Reincarnated in Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

Rodrigo

Everything around me was an endless void. There was no light, sound, or any sense of warmth or cold. Just absolute darkness.

I opened my eyes, or at least I thought I did, but nothing changed. An uncomfortable feeling took over me—the sense of being completely alone, trapped in a place with no beginning or end. My body felt nonexistent. I couldn't feel my arms, legs, or any part of me.

"What... happened?" My voice echoed, but it sounded strange, muffled, coming from somewhere distant.

The memories were jumbled. I remember facing the Dark Keeper, the intense fight, the constellations' reactions... and then everything became blurry. Zangetsu. He took over.

"Zangetsu..." the name slipped from my lips like a whisper, but even as I said it, nothing happened. The darkness remained relentless, and a faint fear began to creep into the depths of my mind. What if I never left here?

I began to try to recall exactly what had happened. The mask. The fight. The overwhelming sensation of power that wasn't mine. I knew there was a risk in letting Zangetsu take over, but I had no choice. He promised to help me, but did he overdo it? Did this cost me more than just control?

"I am..." I tried to say something more, but I felt a pressure on my mind. A presence. Something or someone was here with me, even though I couldn't see it.

Suddenly, a distant point of light appeared in the darkness. It was small, but it shone with an odd intensity. My heart—or what I thought was my heart—started to beat faster. It was reassuring to see something beyond the darkness, even if it was so insignificant.

"Finally, we meet again… Don't we, Rodrigão!?"

The voice hit me like a sharp blade, cutting through any remnants of calm I might have had in that void. It echoed in all directions, deep, dripping with sarcasm, but with a terrifying familiarity. I knew whose voice it was.

I knew.

The mocking smile forming in my mind as the voice echoed was unmistakable. A figure I swore I would never see again. A figure I should never face again.

"I... impossible!" I stammered, my own voice trembling and full of disbelief.

The laughter followed. A low, growing laugh that spread throughout the void like a plague.

"What's up, Rodrigão? Gonna ignore me again? Before you have your little chat with that damn sword, I feel like having a chat with you!"

And then, everything around me changed. The dark void was replaced by an intense, almost blinding light that began to illuminate a surreal space. The floor was made of polished marble, reflecting the light in a supernatural way. In the distance, white pillars supported... nothing. They just rose up toward a non-existent sky.

And right in the center of that scene, he was there.

Arthur.

His skin was so pale it seemed made of ice, his short blonde hair vibrant to the point of being impossible to ignore. He wore blue pants and a white shirt with the words: "Praise be to God." But what bothered me the most, what made my breath catch, was the black rectangle covering his eyes.

It was him. Even with the strange and out-of-place appearance, I knew it was him.

My mind spun in a whirlwind of thoughts. He shouldn't be here. There's no way he could be here. I knew him... and that was enough to freeze my body—or whatever I was in that moment.

"Arthur..." I murmured, not sure if I was calling his name or trying to confirm the reality in front of me.

He took a few more steps, the smile widening even more as he casually crossed his arms.

"Ah, so you remember me. How exciting!" He leaned slightly forward, as if assessing me. "But what's with that face, Rodrigão? Do you think I'm a ghost or something? Relax, I don't bite... I mean, not anymore."

My hands instinctively clenched into fists, but my mind was in complete chaos. The last time I saw Arthur... No, I didn't want to remember. Not now.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice laced with tension.

He tilted his head to the side, as if the question was irrelevant. "Does the reason even matter? What matters is that I'm here. And so are you. Now…" He took a step forward, the light around us seeming to dim slightly. "… let's talk about you. About us."

"You shouldn't be here!" I shouted, my voice echoing with a rage I could barely contain. My words came out like thunder, a scream of pure frustration and repressed fear. "You have no right to be here, Arthur!"

He stepped forward, still wearing that annoyingly calm, mocking smile. It was as if every word I said was music to his ears. He didn't even blink.

"Ah, there's the Rodrigão I know," he replied, crossing his arms theatrically. "Always shouting, always trying to look tough. It's funny... you haven't changed a bit."

"Why are you here?!" I insisted, my voice now hoarse from shouting. I could feel my breath heavy, my blood boiling in my veins—or whatever it was that made me feel alive in this place.

He laughed, tilting his head back before locking eyes with me again. "Why do you always think the right question is 'why'?" He raised a finger, waving it in the air as if explaining something to a child. "The real question, Rodrigão, is 'how.' How I'm here. How you're here."

"Don't come at me with riddles, Arthur!" I snarled, taking a step forward. "Do you think I care about that? I just want you to get the hell out of my face!"

He shrugged, feigning indifference, but his voice stayed sharp and sarcastic, making my blood boil. "Oh, Rodrigão... always so dramatic. You scream, you struggle, but you don't even realize what's happening around you, do you?"

Suddenly, he pointed at me with a casual gesture. "Tell me, have you noticed that you've returned to your true form?"

What?

His words hit me like a blow to the chest. My gaze immediately fell to my hands. These weren't the hands I had in Ichigo's body, the ones familiar with spiritual power and superhuman strength. No. These were my hands.

My brown skin, the small calluses from times I'd tried to do something physically demanding. The insignificant scars from cuts I couldn't even remember how I got. I didn't need a mirror to know what he meant.

I was back in my original body.

"Surprised?" Arthur asked, his voice dripping with malice as he did a small spin, as if presenting a theatrical revelation. "There he is... the mixed-race boy, friendless, searching for meaning in his miserable life."

My hands trembled. Not from weakness, but from pure anger.

"Shut up," I muttered, my voice low but full of intensity.

Arthur ignored me, as he always did. He pointed at me again, now walking slowly, each step seeming deliberate. "You really don't remember, do you? It was you who came to me, Rodrigão. It was you who begged for a deal. All because you wanted to save your mom."

"SHUT UP!" My scream tore through the air, reverberating through the space like thunder.

"Why? Does the truth hurt too much, Rodrigão?" He laughed, leaning forward, arms wide as if welcoming me back. "Want me to refresh your memory? You, all alone in that house, unable to do anything while she... while your mom..."

Before he could finish, I lunged at him, trying to grab him. But Arthur vanished before I could reach him, reappearing a few steps behind, still wearing that smug smile.

"Calm down, Rodrigão. Calm down. We haven't even started yet."

Arthur remained still, the smile on his face like an impenetrable mask. He tilted his head slightly to the side, as if analyzing every piece of my expression.

"You know, Rodrigão," he began, his voice laced with a casual tone that only made my anger grow, "we had an agreement, remember? I gave you what you wanted... and in return, you were supposed to do your part. But, well... you broke that agreement, didn't you? Pretended nothing happened. Left me behind."

"I never asked you for anything!" I snarled, cutting him off.

