[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

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Argon exchanges a few words with the newfound arrancar. Vincent. Listens, locked in scrutiny of the newcomer. His eyes narrow like the edge of his blade, his expression bland, yet intentional.
" I am sure that I have felt his Reiatsu before, there was something familiar about it while fighting, unfortunately, I do not recall anything else about this being. The illusion or whatever ability allowed for us to take this gag seriously was impressive. For a second I thought you were the Hollow I have been seeking, but alas you are already evolved. "
He forces himself not to raise his brow. Those words caught his attention immediately. No...not already awakened. JUST awakened. Even with the peculiar haze that is his reiatsu, I've never mistaken the scent of an Arrancar...
His expression remains as dull as it had already been. He refused to give away his thought process. With a portion of this being's soul within him now, he begins to destroy his ignorance on just who and what he is. A new level of understanding is reached. With it, he begins to unravel portions of the mystery. Even with the stupified look on his face, Vincent is not convinced he is this foolish. He senses too much strength within for it to be true. At least...entirely.
” Oh wait, were you both talking to little ol’ me?”
Fool...! You heard us... He Silently squeezes the handle of his blade, that one was a shot at Vincent's patience. There is still a sizeable distance between both parties.
” Ah so you wanted to know what I learned from observing you? Why I’m here?”
He scatches at his body, each ulterior action driving a wave of agitation through Vincent's core. This one...was certainly one of those as he had thought before.
”You silly goose you. I told you, I learned you both are a HOOT. A real riot! You lot are much more amusing than you give yourselves credit for! So after learning this, I packed my bags and decided to officially become your Purrmera.” He lollygags about in the open air. The...flamboyant fluctuations in his voice are constant and annoying. Though to most, this would lead them to believe he is a crazed buffoon. Vincent is never to quick to pass judgment. No matter how easy it would be to do. ” As far as the games….you mean you didn’t have fun? I thought everyone loved games! Who doesn’t love a good game after all?!”
So he is aware of the ranking given to El Espada. Hmph...despite only just becoming an Arrancar himself? An honest fool would have little need for that information...meaning that his behavior is some degree misleading. An eye will need to be kept on him.
There is another mention of the word Primera though. Was that not the rank Argon fancied himself. Vincent cared little for the specifics. He only cared if those he encountered would fight in his place. How mattered little more than why. He still had to uncover the truth about himself. Though the more he interacted with his kind, the further along he got on that path.
”Huh, what’s that? Ah sorry sorry, yea yea. What? REALLY? NO, I’M NOT GOING TO KILL HIM! Sheesh.”
”People can be so rude! Am I right, or am I, right fellas?”

Vincent chooses not to address this last bit. Regardless of the reason, it means little to engage anything that is not of importance with this one, lest you allow him to drag you into the depths of idiocy and madness. The Cero in his free hand is heavy, the air around him becomes difficult to stand in, especially for the present Argon. It is then after his questions are answered that the God-King speaks once more.
So you have come to work. Hmphhmph...Very well. What number matters not to me. That is for you lot to decide. .
His eyes trail down to the scuff marks on his wrist, present from the clashing of attacks just moments before.
I only received this because I allowed myself too. Such a negligible wound Is hardly the mark of an Espada...
Allow me...
His limb lifts from its resting position, turning so that his palm faces downward.
the privilege of a brief exchange?
His hand carrying the mass of destruction jolts forward in the Arrancars direction, his imprint remains, arm extended as if firing the Cero. From this position, a surge of his spiritual pressure is felt sternly. Everything about this image is corporeal. It has form, carrying the same spiritual signature and physical presence of Vincent himself. Within a moment later, negligible microseconds, a fraction of a second later there is a shift. From above, his senses would alert him to a sea of force. It is as though a similar lag in perception occurs, From several dozen meters above a vast shadow is cast, from a small orb its expansion is instant, the light from the moon blanketed by the illustrious luminesce of destruction. By the time this phenomenon is properly observed, a single bzzzzzt the result of a Sonido is heard just moments before impact. It is as though he has mimicked the elusive nature of Marco's himself. Though this is more so a result of immense power. When Vincent did decide to use his Sonido, he did so faster than the sound could be heard. This was no normal Sonido, but rather, the result of the Gemelos Sonido. The user moves swift enough to leave behind an image of themselves capable of bleeding and taking damage.

