Hunter and Hunted

In a crumbling shack, hidden from everyone's eyes, was a figure reading a book. This book wasn't an ordinary book; it was the Holy Bible.

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

It was Silas Wren, and the passage he had read was John 3:16.

This was the usual night for him in the Rukongai. Another peaceful time to preoccupy himself and be filled with faithful words of wisdom.

His prey, a trembling Soul whimpering in a corner, was an unremarkable creature, possessing only a flicker of spiritual pressure. It was exactly what Silas needed.

His presence no longer set off alarms in this world. The Hōgyoku had done more than simply grant him immortality, it had harmonized his spiritual powers. No longer Soul Reaper, nor Hollow, nor Quincy, he existed as a unique entity, a being outside the natural order. His powers, already formidable, were filled with boundless potential.

Yet, the Hōgyoku was a paradox—a power that came with a terrible price. The artifact fed on Souls themselves, not just on spirit particles, but the very essence of what this world constituted as existence. Hollows may have been a more efficient offerings, but their rare appearances made them volatile.

Silas rose, his orange hair shining in the light. The Soul, its eyes pleading, flinched away, but there was nowhere to run. His fate had been sealed the moment he crossed Silas's path.

Silas extended a hand, his palm glowing with an ethereal light. An involuntary scream tore from the Soul's throat as an irresistible force dragged it towards him. His form began to dissolve, wisps of his being swirling and condensing into Silas's waiting grasp.

The act was excruciating for the Soul. It was the sensation of having its very core ripped out. As the Soul's body flickered and dimmed, the Hōgyoku pulsed in Silas's chest, responding to the feeding.

The light in Silas's eyes grew brighter, and with a final, agonizing gasp, the Soul vanished, leaving almost nothing behind.

Silas felt a surge of power coursing through him.

It wasn't just the energy absorbed, it was the thrill of authority, the intoxicating rush of knowing he would be this world's most dominant force. Yet, even in the flush of victory, his expression remained laxed, unreadable, and knowing that nothing was worth celebrating.

Silas had walked the line between life and death too long. His body was now inviolable, Enrakyōten no longer able to do anything against the Hōgyoku's influence.

These moments of contemplation were brief. The Hōgyoku was insatiable, and so was he. Silas could no longer afford to linger on morality. Each act, no matter how despicable, brought him one step closer to his goal: returning to earth to see his beloved family again.

Months had slipped by since he acquired the Hōgyoku, each night a prompt that he was in another world, seeking redemption. After having discarded and destroying his Gigai, he kept the white dress shirt and black jeans as a reminder that he was not Ichigo Kurosaki.

The Hōgyoku glowed faintly within his chest. It was time to return to the laboratory and delve deeper into forbidden research. These things would dictate his next move.

The present offered only frustrating limitations. He could not take Aizen's Hōgyoku here, not yet. That moment existed in days to come, along with the captain's defeat. Altering this timeline could have catastrophic consequences.

Silas had, through his relentless journey, stumbled upon an interesting truth: time flowed in one direction. But one careless action could delay destiny or change the course of events. Therefore, this era became a twisted playground, a place to hone his power and lay the groundwork for things to come.

He returned to the laboratory. Having been well hidden, he had no thoughts of concealing it any further than how it already was.

Inside, the air was filled with dust from poor maintenance. Tools he'd scavenged and modified with his newfound understanding lay scattered across workbenches. Scrolls, yellow-aging paper, were dispersed everywhere. Silas didn't want to organize this place, knowing that a time would come when he would no longer use it.

For now, he bore with its dilapidation. He sat down on the only stable chair in the room, placed his elbow on the arm, and rested his chin on his fist.

Being in this world carried a lot of risks. As long as he was careful in his planning, he could always remain one step ahead of everyone. For this reason, he chose not to interact with any important characters inside the Soul Society or the world of the living.

However, that did not mean that there were other realms that he could influence. Bleach's main story took place in three different areas, a fourth only being referenced in Tite Kubo's other works.

Of those areas, only two received the most expansion. To understand how those areas differed from another, one would have to be a die-hard fan of the series.

Silas was not that. His knowledge of Bleach was only as evident as the average television viewer. Yet that didn't stop him from adapting. He had faith.

A sigh escaped his lips as a methodical plan in his mind again. He had been doing this for months, trying to remember every nook and cranny of this world that he could exploit. All without messing up the story's main premise.

This proved to be difficult since he was in the past. As long as this was the case, he had to continue waiting. Even if it took several more months, patience would be essential for what he had in mind.

His eyes remained closed as he imagined things. Memories of his loved ones could be seen. They were smiling and happy, something no character in this world could mimic.

It didn't matter how much a character from this world tried to show him a false sense of love. They weren't real. Meaning, every Soul Reaper, every Hollow, every Quincy, every moving thing—none of it would stop him from setting this world ablaze!