He raised his hands, as if trying to calm someone completely out of control. "Oh, but you did. And you know what's funny? It hurt, you know? It really hurt to be betrayed like that. But hey... that's life, right?"

My breath was heavy, my fists clenched. Every fiber of my being screamed for me to do something, anything, to end that irritating smile. But he wouldn't stop. He never stopped.

"Don't give me that 'it hurt' nonsense," I spat the words, each one dripping with contempt. "You have no idea what I've been through, what I..."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong," Arthur interrupted, stepping forward. His smile was still there, but now there was something darker in his eyes, something menacing. "I know exactly what you've been through. I was there, remember? An agreement's an agreement, Rodrigão. No escaping that."

The silence between us was suffocating. I glared at him, feeling the hatred boiling inside me, but he didn't stop.

"Now, before you start cursing me again, let me clear something up: I don't hate you," Arthur continued, spinning theatrically. "In fact, I kinda like you. I always thought it was funny how you were willing to do anything to reach your goals. You remind me a lot of... well, me."

"Go to hell," I murmured, my voice icy.

Arthur laughed, a sound full of sarcasm. "Oh, Rodrigão... you really haven't changed a bit. But you know, just because I don't hate you doesn't mean I'm not up for... how should I put this? Watching you suffer a little."

My jaw clenched, my teeth grinding in anger. I didn't reply, but my gaze spoke volumes.

"Oh, there he is," Arthur said, pointing directly at me. "The real Rodrigão. Not the lost, crying kid who begged for help, but the one willing to do anything. Someone who doesn't care about others, just about what's convenient. Just like me."

His words were like knives, each one cutting deep. I wanted to deny it, wanted to scream that he was wrong, but... I couldn't. My silence seemed to feed him even more.

Arthur stepped forward, standing face to face with me. I could feel the metallic taste of the air around us, like something big was about to happen.

"So, Rodrigão," he whispered, still smiling, "what's it going to be? Are you going to keep pretending you're better than me... or are you finally going to accept who you really are?"

My only response was the glare I gave him, a glare full of pure hatred. A look that said everything words couldn't.

"How are you here?" I asked, my voice sounding rougher than I intended. "When I was teleported, when I had that conversation with... that being, you didn't show up. You did nothing. How the hell are you here now, Arthur?"

He smiled again, that mocking grin that seemed to be part of his essence. "Oh, Rodrigão, you really don't get it, do you? I was always here. Inside you. In your soul. Watching, waiting..."

"Waiting for what?" I interrupted him, my voice almost a shout.

He tilted his head slightly, as if explaining something to a child. "Waiting for you to do something interesting, of course. You know that being you respect so much? He saw me. But he decided to ignore me, as if I were some insignificant detail. Believe me, that was more offensive to me than anything you've ever done."

He started laughing, a dry, cruel sound that echoed through the emptiness around us. "And look at you now. Your choices... man, this is hilarious."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I asked through clenched teeth, trying to control the anger bubbling inside me.

Arthur took a few steps forward, stopping just a few meters away from me. He raised one hand and pointed directly at me, as if accusing someone of a crime. "Ichigo Kurosaki and an Omnitrix? Seriously? With infinite possibilities, entire universes to choose from for powers and abilities, and you chose that? Pathetic."

I clenched my fists, my nails almost piercing the skin of my palms. But he didn't stop.

"If it were me, Rodrigão, if we were truly together, you wouldn't have to stoop to such stupid choices. We'd have powers that would make the gods cry. You know that, right? The two of us together would be unstoppable."

"Enough," I muttered, my voice low but laced with venom.

"Oh, but it's the truth, Rodrigão," Arthur continued, completely ignoring my attempt to end the conversation. "You tried to be clever, tried to do everything on your own, and look where that got you. A borrowed body, a little tech toy, and a bunch of problems you clearly don't know how to solve."

I stayed silent. Not because I agreed with him, but because the anger I felt was so intense that words weren't enough. The emptiness around me seemed to echo the whirlwind of emotions inside me.

Arthur grinned wider, noticing my reaction. "There he is again... the Rodrigão I know. The guy who boils with rage but doesn't have the guts to admit that maybe, just maybe, I'm right."

I stared at him, my gaze full of pure hatred. I didn't want to talk to him anymore. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of provoking me further. Arthur kept smiling, but I knew deep down he was waiting for something. A response, a reaction, anything.

But I wasn't going to give that to him. Not now. Not after everything.

Arthur seemed to savor the silence, like a predator who already knew he had won the hunt. He took a step forward, closing the gap between us, yet still maintaining that relaxed posture full of self-assurance.

"Rodrigão," he started, his voice now adopting an almost paternal tone, as if trying to convince me of something for my own good. "I know what you're thinking. 'Oh, he's just here to mock me, to throw my life in my face, as if I don't already know how messed up it is.' And, man... you'd be right. But let me tell you, I'm not here just for that."

"So why are you here?" I growled, my voice nearly a snarl.

He laughed, a low sound full of disdain. "I'm here to offer you a chance. The chance to fix this mess you made. Because, let's face it, Rodrigão, everything's wrong. Your choices... our choices... were a disaster."

"I don't need you," I retorted, my anger burning like a wildfire, but Arthur just kept smiling.

"Oh, but you do. You just don't want to admit it. Look, you chose Ichigo and that Omnitrix thing, thinking it'd be the perfect combo, but... did you realize how limited you are? A borrowed body, powers you can barely control, and a stupid toy that runs out of juice in the middle of the most important fights. Seriously, Rodrigão? What are you even laughing at?"

He took another step forward, his eyes hidden behind a dark rectangle, burning somehow even without a visible face.

"Now, if you accepted me back, things would be different," he continued. "You wouldn't be in this ridiculous position, kneeling in the corner of your own mind, trying to justify your stupid decisions. Because, unlike you, I still have resources. I still have power. I still have ego blades, Rodrigão. Millions of them. We could use that, you know? Turn this mess into something worthwhile."

"Ego blades?" I repeated, my voice dripping with suspicion.

"Yeah, Rodrigão. Ego blades. Remember them? Each one has a story, powers, personalities. They could be yours. Ours. You wouldn't have to rely on a stolen body or broken technology anymore. We could start over. From scratch, if necessary."

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into the palms of my hands. Every word he spoke was a reminder of my choices, my mistakes. But the rage inside me didn't subside. In fact, it only grew.

"You're just trying to manipulate me," I accused, my voice full of contempt.

Arthur laughed again, shaking his head. "Manipulate? Rodrigão, I'm offering you a way out. Something no other being will give you. You can keep pretending you're in control, that you don't need me, but deep down you know I'm right. Only I can fix this. And you know what's funny? Even after everything you've done, I'm still willing to help. Because, in the end, you and I are the same. And we work a hell of a lot better together."

