Chapter 68: Skeleton Emperor

“Your Majesty, that Shinigami’s too arrogant! Ignoring you is like slapping your face!” The two humanoid Hollows groveled before Baraggan Louisenbairn, the Skeleton Emperor, seated on his throne, his skeletal frame radiating a decaying reiatsu.

“You dare return after failing me?” Baraggan snarled, waving a bony hand. Guards dragged the wailing Hollows away for execution.

Baraggan surveyed Las Noches, his empire. Unlike most Hollows, driven by instinct, he craved power and dominion. He’d sensed Yamabuki Haruto’s group the moment they entered his domain but chose not to confront them directly. He wanted the Shinigami to grovel, to kneel before the King of Hueco Mundo, feeding his vanity. Haruto’s defiance stung. I’ll humiliate him, Baraggan vowed. Force him to fight his companions—only one leaves alive.

Rising from his throne, a horde of Hollows trailed him, their presence amplifying his grandeur. Meanwhile, Haruto prepared to move. His bravado masked his caution—provoking Baraggan meant a brutal fight. “Brother Yamabuki, is the King of Hueco Mundo really that strong? Even you’re running?” Sasakibe Chōjirō asked.

“Running? This is a strategic retreat,” Haruto scoffed. “Two hours, and we’re out of here.”

Chōjirō marveled at Haruto’s shamelessness. Their Shinigami reiatsu blazed like a beacon in Hueco Mundo’s dark sands. Escape was tough. Two Menos Grande blocked their path. “His Majesty summons you!” one roared.

“Summon your head!” Haruto’s Zanpakutō pierced one’s mask, and a “Hadō #63: Raikōhō!” blasted the other. The trio kept moving.

A decaying, violent reiatsu crashed down, halting them. Chōjirō and Kazenami Haru, Vice-Captain-level at best, staggered, nearly collapsing. Haruto’s forehead beaded with sweat. Only one being has this reiatsu: Baraggan. The Skeleton Emperor had come himself.

“Brother Yamabuki, this reiatsu—it’s suffocating!” Chōjirō gasped.

Haruto stayed silent, mind racing. Aizen steamrolled Hueco Mundo with two captains. Why’s this so hard? The reiatsu intensified, and Chōjirō and Haru crumpled, barely conscious. Baraggan appeared overhead, crowned and skeletal, his axe gleaming, trailed by a chaotic horde of Hollows.

Big mistake. Haruto had banked on Baraggan ignoring a mere Vice-Captain. Now, fighting was suicide, and escape seemed impossible.

“Shinigami, why don’t you kneel?” Baraggan demanded from his airborne throne, voice dripping with contempt.

“Will kneeling spare me?” Haruto shot back.

“Of course not,” Baraggan sneered, eyeing him like an insect. Haruto’s strength outmatched most Adjuchas, but as Hueco Mundo’s pinnacle, Baraggan saw him as prey to toy with before killing.

“Then why bother?” Haruto drew his Zanpakutō, pointing it at Baraggan. “Enough talk. Let’s fight.”

Baraggan froze, then laughed. “You challenge me? You’re not worthy. Any subordinate could crush you.”

Haruto smirked. “I hear the King of Hueco Mundo earns the throne through strength. Let’s fight. If I lose, we stay. If you lose, I take your crown.”

“Arrogant!” Baraggan roared, fury shaking Las Noches. Refusing the challenge would cost him face before his minions. This brat dies in seconds. He descended, landing ten meters from Haruto, axe in hand.

Got him, Haruto thought. Two hours until the Senkaimon opened. Baraggan didn’t know. Stalling was the key. He whispered to Chōjirō and Haru, “I’ll use some weird powers soon. Pretend you see nothing. Back in Soul Society, not a word. Got it?”

Chōjirō opened his mouth, but Haru pressed his head down. “Chief, we’re blind. We won’t ask, no matter what.” Her Tsunayashiro training made her sharp—silence was survival.

“Come, brat!” Baraggan brandished his axe.

“Wait!” Haruto raised a hand. “Give me twenty minutes to warm up. You don’t want them saying you won unfairly, right? One, two, three, four…” He began mock calisthenics, stalling with flair.