Nel's Defeat

Then something interesting showed up on the monitor—something Silas hadn't expected to happen.

Nel was seen walking in the stark halls of Las Noches, curiosity lacing her steps. Her fracción, her companions, had vanished, and unease gnawed at her. Suddenly, a cold voice cut the silence.

"Looking for something?" Nnoitra sneered as his mantis-like gaze fixed on her.

Now Silas understood why Szayelaporro wasn't in his laboratory, nor why he hadn't sensed Nnoitra earlier. The scene in which Nel's defeat was taking place!

Nel squared her shoulders. "None of your business. Is that weapon meant to intimidate?" She gestured toward his massive, rounded scythe. "If you don't want to look weak, hide it and move on."

An ear-splitting explosion shattered the tense silence. Through the haze of dust, Nel saw the crumpled forms of Pesche and Dondochakka, their bodies damaged from a beating. Fury ignited within her.

"Do you know what you've done?!"

She whirled on Nnoitra, her eyes blazing. Before she could strike at the illusion of an empty space, Nnoitra's blade slashed her face, a searing blow that cracked her mask and sliced open her forehead. The world spun, and she collapsed, darkness claiming her.

"Call this an act of a beast if you want," Nnoitra chuckled, lifting her unconscious body. "Doesn't change anything."

A rasping voice broke his gloating. "Anything else, Nnoitra?" Szayelaporro approached, eager to witness the aftermath.

Nnoitra scoffed. "My job's done. Don't recall being your 'partner', just sharing a goal. Now clear off; I don't need you gawking."

With a casual flick of his wrist, he hurled Nel's limp form over the edge of Las Noches. Her body tumbled into the yawning void below. "By the time she gets back," Nnoitra mused, watching her fall, "I'll be that much stronger."

The two then watched as she reverted to her childlike form.

Silas remembered this scene all too well. Nnoitra's brutality and Szayelaporro's device cast an illusion on Nel, causing her not to see the real Nnoitra. She was nothing more than another specimen for Szayelaporro to manipulate and Nnoitra's stepping stone.

Though Silas could have interacted, even from this distance, altering the timeline further could have unforeseen consequences. He had a mission, and Nel's fate, however tragic, was not his to change.

For now.

He shifted his focus back to the data itself. Szayelaporro would return at any time now.

This laboratory was a treasure trove of information. There was no telling when he could return here. He began weaving tendrils of his spiritual energy, reaching out to the various consoles and data storage units scattered around the room.

Using the Hōgyoku's immense processing power, he began copying everything at an alarming pace.

Formulas for poisons used by Szayelaporro, detailed schematics of Arrancar modification techniques, even blueprints for the advanced technology incorporated into Las Noches—all of it flooded into Silas's mind in a torrent of information.

He greedily devoured it, the vast knowledge adding to his already formidable arsenal.

But as he dove deeper, a low growl echoed through the sterile halls. Hollows. Silas couldn't afford to spend any more time here.

With a final burst of his power, he finished copying what he could before slipping back through the hidden access panel just as a pair of hulking Arrancar entered.

Silas smirked faintly.

His journey through the fortress had been fruitful. He now possessed a wealth of information about Aizen's operations, his Arrancar army, and the inner workings of Las Noches itself. With this knowledge, he could formulate a more precise strategy to further his own plans and manipulate the flow of events without disrupting the overall timeline too drastically.

• • •

Back in the hidden depths of his own laboratory, Silas hunched over a sprawling workbench littered with holographic diagrams and shimmering vials of strange concoctions. The light flickered eerily, reflecting the intensity in his gaze as he scrutinized the blueprints from Las Noches.

His focus was singular: to expand upon and improve Szayelaporro's research. Research, after all, was the backbone of Silas's plans, and recalibrating the flow of information would be crucial to undermining his control from the inside out.

The Arrancar's devices were crude and inefficient. But within the intricate schematics, Silas saw room for vast improvement.

With delicate adjustments and the integration of his advanced knowledge, he could create a network.

The ingredients required, however, were not easily found in Hueco Mundo's barren sands. His gaze shifted to a list of exotic components he had cross-referenced against the resources he already had at hand. To his frustration, several crucial materials were missing.

There was truly only one place, one squad, likely to possess such rare and esoteric substances: squad twelve.

It's no wonder Szayelaporro's devices seemed lacking. The Arrancar didn't have the rich resources to fuel and make them potent.

Silas, however, was not Szayelaporro. He grabbed a piece of cloth and a vial, hiding them in his garment. It was time to pay another visit to the Seireitei.

Silas slipped into the Seireitei under the cover of night, his spiritual pressure masked, his presence indistinguishable from others.

He navigated the familiar streets with ease; the layout of the Soul Society was no more than remembering what was in his backyard. Retsu's quarters would be the first stop. He needed to confirm that his actions from months ago had not been discovered yet.

As he approached her residence, he peered discreetly through the shoji screens and saw Retsu asleep.

Her breathing was even. Even in repose, she exuded an aura of calm strength, as if asleep but also awake at the same time.

Her Zanpakutō, Minazuki, rested at the foot of her futon. Silas's gaze narrowed. Everything appeared normal. No heightened vigilance, no hint of suspicion. It seemed neither Retsu nor her Zanpakutō had yet discovered the truth of their broken Bankai.

But there was no time to waste. He would rectify the situation soon enough.

Moving with precision, he slipped through the open window. The intrusion was eerily familiar. He crossed the room with silent footsteps, approaching the sleeping captain.