I didn't respond. Not because I agreed with him, but because I didn't know what to say. Arthur knew exactly where to hit, how to mess with my insecurities and doubts. And that only pissed me off even more.

He took one last step, now only a few meters away, the smile on his face wider than ever. "So? What's it gonna be, Rodrigão? Are you gonna stay broken and keep pretending everything's fine? Or are you gonna accept that,with my help, we could truly be unstoppable?"

Arthur tilted his head to the side, his smile still fixed on his face. He seemed to be savoring the discomfort I was feeling, my anger mixed with growing doubt. He had all the patience in the world, like a hunter who knew the prey was about to surrender.

"Rodrigão," he began, his voice taking on an almost sweet tone, but still laced with mockery. "I know you're fighting it, but what if I told you there's more to this story than you remember? That there are things you've erased yourself?"

I stared at him, confused, but said nothing. Arthur took advantage of the silence to continue.

"Oh, so you don't remember, huh? Of course not. You made sure to forget. Got rid of everything as if you could hide from who you really are. But guess what? I still have it all right here." He pointed to his head as if the memories were stored inside it.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I wanted.

Arthur laughed, a sound that echoed in the darkness. "I'm talking about the memories you sealed away, Rodrigão. The ones you threw out because you thought you could go back to your miserable life and pretend like nothing ever happened. Those memories that would show the real reason you made a deal with me in the first place."

"Lies," I muttered, but my voice was trembling.

"Lies?" he repeated, laughing again. "Really? You think I'd make this up? Come on, Rodrigão, you know I don't have time to lie. I don't need to. The truth is already enough."

He took another step toward me, and I felt a shiver run down my spine. "Let me ask you a simple question: why do you hate me so much? What's the reason, huh? Because, as I remember it, we were the perfect duo. But suddenly, you betrayed me, abandoned me, and decided to act like I never existed. Why?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out. My mind went blank. I wanted to scream, to point out a clear reason, a justification for my hatred, but... there was nothing.

Arthur leaned in closer, as if waiting for an answer he already knew I didn't have. "See? You don't know. Because you erased everything. You got rid of the parts of your life that weren't convenient, that didn't fit the victim narrative you've created for yourself."

"That's not true," I muttered, but it sounded empty, even to me.

Arthur raised his hands theatrically, as if trying to calm the situation. "Look, Rodrigão, I'm not here to judge you. If I were in your shoes, I'd probably do the same thing. But it's funny, isn't it? You hate me, but you don't even know why. So how about we fix that? How about I give you back those memories? All of them. That way you can finally remember who you really are... and who we were together."

My heart started to race, my breath becoming heavier. Part of me wanted to refuse, wanted to continue living without those memories. But another part, a dark and insidious part, wanted to know. Wanted to remember.

"Why?" I asked, my voice full of distrust. "Why are you so willing to help me?"

Arthur laughed again, but this time, there was something softer in his tone, almost nostalgic. "Because, Rodrigão, you and I were an unstoppable duo. And frankly, it's a bit boring without you around. It's not about hate, it's not about revenge. I just want us to be what we were. Simple as that."

I stared at him, still full of anger, but now with a hint of hesitation. Was he lying? Or did he really want that? And more importantly... did I want that?

Arthur smiled, and there was something almost warm in his expression, as if we were reminiscing about the "good old days." But I knew that with him, even warmth was poisonous.

"Ah, Rodrigão, see? This is what I'm talking about. You're all confused, trying to figure out if what I'm saying makes sense. And you know why? Because deep down, you remember. Not completely, of course. But there's a part of you that knows I'm not lying."

I stared at him, clenching my fists. The indecision in my mind was suffocating, and Arthur, of course, knew this.

He took a step closer, gesturing as if painting a picture in the air. "Remember, Rodrigão, when we hunted Gods? Man, it was cinematic. You with your strategic intellect, and me with my absolute power. We were unstoppable. A human and a god... together as one. It was beautiful."

My forehead furrowed, and I wanted to deny it, but something in his words made my mind tremble.

Arthur continued, his voice now more theatrical, as he recounted our supposed "adventures." "Remember when we invaded that entire pantheon? It felt like yesterday... those arrogant gods underestimating us, thinking they were safe on their golden thrones. Oh, how they screamed, Rodrigão. You led the ambush, cutting their lines like they were mere ants."

I felt a chill run through my body. This was impossible. It didn't make sense.

Arthur laughed, clapping his hands as if applauding a show. "And that one? What was his name again? Oh, the God of Eternal Light. You were incredible that day. He looked at you, thinking he could erase your existence with a blink of his eyes. And then you... bam! Stabbed that energy lance straight through his chest. One hit, Rodrigão. It was quite a spectacle."

I trembled, grinding my teeth. There was no way this was true. This was madness.

Arthur noticed my reaction and leaned in, locking eyes with me, that smile of his cutting into my soul. "It's coming back to you, isn't it? You feel it deep down. The adrenaline, the power, the void filled by something greater... by me. We were perfect together, Rodrigão. A god and a human, something the universe had never seen before and never will again."

"Stop," I muttered, but my voice faltered.

"Stop?" Arthur echoed, laughing. "Stop? Rodrigão, you know this is just the beginning. You want more. You've always wanted more. I'm offering you that again. Do you think this Ichigo body and that silly little toy you call the Omnitrix will take you anywhere? Please. If you let me back in, we can rewrite the rules of the game. It'll be us against everything and everyone. And this time, no one will stop us."

My anger began to bubble again, mixed with something I hated to admit: curiosity. What if he was right? What if... what if there really was something more?

Arthur smiled triumphantly, like he'd already won. "But of course, the choice is yours, Rodrigão. Do you want to keep crawling in this miserable little world, or do you want to go back to being who you were born to be? Think carefully... because deep down, you already know the answer."

Arthur didn't need to say anything else. His words had already planted the seed. And, like a slow-acting poison, they began to spread. I tried to deny it, to fight what he was insinuating, but somewhere in the darkest corners of my mind, the memories started to take shape.

The feeling hit me first as a chill, then it consumed me. The metallic taste of adrenaline, the pounding of my heart like a war drum. My body was on the brink of collapse, but my spirit? My spirit was ablaze.

I remembered the grin that escaped me when I faced the Dark Keeper. A grin that shouldn't have been there. I remembered the madness growing with every strike, every move that brought me closer to death. It wasn't just the fight... it was the thrill of standing so close to the edge and feeling more alive than ever.

"You're remembering, aren't you?" Arthur asked, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

I clenched my fists, trying to push the feeling away, but it had already rooted itself deep inside me. That manic laugh I let out during the battle, that moment I realized I was at my limit and, instead of retreating, I pressed forward. It wasn't just courage or desperation. It was something darker.

