Omniverse: The Martial Artist

The memories from his childhood flashed through Hao's mind once again.

Those scenes haunted him through countless long nights—he hated those people, and he also hated how powerless he had once been.

Was it self-loathing?

Hao pondered the question.

There was indeed a long period in his life where guilt had eaten away at him.

But he had moved past that.

Because he knew—his master and senior sister wouldn't want to see him stuck in place.

He would avenge them.

More than that, he would climb to the peak of the martial path.

Still… if it wasn't self-loathing, and if he was certain that he was human, then why did he see those disturbing visions in the depths of his soul?

By the time class ended, Hao had made no progress in resonating with his Zanpakutō.

He could only decide to give it another deep attempt tonight.

There were too many people around during class. Aizen had a lot of secrets that couldn't be casually shared.

Even though he had admitted to Hao that he already knew how to use Shikai, he'd never once demonstrated it in front of their teacher or classmates.

---

That night, Hao returned to the dorms with a slightly tired body—and climbed straight into bed.

But he wasn't planning to sleep.

Today's lesson with Captain Unohana had only scratched the surface, so he still had plenty of stamina left.

He decided that tonight, he would thoroughly investigate the issue of his Zanpakutō—or rather, his own soul.

Before he began, he glanced at his current status panel:

Explorer No. 404040404, your base stats are as follows:

Constitution: 17 (+2)

Strength: 16 (+1)

Agility: 17 (+2)

Spirit: 22 (+2)

Charisma: 6

Luck: 1

His stats had undergone notable changes.

The increase in Constitution came from being repeatedly slashed by Unohana over the past two months—his body had developed resistance through cycles of destruction and regeneration.

Agility had risen thanks to his development and mastery of Shunpo—his neural response speed had improved significantly as a result of adapting to high-speed movement.

Strength had improved the least, mostly because he hadn't focused on strength-specific training.

As for Spirit, while he hadn't trained it as much, the meditation techniques passed down by Shin'ō Academy were undeniably effective at raising both Reiatsu and spiritual awareness.

Unlike other forms of physical training, improving Reiatsu was a pure numbers game—so the stat gains showed more clearly in his attributes.

It's worth explaining that all his stat increases were indirectly tied to his Reiatsu growth.

But the Spirit stat was the most directly linked.

Currently, the academy had assessed his Reiatsu level as Rank 16.

But Hao felt like he was only just barely scraping the threshold of that rank.

Aizen had once said that he was able to unlock his Shikai when he reached Rank 17 Reiatsu.

That was probably a lie—but based on Aizen's subtle tone when he said it, Hao suspected that if Aizen had owned an Asauchi back then, he absolutely could've activated Shikai at that stage.

Which meant—there was no reason he couldn't do the same.

With that in mind, Hao calmed his heart and began using the resonance method taught by the academy, directing his consciousness into the depths of his soul.

Seeing that Hao had entered a focused state, Aizen turned off the lights in the room ahead of time—and began his own nightly training.

---

At that moment, Hao felt as if he were walking beneath a vast, pitch-black sky.

There was no road ahead.

No way back.

He didn't know if he had found the right key… but this time, the resonance felt different.

After taking a single step forward—

He suddenly felt a strong sensation of weightlessness.

Then, it was as if the entire world began to shake.

Whispers once again echoed in his ears, accompanied by chilling wails that made the blood run cold.

Falling. He kept falling.

Hao had never fallen this deep into the "abyss" before.

His survival instincts screamed at him to end the resonance, to stop descending—but his curiosity about the secrets buried in the depths of his soul made him endure and keep going.

It was as if he had broken through some kind of barrier.

His vision blurred for a split second—then, clarity returned.

And he saw it—

Purgatory.

A purgatory of deep violet and black, with endless purple-black flames churning in rivers of magma.

The flames twisted like living creatures, devouring the surrounding air, roaring with deafening intensity.

The sky was choked with heavy smoke.

Occasionally, dark red lightning would tear across the heavens, briefly illuminating the tormented faces of the wailing souls below.

Amid the boundless heat and agony stood a massive cage, forged from hardened lava.

Purple-black runes like vines crawled along its surface, pulsing with dark power.

At the base of the cage, a dark red gate slowly creaked open.

Beyond the gate was an abyss of unfathomable darkness.

Chains clinked and echoed from within.

Once the door opened, the wailing ceased.

The world suddenly quieted, leaving only the sounds of magma crashing and flames surging.

That door seemed to possess a strange, magnetic pull—Hao felt compelled to step forward.

And strangely enough, with a single step, he crossed the rivers of magma and flame, arriving directly before the cage.

A cage?

Hao frowned in puzzlement. Why did I instinctively feel this is a cage?

In front of him was nothing more than a mound of lava—a misshapen heap of rock and molten stone.

Yet even before the door opened, he knew it was a cage.

He stepped closer and peered into the dark red gate.

All he could see was endless blackness.

Just then, as magma roared and flame columns erupted behind him, a crimson glow illuminated the interior.

And in that flash—Hao saw it.

A shadow, pitch black and colossal, bound in countless chains.

The chains appeared to be forged from divine metal, glowing faintly with a cold light.

That imprisoned form was like an abyss—dark and bottomless.

And as if sensing Hao's gaze—it slowly raised its head.

In the flickering light of the flames, Hao saw its sunken eyes—

Cold.

Cruel.

Brimming with an undying hatred that no amount of time could wash away.

At that moment, the wind picked up.

The winds of purgatory, hot and reeking of sulfur, swept ash and scorched earth into the air.

They spiraled through Hao's ghostly form and poured into the cage, blanketing the being within.

But even buried beneath the ash, its presence—its majesty—could not be diminished.

This is… my Zanpakutō?

A mix of realization and confusion swelled in Hao's heart.

He couldn't help but ask, "What is your name?"

The figure in the cage locked eyes with him—

But no words came in response.

Instead, it roared.

ROAR—

The sound tore through the realms like it could shatter heaven and earth—

A roar steeped in hatred, carried across countless eons.

It was savage.

It was deranged.

And it was… lonely.

As this demonic figure roared, the entire purgatory shook.

The sky collapsed. The ground split apart.

Magma surged like a tidal wave.

Flames erupted into the air like blazing meteors.

Hao stood still before the cage.

Behind him, a towering wall of magma threatened to engulf the world.

Purple-black flames curled around his body like dancing spirits.

In this apocalyptic scene, Hao did not flinch.

He stared calmly into the cage, meeting the eyes of the imprisoned shadow.

Just as he was about to speak again—

A storm of wind erupted beneath his feet and swept him into the sky.

The world spun violently—

And then, with a jolt, he opened his eyes in bed.

He had been kicked out—expelled from the vision by that demonic god-like figure.

Lifting his gaze, he saw that the sky outside was already growing light.

°°°