Barreling forth, the energy converges into a single point. Tendrils of catastrophy encircle the larger mass of spiritual power, realizing itself at the blast epicenter. If nothing is done. If Marcos is foolish enough to be consumed in the Cero of destruction itself, his form would be enshrouded in fate. light would devour his form and he would be erased from existence. This was the nature of destruction. A tower of light would ensue, ripping and shredding at the fabric of reality itself. He had held this technique for such a long time. When the light show subsided and the dust settled, a large hole could be observed, large waterfalls of sand plummeting into unknown depths. Above the god-king stood, his hand extended downward. He hadn't any idea what to expect, but all of his attention was on his opponent. Not only his physical form but rather, his physical form concerning his Reiatsu. Were his suspicions correct? Had he cracked it already? Unlikely. But he was far closer than any other had surely gotten. He was certain that it would be troublesome to get direct information from this...Marcos. It was best to keep one's intentions to oneself as not to give too much away. That being the conclusion the God-King came up with upon this initial meeting.

Space and time seem to converge onto a single point, crackling and rumbling in response to such monstrous energy. It persists for several moments before erupting in all directions. The air is drowned in light. The shockwave alone is enough to destroy a lesser Hollow, whilst even an experienced Arrancar would do well not to be struck with such a cero head-on. The resulting destruction is cataclysmic. The Very desert is shaken to its very core. Even miles away, lesser hollows fade from existence as a pulse of reiatsu washes across the dunes. Hundreds become fuel for the god-king, as their essence converges on his position. If he dies, then so be it. That annoyance would be out of both their hair. If he lives, however, then he will be recognized as an Espada, though vincent would refuse to choose which. Such trivial matters were left to those who sought it out. There will have been plenty of merit in his survival. How then would the newborn Arrancar respond to such disastrousness? Would his growth be stunted immediately after his evolution, or would he make child's play of such an egregious display of destruction, earning himself a place amongst Hueco Mundo's most powerful?
Vincent stands upside down, peering down at the chasm he has just created. The entirety of his beast-like senses working in tandem in order to ensure that his calculations were indeed correct. How then, would the cat respond.

 

[BSD]

In the time that had elapsed with the death of the Tiger Adjuchas, Tiran was already under attack by two more Hollows, of lesser strength than him. Aragon had broken his mask earlier, so the forest of menos saw this opportunity to take out a prehistoric king, but none of which were worthy enough, as he ambushed them and ate them like a wild animal, his jaw strength and acid saliva unwavered by his new size. Each enemy gave him newfound strength, however they'd all stopped fighting when they heard a rumbling in the distance, toward the desert.
Tiran knew what it was, the other Hollows did not. Tiran mumbled under his breath as he took cover in the nearby underbrush. Then the shockwave came. The other hollows that remained were eaten by the shockwave around him, as well as the ones he'd already taken out. He popped back out and smashed a tree to the ground. How was he going to get stronger if this guy's rage destroyed all the little hollows or sent them into hiding. he stomped on the tree.
"DAMN YOU! I WAS EATING THAT MYSELF!"
The wind blast would come after, and blow Tiran from his nest, him grabbing onto another tree for dear life to keep from going too far and getting lost in the sands. He'd sit back up, his glasses broken and sideways, his hair crazy and messed up like einstein almost, a certain dizziness in his eyes.
"Sheesh, He blows harder than a tornado in the middle of a trailer park."
He'd throw a rock toward the desert.
"knock it off ya heavy hairy gorilla!"

 

[BSD]