I remembered looking at the Dark Keeper as he knelt, as I tore him apart with bursts of energy. There was no pity in me. No remorse. Only raw satisfaction. It was as if, for a brief moment, the entire world was mine. As if I was exactly where I was meant to be.

Arthur let out a loud laugh, the sound echoing in the darkness. "See? Isn't it wonderful? That's the true essence of the Rodrigão I know. The one who doesn't hesitate, who doesn't fear. The one who thrives in chaos, who breathes violence as if it were the purest air."

"I... no..." My voice cracked.

"No what?" Arthur taunted, crossing his arms. "Are you going to deny what you felt? Pretend you didn't love every second of that fight? The thrill, the danger, the feeling of absolute control over your destiny? You felt like a god, Rodrigão. Because deep down, that's what you are. Or rather, what you were when we were together."

My hands began to tremble. I didn't want to admit it, but he was right. During that battle, even knowing I was on the brink of death, I didn't want to stop. I didn't want to run. I wanted more. I wanted to win.

Arthur stepped closer, his tone dropping to something almost comforting. "And you know what's funny, Rodrigão? You can't fight it. You tried to be normal, to live like anyone else. But look where you are now. Look at what you chose to do with this new chance. It wasn't to create a better world, it wasn't to save people. It was to fight. Because that's what you are. A warrior, a survivor. But alone, you're only half of what you could be."

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes. The memories kept coming, clearer and clearer. The feeling of cutting through obstacles, of overcoming enemies, of being at the center of it all.

Arthur grinned, seeing my hesitation. "You know the best part, Rodrigão? I don't blame you. That feeling of being on the edge, of pushing past your limits... it's addictive. And deep down, you know you don't want it to stop. Do you?"

I opened my eyes and glared at him. He was smiling, confident, as if he'd already won. And maybe, just maybe, he had. Maybe, somewhere deep inside me, I didn't want to fight it. Maybe, just maybe, he was telling the truth.

"Were we really that strong?" My voice came out low, almost a whisper. I didn't know what to expect from Arthur, but his reaction was immediate. A wide grin spread across his face, so full of satisfaction it was almost irritating.

"Ah, Rodrigão..." He shook his head, almost as if reprimanding me for forgetting something so obvious. "You have no idea, do you? You were the only one who could handle my power completely. Not only that... you did something no one else ever could."

Arthur stepped forward, leaning in as if sharing a secret. "We fused, Rodrigão. A human and a god, in perfect harmony. Do you even realize what that means? The best of both worlds. Your creativity, your ability to improvise, mixed with my absolute power. There was nothing that could stop us."

I wanted to say something, to push back, but the words wouldn't come.

"Want an example?" he continued, his eyes—or what remained of them under that dark rectangle—glinting with excitement. "Remember the Eclipse Blade?"

The Eclipse Blade. The image struck my mind like lightning—a black blade as dark as the night, with a silver glow that seemed to pulse as if alive. It wasn't just a weapon; it was a devourer of light, an extension of us. I remembered holding it, feeling the weight and the overwhelming power in my hands, as if it could cut through time itself.

"You used that beauty to wipe out an entire pantheon, Rodrigão. One single strike, and all those mediocre gods begged for mercy. But you know what you did? Nothing. You just watched as they disappeared into the void." Arthur laughed, as if it were some private joke.

"Or how about… the Judgment Blade? That one was my favorite," he continued, pacing slowly around me like a predator circling its prey. "It didn't just cut. It decided. A blade that determined the fate of anyone it touched. Fair but ruthless. How many, Rodrigão? Three thousand? Four thousand souls? All in one single move, with you in control."

My throat went dry. I vaguely remembered those weapons, but they felt so distant… so unreal.

"Ah, Rodrigão… you were a monster." Arthur stopped in front of me, arms crossed. "And I mean that in the best way possible. There was no one like us. But you threw it all away. Why? For what? To play hero with some silly little toy?" He laughed again, gesturing toward me.

"Here you are, weak, lost, purposeless. While I… well, I'm still me. But I'll give you a chance. I always give you a chance, Rodrigão. Because deep down, we both know you're nothing without me."

His words cut like knives—painful, sharp, and impossible to ignore. He spoke as if we were destined to be this, as if the fusion between us was inevitable, a return to what always should have been. And for the first time, I didn't know how to respond.

I could feel the anger burning inside me, bubbling, ready to explode. Arthur… His name felt like venom on my lips, yet at the same time, a part of me… a part of me was so desperate for answers, for power, for something to make me feel… complete. It wasn't something I wanted to admit, but it was there—that pull, that yearning to return to what I had been.

"I still… hate you, Arthur!" My voice came out trembling but firm, the anger spilling over. I couldn't just forget everything he had done—the lies, the manipulation. He was the reason I was in this situation, why I had made so many wrong choices, why I had drifted away from what truly mattered.

Arthur laughed, as if he knew exactly how I felt. The bastard seemed to feed off it, off my pain, my indecision. He stepped a little closer, his eyes—or what remained of them behind that black rectangle—gleaming with a manic light, as though he was waiting for my answer, confident I would give in.

"I know what you're thinking, Rodrigão," he said, softer now, as if calming a child. "I know you hate what you've become. But you can't deny that, for a moment, at least part of you wanted to go back. That anger you feel toward me… it's just a reaction to what I gave you. I gave you power, a chance to be more. And you want that, don't you? You want the strength, the control, the freedom."

I closed my eyes, trying to push back the turmoil inside me. What he said made sense, more than I wanted to admit. Yes, a part of me wanted that. Wanted to return to what I had been, to have the strength not to be just a spectator in my own life—to act without fear, without hesitation. But… something inside me refused. Something screamed at me not to give in, not to go back to that trap.

"But I…" I faltered, the words hard to swallow. "I'm not ready for this. Not now, not with you, not like this." I looked at him, the emptiness inside me deeper than ever. "I'm still angry at you, Arthur, but… I know giving in isn't the answer. I can't… not like this."

Arthur just watched me, his smile never fading, as if it were all a game to him. He knew he was pushing me, driving me to my limit. "So you're just going to stay there, weak and uncertain, ignoring what we are, what we could be? You're not that pathetic kid anymore, Rodrigão. But fine. Don't worry—I'll be here, waiting. Sooner or later, you'll understand."

I was exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Arthur's words echoed in my mind, but I knew I wasn't ready to walk that path yet. Whatever power he offered, I couldn't take it back so easily. Not with him.

I took a deep breath. My head ached, my body hurt, and I felt more lost than ever. But for a moment, I felt like I had made a decision, even if it was a temporary one. I wouldn't give in to Arthur. Not yet.

"I'll do this for myself, not for you," I said, more to myself than to him. "And if you keep provoking me, I… I'll send you back to whatever hell you came from."

