Help! I am bound to Aizen!
Chapter 376

Chapter 376

2-in-1 chapter:  

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Just as he was about to commit master-slaying to attain enlightenment, Kaelith suddenly shook his head.

He slowly sat up, releasing the blade he had pressed against Yamamoto’s neck.

“Ehehe, sorry—got things mixed up.”

“?”

Mixed up?

Staring at the wretched disciple in front of him, Yamamoto was visibly annoyed.

He had been caught off guard and nearly killed.

Though part of it was his own carelessness, it was still infuriating.

He kicked Kaelith aside, stood up, and with a whoosh, swung his Zanpakutō in a blazing arc.

“Brat, again!”

“Okay!”

Kaelith nodded.

Off to the side, Kyōraku finally let out a breath of relief.

Just now, he genuinely thought Kaelith was going to kill Yamamoto.

That killing intent wasn’t fake in the slightest.

But in the next moment, the junior disciple snapped out of it, and the killing intent vanished like smoke.

Bizarre.

Could it be… he’s been so overworked with paperwork that he’s gone insane?

Now that he thought about it—it was actually possible.

Normally, the kid was a total idiot, but when handling paperwork, it was like he transformed into a completely different person: efficient and dependable.

This was the price for it perhaps...

Yamamoto narrowed his eyes, focusing all his attention on Kaelith.

This time, he wouldn’t let the brat get the upper hand.

The honor of the master must be restored—today.

Under his gaze, Kaelith moved.

An attack from the left?

Yamamoto scoffed.

He’d seen this kind of opening countless times—nothing to worry about!

He raised his blade to meet the strike.

Clang!!

The moment he lifted his arm, Yamamoto was dumbfounded—Kaelith was faster. He had already swung his blade and landed a strike at the exact moment Yamamoto raised his weapon, pressing it right back down.

So it wasn’t just his imagination—Kaelith really had suppressed him in that earlier fight.

This brat—there was something wrong with him!

With a grunt, Yamamoto ramped up his assault, sharper and fiercer than before.

This time, he intentionally used some techniques he rarely revealed, adjusting his movements with refined precision.

Yet Kaelith remained utterly calm.

Gripping his Zanpakutō, he slashed several times, and every cut landed precisely where Yamamoto felt most uncomfortable.

Many of the openings Kaelith exploited weren’t even things Yamamoto himself had noticed—but Kaelith found and punished them instantly.

The more they fought, the more bewildered Yamamoto became.

What the hell was going on…? Did this brat gain some kind of precognitive ability?

But even if he somehow knew what attack was coming next, in a fight this fast-paced, there shouldn’t be time to formulate a counter on the fly.

It’s like in rhythm games—even if you know what patterns are coming, once the speed’s high enough, there's no time to think.

But Kaelith not only reacted instantly—he countered everything. He had mapped out the weakest point of every move.

Facing his insolent disciple, Yamamoto couldn’t help but feel something eerie:

His entire self had been completely seen through.

Sure, they’d fought dozens of times over the last hundred years—but to be read this deeply? That was abnormal.

Under Kyōraku’s shocked gaze, Yamamoto took a step back.

Then a second. A third.

The deep wrinkles on the old man’s face were flushed red, either from anger or from the heat of Ryūjin Jakka.

He kept switching up his techniques, but Kaelith neutralized every single one with ease.

With nowhere left to retreat, Yamamoto roared, his spiritual pressure bursting outward.

“RRAAAHH!!”

With that furious shout, he gripped his blade in both hands, and cloaked in fire, swung at Kaelith’s shoulder from an incredibly deceptive angle.

In the blaze, Yamamoto looked like an angry Vajra.

The swing of his blade seemed to drain all color from the dojo—black and white eclipsing everything.

But halfway through the slash, Yamamoto’s expression froze.

At some point, Kaelith had already extended his Zanpakutō.

The tip of his blade was pressed against the side of Ryūjin Jakka.

Yamamoto’s seemingly divine strike—intercepted like someone had seen it coming from the future.

In the same instant, Kaelith ducked in, slipped beneath Yamamoto’s guard, reversed his grip, and placed the blade at Yamamoto’s neck once more.

This time, not only Kyōraku, but even Yamamoto was stunned.

