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... re in the air was far gentler than the overwhelming density of Hueco Mundo. It was breathable. Calm. Weak.
A deep rumble echoed as the massive dimensional gate opened once more. The Senkaimon, sealed tight for days, now split apart like a wound reopening. One after another, silhouettes in black shihakushō stepped through the glimmering threshold. The first few shinigami emerged with hunched shoulders, worn-out footsteps, and dull gazes that lacked any trace of victory.
Shiba Kaie ...
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