Aragon shifted idly as the man began speaking, Something about him was giving him a feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. Ever since the Espada fell apart and he proclaimed to be the strongest among them it went widely unchallenged. Yet here in the flesh was another living being that could, maybe help him advance. ”Oh wait, were you both talking to little ol’ me?” He points to himself as he asks in a manner of voice that makes Aragon jerk as if he were to spit on the ground, yet only a small 'TCH' nose came from him as he looked away from the Arrancar. Aragon puts his hands in his pocket and turns back awaiting the answer. ”Ah so you wanted to know what I learned from observing you? Why I’m here?” He then proceeds to scratch himself like a cat, unconscious or and active act to annoy Aragon, it made a vein in Aragon's forehead stick out. Then taking those same hands and picking at them in front of him. A bead of sweat starts to form near the vein. Aragon's fist would clench inside his pocket. This guy is so unclean, He thought. Snapping out of this trance at the sound of his voice once more.
”You silly goose you. I told you, I learned you both are a HOOT. A real riot! You lot are much more amusing than you give yourselves credit for! So after learning this, I packed my bags and decided to officially become your Purrmera.” So he was here to fight after all. Unless he had some other way to decide who would take the spot. This feeling all of a sudden made Aragon want to smile, he compresses this emotion however, and instead he closes his eyes before nodding for the man to continue. ”As far as the games….you mean you didn’t have fun? I thought everyone loved games! Who doesn’t love a good game after all?!”
Aragon's eyes narrowed at the feline Arrancar. He sensed nothing but whimsy from the creature. He also felt the intense reiatsu flooding out of him, If it was a game or not if he had control over that reiatsu was another thing. Finally smirking Aragon would look over to Vincent, who had yet to extinguish the massive amount of Reiatsu that was nearly searing Aragon's skin having been so close too it. Marcos would then start to look back and forth until almost randomly speaking out. ”Huh, what’s that? Ah sorry sorry, yea yea. What? REALLY? NO, I’M NOT GOING TO KILL HIM! Sheesh.” He returns his attention to the other two Arrancar present, huffing out in annoyance. ”People can be so rude! Am I right, or am I right fellas?” Aragon then noticed the man glimpse down at his Zanpakuto. A glimmer of light shooting off it. For a fraction of a second Aragon could of swore it moved. Then as Aragon presumed, although maybe unexpectedly to the God King himself, Vincent did the first true act of him old self.
"So you have come to work. Hmphhmph...Very well. What number matters not to me. That is for you lot to decide. ."
His eyes trail down to the scuff marks on his wrist, present from the clashing of attacks just moments before.
"I only received this because I allowed myself too. Such a negligible wound Is hardly the mark of an Espada..."
"Allow me..."
His limb lifts from its resting position, turning so that his palm faces downward.
"The privilege of a brief exchange?"
Without thinking, The sheer muscle memory response of having seen the King attack like this before propelled Aragon's body into a mass of Sonido. Using every fraction of his Reiatsu to focus on his speed, and escaping upward. Aragon would become several clones as he shot up and up. As he used Sonido the sheer raw power of Vincent's blast could be felt pushing him even further. Higher and Higher, Aragon kept going knowing the radius of this Cero would destroy nearly everything inside Las Noches. 'Dammit!' Aragon through as the end of his climb was near. The massive ceiling of Las Noches was now upon him. Spinning around and allowing his back to slam into the sky mirage of a roof. He felt his Hierro crack along with visible craters forming along the sky. He focused his entire being into fortifying his Double Hierro and then covered his body by tucking in.
For then, A pressure that next to no other being in Hueco Mundo would have felt resonates into him, Smashing him into the structure behind him. Aragon demands his Reiatsu to harden as it begins to visible be eaten away by the raw rush of chromatic Reiatsu. His body engulfs in a massive draconian looking aura, with pink and black hues fighting against the chromatic energy. Creating fractures of prismatic light beckoning like a second sun in the sky.
Sound was obsolete in this new universe of pressure.
The sound of energy sheering against each other drowned out whoever was screaming
was it Aragon? No, His teeth were clenched so tight his gums were bleeding.
The god king's blast then resonated it's final roar. The entire world felt like it was shaking. Aragon's senses were on fire, yet even then he could feel lesser life forms becoming eradicated. Slowly all he could feel was The God King's massive force of will. Right when he thought he would have to release to his full power, a massive;
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAACK!"
Suddenly Aragon had a breath of fresh air, He was shot out of the ceiling through a massive hole. He sailed through the air, allowing his body to restore some vitality, staring at the beautiful nights sky as he went. Crash landing a few yards away from the fifty foot radius of the hole he made. Aragon could still see Vincent's massive Energy cascade upward through the hole. Crash landing on his back and skidding a while longer, Aragon would slowly come to a stop. As he lay there on top of the massive dome. He could still feel the walls rumbling as the devastation waged on. He hoped that cat Arrancar made it. Thing's always blow up right before they get interesting.
Always the optimist, Aragon would slowly stand, and reach into his coat to pull a secondary pair of glasses out. Only with a minor crack to the outside of the frame, he set them on his face and dusted himself off. " Boy, o Boy. Sure look's like Vincent is back. About time. " He would then twist his head from side to side, loud pops coming from the bones. Adjusting his Glasses Aragon then await his challenger under the night of Hueco Mundo.

