Barragan's weathered face remained impassive, but he did have his suspicions. He crossed his arms, his posture resolute, rumbling, "And why is that, lord Ichigo?"
"Because, Barragan," Silas said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "We have something to discuss."
The two figures exited the throne room, the large doors swinging shut behind them with a resounding thud.
Where they walked was the vast expanse of Las Noches' central grounds outside.
The midday sun, a simulated light in the blue sky, was high above, casting shadows across the bone-white sand. In the distance, atop the tallest tower of the fortress, tiny figures huddled together, black specks against the palace.
The Espada was, no doubt, eager to witness whatever spectacle Silas had planned.
Barragan surveyed the scene, his gaze lingering on the distant figures as he said, "This is a rather unorthodox setting for a private conversation; wouldn't you agree?" His voice was laced with a hint of amusement.
Silas ignored the question. Instead, he stopped in the center, his posture relaxing yet unreadable.
"The theatrics are for their benefit," he said, gesturing towards the distant figures. "A constant reminder of who holds the leash."
Barragan snorted, making a sound like dry leaves rustling in the wind.
"Leash, you say? It seems you have a rather… pragmatic view of leadership."
"Pragmatic? Why, Barragan, I didn't expect you to be the scholarly type. But please be more genuine in your… loyalty. Silas's voice dropped to a low growl. "Loyalty is a fickle thing. Especially amongst those who have tasted power."
Barragan met Silas's gaze unflinchingly, replying, "Are you implying something?" It was clear there was a dangerous undercurrent.
"Merely stating a fact," Silas countered. "You, Barragan, are a relic of a bygone era. A king without a throne. Think I don't know your desire to return to that position?"
To be called a relic was the last straw. Barragan's hand instinctively moved towards his Zanpakutō, the anger within him finally boiling over. Sensing Barragan's rising fury, Silas raised a placating hand. He covered the distance in one instance without anyone seeing, preventing the Hollow from drawing his sword.
His sheer speed was enough to leave the spectators breathless! Not a single one of them saw when he had taken a step.
"Anger can sometimes cloud judgement," Silas said, his voice smooth as silk. "But perhaps we can come to an understanding."
Barragan's eyes were agape, slowly narrowing to meet Silas's. His suspicion was now far from abated, as he growled, "What kind of understanding?"
"One where obedience is absolute and dissent is met swiftly. Why else would you think Sol was wearing a collar? It's not just for show, Barragan, but a reminder. A reminder of the consequences of disobedience."
Barragan's eyes moved toward the spectators. Though they were far away, he could still see the collar, a cold dread creeping into his heart.
He understood now. Silas wasn't just consolidating his power; he was dismantling the Espada. He was replacing them, one by one, with creatures he could control with a mere flick of his wrist. And Barragan, the former king, was to be cast aside like a broken toy!
"And what role do you envision for me in all this?" Barragan finally inquired, his voice laced with bitter resignation.
"No role," Silas declared. "But perhaps… A retirement."
This was the final insult to the old king's pride. Barragan wouldn't be a king, wouldn't be an advisor, and wouldn't even be a threat. He would be nothing but another servant. But that same old king wouldn't go down without a fight.
With a guttural roar that echoed across the vast plaza, his spiritual pressure erupted outward, a tidal wave of his raw power that cracked the bone-white sand beneath his feet.
"Decay… Arrogante!"
His body began to transform, his aged figure morphing into a grotesque parody of a king. Grandeur replaced wrinkles, a skeletal crown materialised on his head, and a long, tattered cloak billowed behind him. This was his Resurrección, Arrogante, and it had been fully activated!
In this form, Barragan's natural abilities are released. And there was one particular ability that everyone knew about.
He raised a skeletal hand, his spiritual pressure rising with malevolent energy. A massive chunk of the bone-white sand beneath his hand liquefied, transforming into a swirling vortex of decay.
"Respira!" he roared, unleashing his signature technique. A wave of putrid, dark purple mist, capable of rotting anything it touched, engulfed Silas!
From within, Barragan heard scoffing.
With a blur of movement, Silas sidestepped outside the deadly miasma, appearing several meters away with incredible agility. It seemed as though the attack was missed. Barragan, fueled by rage and desperation, lunged forward, his skeletal arm swinging towards Silas in a bone-crushing blow.
Silas didn't even bother drawing a weapon. He simply raised his arm and met Barragan's attack head-on. A sickening crack echoed across the grounds as Barragan's fist connected with Silas' forearm. But instead of shattering bone, the force of the blow seemed to dissipate harmlessly.
Barragan stared in disbelief as Silas, completely unscathed, flicked his wrist with a casual grace. In his hand, a normal katana with a guard shaped like an hourglass materialized. It was Sakanade, Shinji Hirako's Zanpakutō, a prize that Silas subdued after defeating all the Visored.
Without a single flourish, Silas lunged forward, the blade blurring as it sliced through Barragan's skeletal arm with an ease that bordered on mockery.
Disbelief morphed into pure terror in Barragan's eyes. His Resurrección offered immense power, but only against those weaker in spiritual pressure. Against Silas, the difference was a chasm. Respira couldn't work on him!
The old king tried to defend himself, but it was a futile exercise. Silas moved like a whirlwind, his blade blurring with deadly precision. A gash appeared across Barragan's chest, then another on his leg. With every strike, the former king's movements grew sluggish, his once-proud posture crumbling.
The spectators were amazed at how incredible Silas's combat prowess was. They all knew he was strong, but to think the difference in power against a high-ranking Espada member was so vast!