Three hundred years ago, the army of Hueco Mundo descended, and Seireitei was on the brink of ruin.
A Garganta opened above Seireitei, and Menos Grande bearing an unusual aura poured out like a tide. The Gotei 13 suffered heavy casualties.
At that moment, a crack split open the sky.
A man in blue stepped out of the rift. He stood between Seireitei and the army of Hollows, his robes fluttering though there was no wind, his expression calm.
“Need a hand?”
Three days later, Hueco Mundo was quiet.
Three hundred years later, that man's disciple once again set foot in this land.