Arthur's smile widened even further. He leaned forward, as if he'd been waiting for that response. "I know you will, Rodrigão. I know. But remember—we're only just beginning."

The air around me started to tremble, as if reality itself was unraveling. The sound was like the crack of shattering glass, a deep, uncontrollable rumble, as though the universe was splitting apart. The ground beneath my feet quaked, and the walls of darkness surrounding us began to collapse, as if everything was on the verge of breaking into pieces.

Arthur, however, remained still, unfazed, as though none of this could touch him. He sat calmly, legs crossed, his smile never leaving his face. He was in complete control, as always. The fracturing of reality seemed like nothing more than a game to him.

He looked at me, his eyes alight with a manic gleam, and spoke with the same soft tone, though it carried a threat I could barely ignore. "I'll be waiting for you, Rodrigão. When everyone else leaves you behind, when you realize there's no one left to stand by your side, you'll come back. I know you will. And then, finally, we'll see what we're truly capable of together."

I tried to react, anger and fear swirling inside me, but I couldn't. Arthur's words echoed in my mind, stirring something deep within me, something I still couldn't control. I wanted to fight, to rise up and leave, but reality was unraveling so quickly I no longer knew where to go.

Then, as everything around me seemed to disintegrate, breaking into fragments, a final whispered phrase reached my ears.

"After all, I'll be waiting for my other half…"

His words echoed in my mind, soft yet heavy with a weight I couldn't ignore. It was a promise, a curse, something he knew would happen someday. And somehow, I knew he was right.

Reality around me vanished entirely, darkness consumed everything, and I found myself being pulled into a new abyss. The last thing I heard was the echo of that phrase, the memory of Arthur waiting—waiting for the day I'd inevitably be forced to return to him.

Everything was swallowed by darkness, and for a moment, I felt more lost than ever.

When I finally forced my eyes open, a burst of light momentarily blinded me. The void around me was replaced by an unusual yet oddly familiar scene. The setting felt like a mix of reality and something beyond it, as though I were in some kind of limbo between worlds.

The first thing I noticed was the man standing before me. He was old, but something about him seemed to transcend time. His wavy black hair, streaked lightly with gray, was slightly disheveled, as if he were always on the move. His unkempt beard and small eyes, hidden behind glasses with orange-tinted lenses, gave him a weary appearance. Yet, there was something more—a peculiar wisdom, as if he had seen things no other being could even fathom.

Beside him stood another figure. He was unmistakable. A being with a strangely familiar yet distorted appearance. He was virtually identical to Ichigo, except his colors were reversed. His skin was white as snow, contrasting with his entirely white hair. His eyes, with black pupils, white irises, and black sclera, seemed to absorb the light around them, creating an unsettling discomfort when gazed at directly. His nails were black, his tongue an intense shade of black, and his skeletal figure loomed with an imposing presence. It was as if I were staring at a darker, twisted version of something I once knew well.

The scene before me was chaotic yet somehow familiar. A wave of relief washed over me for being awake, but a growing weight pressed on my mind. It wasn't just the fact that I was once again in Ichigo's body; it was everything that had happened before... the fight with the Dark Keeper, Arthur's offer—it all hammered away at my thoughts. I still didn't know how to process any of it.

But seeing the two before me brought a strange sense of familiarity, and an involuntary smile crossed my lips. I didn't say anything, but I knew this was a moment of transition. It wasn't the time to dwell on what had happened, especially with Zangetsu when it came to Arthur. They were arguing again, and though I tried to ignore what was happening within me, I couldn't help but notice the tension between them. I knew it wouldn't be easy to deal with either of them.

"I won't touch on that... not for now," I thought to myself.

I looked down at my hands, now back in the form I was so familiar with. They were Ichigo's hands once more. What had happened in the gap between all of that? I was caught in an internal struggle between who I wanted to be and what I had already become. But one thing was clear—it wasn't the time to look back.

Still smiling faintly, I looked at the two. The old man seemed calm, as if waiting for something from me, and the being beside him... he was staring at me with those piercing eyes, as if he already knew what I was thinking.

"It's not the time to keep fighting myself," I thought, forcing my mind to focus on the present.

"Well, enough of that for now. Let's get to what matters," Zangetsu said, his deep, commanding voice carrying the weight of centuries of experience.

I was about to ask what he meant when something caught my attention. For a moment, my mind drifted away from his words and focused on my surroundings. It was as if my senses had been abruptly activated, and I finally realized where I was. It was impossible to mistake this place. That clear blue sky, streaked with a few white clouds. The vast expanse of blue skyscrapers, so tall they seemed to touch infinity, surrounded me. The buildings were tilted, their windows arranged in perfect patterns. Everything around me created an illusion of depth and grandeur, as if space itself had been bent to emphasize the immensity of this world.

What struck me the most was how I stood on one of those buildings—sideways. The ground, or what should have been the ground, was vertical. Even so, my feet remained steady, as though gravity had completely ignored the laws of the real world. It was surreal. And even as I stood there, in this place that defied logic, I knew exactly what it was.

Ichigo's inner world.

It was a gut punch. There was no denying it. Every detail was identical. This wasn't an imitation or a recreation; I was literally in his inner world.

My chest tightened, and a sense of disgust began to rise within me—not toward Zangetsu, not toward the world around me, but toward myself. I had stolen even this from him. It wasn't enough to take his body, his abilities, and even his sword... I had gone further. I had taken something intrinsically his, a reflection of his soul.

"Even his inner world..." I thought, the words echoing bitterly in my mind like a mantra. I couldn't help but recall Arthur's words. "A borrowed body." It was like poison seeping into my thoughts, corroding every trace of pride I might have felt in being in this body. He was right. I hadn't just borrowed it—I had stolen it. Taken it as if it were a right that was never mine.

My fists clenched involuntarily. The anger I felt toward myself was almost suffocating. I was beginning to realize that no matter how much I tried to justify my actions, everything I had done so far carried a weight I couldn't ignore. I wasn't a hero. I wasn't an honorable warrior. I was a parasite.

And now, here I was, standing in Ichigo's inner world, listening to the voices of Zangetsu—both the "original" part and the Hollow. And no matter how much I tried to focus on what was happening around me, my thoughts kept circling back to that one realization.

Arthur was right... again.

A sigh escaped my lips. It wasn't sadness. It wasn't exhaustion. It was something deeper.

Something I didn't even want to name.

"You're awfully quiet, kid," White said in his mocking tone, clearly noticing my silence. "What's wrong? Finally realizing the truth?"

I didn't answer. I couldn't muster the strength to respond. My gaze wandered to the windows of the skyscrapers surrounding us, each reflecting a face that wasn't truly mine. It was Ichigo's face. Not mine. Never mine. And maybe it never would be.

