The Judgment of Chains
Riddle struggled, his golden eyes burning with fury as the chains of Mors Vincula tightened around him. The energy radiating from them was unlike anything he had ever encountered—primal, absolute, unrelenting.
He let out a furious snarl, his dark energy surging outward, attempting to break free—
But the chains did not yield.
Harry stood firm, his grip steady on the elongated shaft of his fully released Zanpakutō. The weapon was no longer just an extension of his soul—it was the embodiment of something far greater.
“Do you feel it?” Harry asked, his voice eerily calm. “This isn’t just my power. This is something older than you. Older than me.”
Riddle gritted his teeth, his body twitching as the chains dug deeper into his corrupted form. “You think you can judge me?” he hissed. “You are nothing but a child wielding power beyond your comprehension!”
Harry’s green eyes glowed.
“I don’t have to judge you,” he said simply. “The chains do that themselves.”
Riddle screamed as the chains suddenly pulled—not just at his body, but at something deeper. The very essence of his existence began to unravel, as if the power of Mors Vincula was reaching past the physical, binding something far worse than flesh and spirit.
Ichigo and Renji, watching from the battlefield, could only stare.
Renji swallowed. “What… the hell is that power?”
Ichigo’s grip tightened around his Zanpakutō. “That’s not just a normal Bankai,” he muttered. “That’s something else.”
Harry stepped forward, the weight of his power settling over everything. The air trembled under his control.
“You don’t belong here,” Harry said, his voice unwavering. “You never did.”
Riddle clawed at the chains, his twisted form thrashing. “NO! I REFUSE TO BE ERASED! I AM BEYOND DEATH! I AM—”
Harry swung.
The moment the scythe completed its arc, the chains ignited, flashing with spectral light—
And then Riddle shattered.
Not like a body turning to dust.
Not like a soul being purified.
But like a concept being erased.
For a brief second, the golden glow of his eyes flickered—then vanished forever.
And just like that, Tom Riddle was gone.
No remnants. No echoes.
Just… silence.
The battlefield stood still. The oppressive air of Hueco Mundo lifted, as if the land itself recognized that something unnatural had been removed from existence.
Harry exhaled, the chains of his Zanpakutō slowly retracting, settling into a quiet hum. His body felt heavy, but he remained standing.
Ichigo walked up beside him, eyes still on the place where Riddle had disappeared. “That was…” He hesitated, then finally looked at Harry. “What the hell are you?”
Harry didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at his scythe, its silver glow dimming now that its duty was complete.
For the first time since waking in the Soul Society, he felt something clear—a weight that had always been there but was only now beginning to make sense.
He wasn’t just a Soul Reaper.
He was something more.
Something older than even death itself.
And now… he had the power to choose what came next.