Earlier, he might’ve chalked it up to not being serious.

But this time, he had been determined to thoroughly discipline his rebellious disciple. His strikes were meant to hurt.

And still—he lost that easily?

How could this be?

Was he really getting old? Had he become obsolete?

Staring in shock, Yamamoto met Kaelith’s grin: “Sensei, without Bankai, you can’t kill me.”

“These moves of mine—backed by nearly a thousand iterations of counter-strategy—how could you possibly block them?”

Yamamoto frowned slightly.

He didn’t understand a single word of what this idiot disciple just said.

But one thing was certain—this brat had definitely come up with some new trick again.

With a burst of spiritual pressure, Yamamoto pushed Kaelith away.

Then, sheathing his sword, he asked with a frown:

“Brat, what the hell was that just now?”

Under Yamamoto and Kyōraku’s watchful gaze, Kaelith let out a smug chuckle and began explaining his simulation ability.

After listening, even Yamamoto—who had seen and experienced nearly everything—couldn’t help but widen his old eyes.

Judging from how Kaelith had intercepted his every move, this was no simple mental visualization.

Combined with what he said earlier about the “Superhuman Drug,” and with sufficient data on his opponent—this ability was almost invincible.

But Yamamoto quickly spotted a flaw:

“No, brat—your ability may be powerful, but the opponents in your simulations follow fixed patterns. If they realize their attacks are being read and change styles on the fly, wouldn’t your method be useless?”

Kaelith shook his head:

“The simulated opponents in my mind can pass on experience to future iterations.”

“While I can’t simulate how they’d behave against others, I can predict every possible adaptation they might make while fighting me.”

“The solution you just came up with—my simulated version of you used that during our fourteenth bout in the mental world.”

“The first-time version of you… the version who realizes I can counter your techniques… the version who realizes I can even counter your adaptations…”

“Three thousand fights. Every variation, etched into my muscle memory.”

As he said this, Kaelith crossed his arms and smirked proudly:

“Right now, you could say I’m a weapon made specifically to defeat you, Sensei.”

“Out in the world, they call me... the Yamamoto Slayer!”

Kyōraku’s eyes lit up.

Brilliant!

Just as he was about to grin, Yamamoto seemed to sense something and turned to look at him.

Kyōraku quickly shut his mouth.

In the end, Kaelith passed the assessment. Yamamoto assigned him a task: one week from now, they would conduct a Bankai-level battle in the mountains of Rukongai. Kaelith had no objections to this.

What one learns in a simulated world is, in the end, “book knowledge.”

If you don’t put it into practice, something always feels missing.

Kyōraku Shunsui, on the other hand, failed the exam. Starting immediately, he was to train under the waterfall for four hours every day, supervised by his lieutenant.

Additionally, he had to handle all division duties promptly. If there were any delays, the length of his waterfall training would increase.

Kyōraku, who had just been in the mood to laugh, now couldn’t smile at all...

...............................

.................

.

As the first light of dawn broke, Kaelith opened his eyes.

Soifon, who had spent the night beside him, had quietly slipped away at some point.

After getting dressed, he arrived at the training grounds—only to be greeted by an unexpected guest.

Dressed in a white haori, his face painted with grotesque makeup, was Mayuri Kurotsuchi.

Seeing Kaelith, Mayuri bared his ghastly pale teeth in a grin that could scare a child silent.

“Kaelith-dono, it’s been a while... has your health been well lately?”

Kaelith blinked, confused by Mayuri’s bizarrely respectful attitude.

Then, a look of realization crossed his face.

“There’s a problem with Nemu?”

Mayuri rubbed his hands together like a shady merchant, wearing a fake smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Forcing this guy to act respectfully was truly a test of endurance.

Seeing Kaelith cut straight to the point, he quickly followed up:

“As expected of Kaelith-dono, you saw through it immediately!”

He hesitated for a moment, seeming to consider his wording.

After a few seconds, he said awkwardly:

“Kaelith-dono, it’s like this.”

“During the modified soul incident, I took the opportunity to collect some modified soul pills left behind when Soul Reapers died.”

“After repeated research and confirming the risks, I borrowed some concepts from them and applied them to Nemu’s modifications.”