Lowering my head, I let my eyes fall to the "ground," empty and defeated. Thoughts hammered in my mind like a relentless drumbeat, but one question stood out, growing louder with every moment of silence. I slowly raised my eyes to the two figures before me.

"Do you... do you hate me for stealing the body of your true self?"

My voice was barely above a whisper, fragile and uncertain. It felt less like a question and more like a confession. The silence that followed was suffocating, a weight pressing down on the very air around us. The Quincy part, the old man with dark, slightly graying hair, stood still. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword, and his tired, narrowed eyes seemed to dissect every part of me. He wanted to speak—it was evident. His hardened expression betrayed that much. But he said nothing, merely gazing at me, as if his words might crush me under their weight.

The Hollow part, however... His gaze was something I couldn't decipher. His wild, sinister grin was absent, replaced by an expression I'd never seen before. It was neutral—maybe even contemplative. The sudden change made him almost unrecognizable.

Without warning, he began twirling Zangetsu violently by its white ribbon, the slicing sound of the blade whipping through the air reverberating across the inner world. It felt like he was venting some pent-up energy through the motion, the blade tracing almost hypnotic arcs in the air. I stayed silent, waiting for him to speak. Then, abruptly, he stopped. The ribbon coiled tightly around the blade, and his disheveled white hair fell over his eyes, obscuring them momentarily.

"You humans," he began, his tone laced with casual disdain, "throw around the word 'hate' so carelessly."

I froze, confused. "What?"

White tilted his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he brushed his hair aside. "Hate? Nah. Weirdness, I can roll with." His voice was calm, almost unnervingly so, as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world.

The Quincy finally spoke, his deep and measured voice cutting through the air like a blade. "He's right." His tone wasn't harsh, but it carried a weight that seemed heavier than any direct accusation could have. "Weirdness... yes, that's accurate. You inhabit a body that isn't yours, wield power that doesn't belong to you. But hate? No. That would serve no purpose."

I stood there, trying to process their words. There was no hatred, but their acknowledgment of the strangeness of my presence felt even worse somehow. Hatred, I could endure. But weirdness... it was as if they saw me as something out of place, an anomaly in what should be their domain. An intruder in a home that wasn't mine.

"Why would I hate you, huh, kid?" White asked, stepping closer, his grin stretching wide in a way that felt almost exaggerated. "If it weren't for you, I'd just be stuck here... rotting away in boredom. Dead boredom. Literally." He chuckled, as if the thought were the best joke he'd ever heard.

The Quincy, however, remained serious, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Don't think this absolves you of what you've done. But hate... no."

I didn't know how to respond. A storm of conflicting emotions churned inside me—relief, discomfort, and something I couldn't quite name. Their lack of hatred didn't feel like forgiveness; it felt like judgment in its own quiet way.

I turned to White, still confused by his words. "Stuck? What do you mean, stuck? Didn't you have Ichigo? I mean... what happened before I... took over his body?"

A heavy silence followed my question. Yhwach remained silent, his orange-tinted glasses hiding his eyes. White glanced at him with a look that bordered on boredom, his lips curling into a disdainful smirk. He shook his head slowly, as if to signal that he wasn't going to be the one to explain.

"Old man," White began, his voice tinged with impatience, "I'm not in the mood to go over this crap. So it's on you. Tell the kid what happened."

Yhwach turned his gaze from me to White, and for a moment, the two stared at each other as though exchanging unspoken thoughts. Finally, the Quincy sighed—a deep, resigned sound. Then, he turned back to me.

"Rodrigo, is it? Very well..." His voice was as deep and commanding as ever, but there was a hesitation in it, as if he were choosing his words carefully. "Have you heard of the Thousand-Year Blood War?"

I blinked, surprised by the simplicity of the question. "Yes... of course I have."

It was obvious that I knew. After all, I had read the entire story in the manga when it was released. And before being transported to this place, I had been following the anime adaptation. The battle between the Shinigami and the Quincy was something I knew well.

"Good," Yhwach replied, his tone devoid of any visible emotion. He shifted his gaze to the sky above us, as if searching for the right words. "Then you must know about the Soul King. About me. And about... other important details."

I limited myself to a nod, still trying to piece things together. His tone suggested he wasn't just revisiting the story as I knew it. He was setting the stage for something else. Something I didn't know.

"Well…" He started again, his tone as calculated as ever. "You know how that war ended. You know what happened to the Soul King, to me, and to Ichigo Kurosaki, don't you?"

My throat went dry, but I managed to respond. "Yes… You died. And Ichigo defeated you using the power of his two Zangetsus, breaking the Soul King's cycle of oppression."

Yhwach paused, looking at me in a peculiar way, as though evaluating my words. "A simplified view. Not entirely wrong, but also not entirely accurate."

White let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as if he found the whole situation hilarious. "Ah, kid… Do you really think the story ends there? That the fate of the world depends on a few manga panels? Tsk, tsk."

"Then what happened?" I asked, my voice firmer than I expected.

Yhwach adjusted his glasses, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon as though revisiting a distant memory. "The Soul King's fate was sealed, as you said. But power, Rodrigo… power doesn't disappear so easily. Not mine, not the Soul King's. And so, Hyosube Ichibe made a decision. He used Ichigo Kurosaki as the vessel for the new Soul King, stabilizing the three worlds."

Yhwach's words struck me like thunder. My mind immediately connected the dots. Being the Soul King… It wasn't just a title or a position of prestige. I knew what it meant. It wasn't something glorious. It wasn't something heroic. It was a horrible fate.

The Soul King was a mutilated existence, a grotesque form eternally trapped to maintain the balance of the three worlds. Arms severed. Legs removed. Eyes, mouth—everything sealed, reduced to nothing more than a core of energy. That was what upheld the Soul Society, the Human World, and Hueco Mundo. It explained why Aizen hated the very idea. He couldn't accept that the balance of the world he lived in was maintained by something so… horrendous. So cruel.

I swallowed hard, trying to process it all. Ichigo? A vessel for that?

Yhwach's eyes were calm, but there was something in his gaze that seemed… regretful. As if he were sharing a secret he wished he didn't have to reveal.

"No…" My voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "That doesn't make sense. If Ichigo was turned into the Soul King, then how… How am I here? In his body? How am I able to walk, talk, and breathe? For someone to become the Soul King, their body and soul must be sealed into the core. It's impossible for him to be… here. Whole."

White let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. "Ah, kid… You're so slow. Do you think the process was complete? Of course not. Not even Ichibe could fully seal Ichigo. Part of his soul resisted. Something in him was too strong to be contained that easily. Maybe the part of him that always fought to protect others… or maybe something more primal."

