The air ruptured as Wenwu’s aura exploded in a radial burst, shattering what remained of Aizen’s illusion. Pillars cracked, the ornate walls peeled like ash, and the hotel’s defenses surged to life—only to be fried in an instant by the overwhelming arcane-tech surge from the rings.
Remaker twisted the laws of matter—Wenwu’s broken surroundings rebuilt themselves into jagged stone spikes and weapons under his will.
Influencer sent waves of emotion—fear, awe, despair—attempting to disrupt Aizen’s mental control.
Lightning arced out like a divine storm, raw energy turning the sky above the mountain red.
Incandescence turned his palm into a miniature sun, unleashing searing plasma across the battlefield.
Daimonic and Nightbringer—twin rings of darkness and the nether—shrouded him in necrotic aura, turning incoming projectiles to dust and absorbing light itself.
Zero unleashed absolute cold, flash-freezing the air in waves, while
The Liar wove illusions of Wenwu’s own, trying to trap Aizen in mirrored reflections of unreality.
Spin distorted time in the space around Wenwu, letting him move like a blur, accelerating his already formidable martial skills.
And finally, Spectral unleashed his spirit—detaching it from his body, fighting on both astral and physical planes simultaneously.
This was not just a battle of powers—it was a war of metaphysics, of control, of presence.
Aizen didn’t even draw Kyōka Suigetsu.
Wenwu moved first—disappearing in a streak of green light and appearing directly behind Aizen, launching a triple-palm strike enhanced by Spin, Lightning, and Incandescence.
The impact created a crater within the summit hall—massive, molten lines cracking through the marble floor.
But Aizen was no longer there.
He appeared above, two fingers extended downward.
"Hadō #88. Hiryū Gekizoku Shinten Raihō."
A dragon-shaped blast of blue-white energy obliterated the sky as it crashed downward. Wenwu crossed his arms, rings flaring, Zero and Nightbringer creating a barrier of absolute cold and blackness.
The summit shuddered as debris and spiraling energy flared across the mountainside.
When the dust cleared, Wenwu was standing—but his left shoulder was shredded, flesh hanging off like ribbons.
Then it regenerated in real-time, tendons snapping back, bone reforming, skin sealing under a green glow.
Aizen raised an eyebrow.
Wenwu shot forward again—using Spin to accelerate time locally, he began a relentless assault, fists glowing with Lightning and Spectral energy.
Each punch echoed like thunder, moving too fast for most eyes to follow.
Aizen blocked with only his forearm, not using a weapon, letting each blow land—and each time Wenwu’s rings struck, fragments of Aizen’s form broke away like glass.
They always reformed. Effortlessly.
"You’re regenerating," Aizen said calmly. "But regeneration only prolongs the inevitable."
Wenwu roared and stabbed forward with a beam from Incandescence, enhanced by Daimonic, making it a hellfire beam.
Aizen allowed it to impale him.
The entire summit lit up in red light.
Wenwu smirked—then froze.
Because Aizen was smiling, even with a massive hole through his chest.
"You never pierced me," Aizen whispered.
The illusion shattered—the beam had never fired.
Wenwu gasped. That meant—
Aizen appeared beside him and gently placed a hand on Wenwu’s temple.
"You’ve been under Kyōka Suigetsu again... since the moment you healed."
Wenwu’s rings flared violently, trying to dispel the illusion, but the Liar ring—his own—was clashing with Kyōka Suigetsu, and it couldn’t tell the difference anymore.
Aizen now floated slightly off the ground, his Hōgyoku-enhanced form fully revealed.
A golden crown of light shimmered faintly behind his head like a fallen god.
Wenwu staggered back, bruised, bleeding, but still regenerating. He hurled his arms forward—each ring launched as a beam of pure intent:
Remaker—disassembled matter in a straight line.
Spin—twisted Aizen’s time, freezing parts of his body mid-motion.
The Liar—projected a dozen fake Aizens, each indistinguishable.
He fused Zero and Lightning, creating a storm of cryoelectric chaos, followed by a final strike of Spectral—sending his spirit form to attack Aizen’s soul directly.
It would’ve felled any god.
Aizen absorbed the attack with his palm.
Wenwu froze—literally and metaphysically.
Every action he had just taken...
Every ring he had just activated...
Reality reasserted itself: he was on one knee, coughing blood, having already been defeated minutes ago.
Wenwu looked up, stunned. The Makluan Rings dimmed, flickering erratically, their link to his consciousness frayed.
"You... toyed with me," he growled.
"No," Aizen said. "You toyed with yourself—by thinking you were the only predator in the room."
Wenwu stood unsteadily. His eyes burned with fury.
Then slowly, he looked around.
The guards were still out cold.
While Dave, Tony, Steve, and the others remained seated on the sofa, the table in front of them untouched, it was as if the whole mountaintop had been silenced. What they had witnessed wasn’t a fight—it was a dismantling.
"I pity that guy," Tony said, kneeling beside the unconscious Xu Wenwu. "After living with Aizen for over a year, I know, I can’t defeat him unless I have same power or I am so much above him in power—I don’t even bother trying to try And that’s... very rare."
Dave shifted slightly as he replied, "It’s normal. Aizen can honestly be considered one of the strongest beings on this planet."
Steve shrugged with a dry chuckle. "My super-soldier power feels like nothing compared to them."
Even though he had now power of Devil fruit, compared to what he saw its nothing.
On the other side of the room, Aizen moved with eerie calm.
Without a word, he raised his hand—and both of Xu Wenwu’s wrists were severed in a flash of spiritual energy. The Makluan Rings dropped, clinking softly against the cold floor.
"Since you were ready to take something that was mine..." Aizen said coolly, staring down at the fallen warlord, "...then I think you should be prepared to give up something you had."
Xu Wenwu writhed, blood trailing behind him as he tried to move, powerless.
Aizen picked up the Ten Rings, inspecting them for a moment before turning and walking back toward the group. He placed them neatly on the table in front of Dave, Steve, and Tony.
"He’s done," Aizen said, taking a seat across from Dave. "Now... he will no longer bother us."
He glanced down at the Makluan Rings. "So... what do we do with them?"
Dave looked at the rings thoughtfully. "They’re ancient... powerful. But not really suited for just one man anymore."
"Announce that Unity is launching a new super-heroic generation. A global contest—physical excellence, mental brilliance, moral clarity. The Ten Rings... will go to ten champions across the world."
Steve nodded, already seeing the vision.
"Yes. A legacy. One that never ends. These rings can be passed down... unlike us."
Tony gave a faint grin. "The guy gave us a gift, even if he didn’t mean to."
He stood, glancing once more at the bloodied and broken Wenwu lying motionless on the floor.
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