floor he stood on—a floor of obsidian material unique to Muken.

Nothing else was visible. The ceiling, the walls, all were lost in impenetrable shadow.

Yet, within that dark void, he saw her.

A woman in a pristine white kimono. A black leather band covered her eyes. Gold ornaments sparkled across her wrists and collar. She tilted her head and smiled, dazed and delighted.

"Oh! Yes yes yes yes! After Aizen was defeated by the shinigami agent, then sealed away by Kisuke Urahara himself, the 3rd Seat of the Second Division, who was promoted to captain of the Twelfth and took over First Generation Technology Bureau! But he was framed by Aizen, and cast out of Soul Society!"

She twirled with glee.

"Then! Because of all that chaos, they sentenced him to twenty thousand years in Muken! That was the last time you opened your eyes! Soooo... why now? Huh? Why wake up now?"

The man didn’t respond to her tone. He simply murmured:

"A filament ran into my body."

"Filament? Oh? Is this going to be one of those topics? Should I get excited?"

He replied flatly. "It’s not something exciting. Its spirit sons... no. Negación silk."

The woman’s head jerked in curiosity, but the man no longer looked at her.

He stood motionless, yet the feeling of a storm gathering emanated from his body.

"...Wait and see. Then decide. Is it time to leave this place?"

He wasn’t bound by the prison.

The prison was bound by him.

...

Meanwhile, in Hueco Mundo—

Szayelaporro’s screams had finally faded.

Mazuru pulled back his consciousness, letting out a sigh.

"Truly a genius." he muttered.

The experiments. The madness. The obsession.

Even in torment, Szayelaporro had impressed him.

Especially when he revealed the workings of Roka.

A terrifying ability. One capable of encoding memory, intellect, and personality into threads of Negación silk.

If the original host were destroyed, Roka could reconstitute them, piece by piece. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Memory, thought, instincts.

Eventually, the personality of Szayelaporro would override Roka’s entirely.

A soul overwritten by data.

Not merely reincarnation.

Something far more terrifying.

Rebirth by design.

A chill wind swept through the white sands of Hueco Mundo.

And somewhere in the dark corridors of the Soul Society, the silk threads continued to drift—toward chaos.

*****

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