Yhwach nodded, confirming White's words. "The sealing process was interrupted before its completion. Ichigo was special, as you know. The fusion of a human, Shinigami, Quincy, and Hollow. That balance made him the ideal choice, but it also made him impossible to seal completely."

I was stunned. My mind spun with the implications of what he was saying. "Then… I'm here because… the process failed?"

White shook his head with a smug grin. "Not exactly. When the seal failed, Ichigo's body was left in a… vacant state. He wasn't the same anymore. No soul. No purpose. Just a vessel waiting to be filled. That's when you came in, Rod. A regular human with no special abilities, but a soul that had something… compatible. You didn't steal Ichigo's body. It was given to you."

"Given to me?" My voice was a mix of incredulity and anger. "By whom? Who had the right to decide that?"

White shrugged, clearly indifferent. Yhwach, however, remained silent for a moment before answering. "By fate. And indirectly, by Ichigo himself. He could no longer be who he was, but the world still needed a substitute—someone to bear the burden he could no longer carry."

My hands trembled as I tried to process everything. I'd always known that being in Ichigo's body felt wrong, but hearing this, knowing that he had been stripped of his essence and turned into an empty vessel for me to inhabit—it was a weight I wasn't sure I could bear.

"I..." My voice faltered. The idea that all of this had been orchestrated, that my original body and life were discarded to fill this void, made me feel sick.

White noticed my discomfort and chuckled, spinning Zangetsu's white ribbon lazily. "You're overthinking it, kid. In the end, none of this matters. Ichigo, you, me—we're all just pawns in a much bigger game. But if you'd rather sit here whining instead of taking advantage of the chance you've been given, well... that's your problem."

Yhwach, on the other hand, looked at me with something that almost resembled understanding. "Rodrigo, the question isn't how you got here. The question is what you'll do now that you're here. You have the power. You have the body. The decision... is yours."

I wanted to scream, to find someone to blame, but all I could do was clench my fists and look away, trying to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. What would I do? I didn't even know who I was anymore.

I took a deep breath, my chest feeling heavy. The question burned in my throat, but I knew I had to ask it. I raised my eyes to meet theirs—Yhwach, calm and almost indifferent, and White, full of disdain and mockery.

"Is there any way I can... give Ichigo's body back?" My voice was steady, though my hesitation was clear. "Even if he's probably under the 'protection' of the Zero Division now... isn't there something I can do to undo this? To restore him to what he was?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. Yhwach seemed lost in thought, while White rolled his eyes dramatically. He was the first to break the silence, as though my question was a bad joke.

"Give the body back?" White repeated, his tone dripping with derision. He shook his head and laughed. "You really think it's that simple? Like this body's just some outfit you can take off and hand back to the owner? Listen, kid—Ichigo doesn't exist the way you think he does anymore. He's not the hero you read about in your manga. The guy you want to give the body back to... isn't here anymore. All that's left is the emptiness you filled."

I swallowed hard but held my ground. "You're saying he can't come back, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't try."

White scoffed, crossing his arms. "Try what, exactly? He was used, Rodrigo. Ichigo was a pawn in the Soul Society's game, just like you are now. The guy lost everything—his soul, his purpose, his freedom. You think the Zero Division would just let him come back? And even if they did, you think he'd be the same?"

My stomach churned. White's words cut like knives, but I couldn't ignore the truth behind them. Even so, I couldn't abandon the idea.

"Yhwach..." I called, hoping for something more than sarcasm. "What about you? Can't you tell me anything? Any way to restore what was lost? Something I can do to fix this?"

Yhwach remained silent for a few seconds longer, as if carefully choosing his words. When he finally spoke, his voice was grave but not unkind.

"Restoring Ichigo to what he was would be... complicated, to say the least. The process that turned him into a vessel cannot simply be reversed. As you said, he's under the 'protection' of the Zero Division. But don't be fooled, Rodrigo—they didn't protect him out of altruism. They used him, just as they're using you."

Anger began to rise within me, but Yhwach raised a hand to stop me. "Before you cast blame on others, know that it's not impossible to seek a way to return the body. There are means... but they would demand sacrifices you're not yet ready to make. It wouldn't be simple or easy. And even if you succeeded, the Ichigo you're trying to bring back... may not be the one you remember."

"Why?" My voice wavered. "Why wouldn't he be the same?"

Yhwach turned his gaze toward the blue sky surrounding us. "Because he no longer possesses the fragments that made him who he was. His soul was shattered during the sealing process, and what remained was used to stabilize the worlds. You are here because you filled the void. Even if you left, even if the body were returned... he would only be an echo of what he once was."

I froze. The thought of bringing Ichigo back only to discover he would be a shadow of himself was devastating.

White laughed again, cutting through the moment of reflection. "See, kid? This is what you get for caring about things that are already broken. There's no fixing it. You should focus on what's here, now. This body is yours. Do something with it instead of wasting time trying to be some moral hero."

But I couldn't agree with him. No matter how hard it was, no matter how much fate seemed against me, I knew I couldn't simply abandon this question.

"If there's even a chance... no matter how small..." I murmured, almost to myself, "I'll find a way."

White scoffed but said nothing more. Yhwach remained silent, his dark and inscrutable eyes watching me. I knew they both thought I was being naive. Maybe I was. But it didn't matter. Not now.

The only thing that mattered was that I couldn't live with the idea of being just a substitute for someone who had lost everything. Even if the entire world was against me, I had to try.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation crush me, but I realized pushing the point further would only leave me more frustrated. I needed a break, something to divert my mind from this suffocating sense of helplessness.

"Alright, enough of that for now," I said, running a hand through my hair and glancing at the two of them. "But there's something else you need to know. We're no longer in the Soul Society. Not in Karakura. Not anywhere you'd recognize. In fact, we're in a completely different world."

I waited for a reaction. Maybe surprise, confusion, or even indifference. But what I got was... strange. Yhwach remained perfectly still, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he already knew what I was going to say. White, on the other hand, froze in place. His usual carefree demeanor disappeared for a brief moment, and his eyes, typically full of mockery, locked onto me with an intensity that made me take a step back.

"What's with that look?" I asked, staring at them both. "Why are you reacting like this?"

Yhwach was the first to speak, his voice deep and controlled, carrying a tone I couldn't quite place. "You said... another world?"

"Yes," I replied, crossing my arms, trying to maintain my composure. "Another world. And it's not a metaphor. This place has no connection to the Soul Society, the Human World, or even Hueco Mundo. It's something... entirely separate."

White let out a dry laugh, but it didn't sound amused. "Tch... Kid, do you even realize what you're saying? Another world? You think this body – one carrying fragments of the Soul King – just ended up in some random place?"

"I don't think, I know," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "I've been here long enough to realize that the rules of this place have nothing to do with what you know. Even the constellations – the beings that govern here – are completely different."