“But... after the modifications, Nemu seems to have developed a small problem.”

“Now, it requires your personal intervention—only you can resolve it.”

Upon hearing this, Kaelith couldn’t help but sigh.

As expected of a mad scientist... the Nemuri Project, which had finally yielded results, and he just casually used it as test material.

If it were him, he would’ve at least consulted Sōsuke or Kisuke—who had minds second only to his own—before acting.

Since it concerned Nemu, he didn’t waste time. He told Mayuri to lead the way.

They arrived at the Twelfth Division—or rather, the Kaelith Science Bureau sub-branch. Mayuri led him to a hidden lab.

The moment Kaelith entered, he paused in surprise.

On the operating table lay a girl with long braided hair, appearing to be around eighteen or nineteen years old, quietly resting.

He looked at Mayuri in shock.

“This is Nemu?”

“Indeed!”

“How did she suddenly get so big... hasn’t it only been twenty or thirty years since she was created?”

Mayuri let out a chuckle:

“Kaelith-dono, Nemu isn’t an ordinary lifeform. Her embryo is a genetically enhanced unit I personally engineered!”

“Moreover, with your spiritual power as a catalyst... her growth rate naturally exceeds that of ordinary Shinigami!”

Kaelith narrowed his eyes and looked at Mayuri with suspicion.

He suspected the old schemer had used some kind of growth accelerant on little Nemu—but he had no proof.

He walked over to Nemu and extended his hand to rest on her head.

Technically, he could’ve put his hand on the shock dampener, but he was a refined swordsman—and after spending meaningful time with Soifon last night, he refrained.

Soon, Kaelith identified the issue.

Mayuri had taken modified soul data recovered from the battlefield, removed the consciousness, and directly infused it into Nemu’s body—attempting to create a combat machine capable of shifting abilities based on which soul data was embedded.

The research direction was a bit like Rocket Team’s modified Eevee, using different evolution stones to repeatedly change forms.

All things considered, while insane, the concept wasn’t bad.

If he hadn’t used Nemu as the test subject, and had chosen a safer one instead, it would’ve been even better.

If it really worked—being able to freely switch abilities via modified soul pills—it would basically be the Enrakyōten of biological warfare.

Ah, speaking of Enrakyōten... he’d always wanted to mess around with it but hadn’t had the chance.

Hmm. Next time Sōsuke leaves town, he’ll sneak it out and have a little fun.

Hehehe.

As these stray thoughts wandered in his mind, Kaelith released his own artificial soul energy and channeled it into Nemu.

With little effort, he drew out all the soul power that didn’t belong to Nemu.

Problem solved, he turned to Mayuri, ready to warn him not to conduct such risky experiments on little Nemu again—or he’d pull out of the Nemuri Project altogether.

But before he could speak, Kaelith suddenly froze.

He was shocked to realize that the modified soul powers he had just extracted had all been absorbed into his own soul.

Not like Nemu, where a “plug-in” was installed—it had been devoured.

For a brief moment, Kaelith wondered if he was turning into a Hollow.

He was just about to test whether he could absorb a Shinigami’s soul by trying it on Mayuri, when he noticed something.

The soul energy that had just been absorbed began to slowly crystallize and separate from deep within his own soul.

To be precise, only a tiny sliver remained.

The vast majority of the modified soul power was forcefully expelled.

In his hand, the expelled energy reformed itself into the shape of a soul pill.

As for the bit that remained—it had crystallized and now maintained a tight bond with him.

His instincts told him this wasn’t Shinigami power.

Closing his eyes, Kaelith focused carefully.

Soon, he understood the true nature of that energy.

It was... a trace of the Soul King’s power—released when Inaba Kagerōza created modified souls using the “breath of the Soul King”!

After confirming this, Kaelith was genuinely surprised.

His body had not only absorbed Soul King energy—it had also formed a stable link with it?

He tried to activate the power.

But it was only a thread, a residue so minuscule it was practically negligible.

So nothing really happened.

Realizing this, he turned to look at Mayuri.

Under Mayuri’s instinctively cautious gaze, Kaelith grinned:

“Mayuri, how many modified soul pills do you have left? Bring them all out!”

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