Yhwach tilted his head slightly, his eyes fixed on me as if analyzing every word. "Constellations..." he murmured, almost as if savoring the word.

White, however, took a step toward me, pointing Zangetsu at me. "Let me get this straight, kid. You're saying we've landed in a world where the 'rules' are entirely new. And these... constellations run the show? Sounds... interesting."

The way he said it made me uncomfortable. It didn't feel like genuine curiosity; it felt more like he was planning something.

"Yes," I replied cautiously. "But you're missing the point. You two aren't exactly 'native' to this body, are you? So, how do you feel being in a place completely disconnected from the world you were born into?"

Yhwach finally stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's curious that you ask," he began, his deep voice reverberating in the air. "Because the fact that we're here, intact, even after being severed from our world of origin... suggests that something or someone allowed it. This isn't natural."

"Allowed it?" I repeated, frowning.

White smirked again, but it wasn't a comforting smile. "It means that either someone in this so-called 'new world' wanted us here... or the old world had no more use for us. Either way, Rodrigo, it raises an important question: what did you do to end up here? Because, as far as I know, none of this happens by chance."

A chill ran down my spine. I knew my arrival here was tied to the deal I'd made with that mysterious being. But there were more forces at play, forces I still didn't fully understand.

"I don't have all the answers," I admitted, looking away. "But what matters now is figuring out how to survive here. This place isn't like the other worlds. The constellations control everything, and I'm sure they're already watching us. Watching me. And now, watching you too."

White laughed, throwing his head back. "Watching us? Kid, let them come. I want to see if these 'constellations' are as strong as you say. Bet they're just more ants to crush."

"Do not underestimate them," Yhwach interrupted, his grave tone cutting through the air. "This world may be different, but that does not make it inferior. If the rules here are new, then we will have to adapt. And you, Rodrigo... will have to decide quickly which path to take."

"Which path?" I asked, feeling the weight of his words.

Yhwach averted his gaze to the blue sky surrounding us. "Because he no longer has the fragments that made him who he was. His soul was shattered during the sealing process, and what remained was used to stabilize the worlds. You're here because you filled the void. Even if you left, even if the body was returned… he would only be a shadow of what he once was."

I stood frozen. The idea of bringing Ichigo back only to discover he would be a hollow echo of himself was devastating.

White laughed again, breaking the moment of reflection. "See, kid? This is what you get for caring about things that are already broken. There's no fixing it. You should focus on what's here, now. This body is yours. Do something with it instead of wasting time trying to be some moral hero."

But I couldn't agree with him. No matter how difficult it was, no matter how much fate seemed stacked against me, I knew I couldn't simply abandon this issue.

"If there's even a chance… no matter how small..." I murmured, almost to myself, "I'll find a way."

White scoffed but said nothing more. Yhwach remained silent, simply observing me with those dark, inscrutable eyes. I knew they thought I was being naive. Maybe I was. But that didn't matter. Not now.

The only thing that mattered was that I couldn't live with the thought of being just a substitute for someone who had lost everything. Even if the whole world stood against me, I had to try.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on me, but I realized dwelling on it further would only frustrate me more. I needed a break—something to take my mind off this feeling of helplessness.

"Alright, that's enough for now," I said, running a hand through my hair and glancing at the two of them. "But there's something else you both need to know. We're not in the Soul Society anymore. Not in Karakura. Not anywhere you recognize. In fact, we're in a completely different world."

I waited for a reaction. Maybe surprise, confusion, or even indifference. But what I got was… strange. Yhwach stayed utterly still, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he already knew what I was going to say. White, on the other hand, froze in place. His usual carefree demeanor disappeared for a brief moment, and his eyes—normally filled with mockery—locked onto me with an intensity that made me take a step back.

"What's that reaction?" I asked, looking between them. "Why are you acting like this?"

Yhwach was the first to speak, his voice deep and controlled, but with a tone I couldn't quite place. "You said… another world?"

"Yes," I replied, crossing my arms, trying to keep my posture firm. "Another world. And it's not a metaphor. This place has no connection to the Soul Society, the Human World, or even Hueco Mundo. It's something… completely separate."

White let out a dry laugh, but it didn't seem amused. "Tch... Kid, do you even realize what you're saying? Another world? You think this body—which carries fragments of the Soul King—was just thrown into some random world?"

"I don't think—I know," I retorted, my patience thinning. "I've been here long enough to realize the rules of this place have nothing to do with what you know. Even the constellations—the beings that govern here—are something entirely different."

Yhwach tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me as if analyzing every word. "Constellations..." he repeated softly, almost as if savoring the word.

White, however, stepped closer, pointing Zangetsu at me. "Let me get this straight, kid. You're telling me we ended up in a world where the 'rules' are different. And these… constellations rule everything? Sounds… interesting."

The way he said it made me uneasy. It didn't sound like genuine curiosity—it sounded like he was already planning something.

"Yes," I answered cautiously. "But you're missing the point here. Neither of you are exactly 'natives' to this body, right? So how do you feel being in a place completely disconnected from the world you came from?"

Yhwach finally stepped forward, his hands clasped behind his back. "It's curious you ask that," he began, his deep voice reverberating through the space. "Because the fact that we're here, intact, even after being severed from our original world… suggests that something or someone allowed it. This isn't natural."

"Allowed?" I asked, frowning.

White smiled again, but it wasn't a comforting smile. "That means either someone from this 'new world' wanted us here… or the old world had no use for us anymore. Either way, kid, it raises an important question: what did you do to end up here? Because, as far as I know, nothing like this happens by accident."

A chill ran down my spine. I knew my arrival here was tied to the deal I made with that mysterious being. But there was more at play—things I didn't yet understand.

"I don't have all the answers," I admitted, looking away. "But what matters now is figuring out how to survive here. This place isn't like the other worlds. The constellations control everything, and I'm sure they're already watching us. Watching me. And now you too."

White laughed, throwing his head back. "Watching us? Kid, let them come. I want to see if these 'constellations' are as strong as you claim. Bet they're just more ants to crush."

"Don't underestimate them," Yhwach interrupted, his grave tone cutting through the air. "This world may be different, but that doesn't mean it's inferior. If the rules here are new, we'll have to adapt. And you, Rodrigo... will have to decide quickly which path you'll take."

"Which path?" I asked, feeling the weight of his words.

"You're in a body that carries the burden of a shattered world," he said. "And now, you're in a new world, filled with forces you don't yet comprehend. The question isn't just how to survive… but how you'll use this body and these forces to shape what's to come. After all, you're not just an intruder here. You're an anomaly."

His words left me silent. An anomaly. It was exactly how I felt, but hearing it from Yhwach only solidified the reality.