 

[BSD]

As Marcos speaks, nearly every other word, if not every word in its entirety spoken, leads the God King to grow impatient, aggravated, annoyed. Though his face becomes a vault, locking his emotions behind a stoic gaze. His grip upon his blade grows tighter as he silently endures. Like Vincent Aragon watches, he listens and observes behind a wall of silence. Unlike Vincent, his base emotions reflected in his body’s jerk and twitch, the vein pulsating furiously as the current Primera restrains his base instincts to the best of his ability. From the bead of sweat trickling down, it was quite the ordeal.
Vincent, still manages the Cero in his hand, the destructive chromatic sphere stiffening and disturbing the very atmosphere around him. His questions answered, but curiosity not yet sated, he finally addresses the new arrancar once more.
So you have come to work. Hmphhmph...Very well. What number matters not to me. That is for you lot to decide. .” His dark gaze shifts, drifting over to marks lingering on his wrist. ”I only received this because I allowed myself too. Such a negligible wound Is hardly the mark of an Espada... Allow me…” He explains, as if to clear up any unvoiced assumptions or misunderstandings of not only Marcos’s strength, but his own as well.
Vincent lifts his arm over his head, his palm facing the false sky acting as a canopy over the endless sea of white that was Hueco Mundo. Above him, far beyond the scope of natural eyes lies the evidence of the God King’s clash with the Vasto Lorde. Their battle was truly a dramatic one, the force of their colliding powers enough to chip and carve away at a sizeable portion of the protective dome. ”The privilege of a brief exchange?” He asks, the question posed more of a statement — evident by both tone...and action.
Pink slitted hues twinkle with a flash of pink fluorescence as Marcos’s eyes flutter while gazing upon the stern countenance of Vincent, watching as the hand supporting the dense cero juts his way. Marcos is left to behold and marvel at the action, the now slightly dilated slit on the pink jewel embedded in his zanpakuto slightly tilted upward, not unlike Marcos twinkles briefly with a fluorescent pink. Almost concurrently the Arrancar is suffused beneath a massive shadow, his form and reiatsu impressed within Vincent’s gaze and his spiritual eye from the intensity of his fierce scrutiny — a fact perhaps shared with the constantly vigilant Aragon who’s mind’s eye remains ever at work.
All light is quickly drowned out, smothered from the light of the spiraling prism of colors compacted into a single, massive destructive sphere. A sphere cast to swallow Marcos, the desert sands, the trees, the rocks and any creature unfortunate enough to be anywhere within many miles of Vincent’s display of force.
BZZZZZT
The sound of Vincent’s sonido announces his movements, many times slower than the actual act itself, far too late to be of any real use in determining what was going on.
Aragon, perhaps the God King’s closest confidant, had long since propelled himself to draw as much distance as possible. An instinctive fear of what he knew was to come sends him retreating in an act of self preservation. He knows without needing to bear witness to any of Vincent’s actions, the destruction that would be unleashed.

There is an almost serene silence that befalls Hueco Mundo, Marcos’s form quickly swallowed up, obscured in the blinding light and swirl of colors. There is stillness, the barreling force of destruction converging on a single point bereft of the feline’s reiatsu, and then there is
DESTRUCTION
A tower of light illuminates nearly the entire desert, sheering away at sand, air, reishi, space, time, reality itself. The light eventually begins to recede back into the void it was conjured from, a massive hole becoming visible, sand cascading into depths far to deep for the end to be seen from atop.
The aftershock of Vincent’s wanton attack strikes hard, fierce, and unexpectedly. It catches any and all in the area off guard. Space and time forcefully compressed onto a single point, the strain alone causing the air and ground to ripple and quake before finally it detonates with fury. The blast expands outward, consuming all beneath the blinding and destructive glow of its light, the world once more becoming blinded.
"CRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAACK!"
Aragon is sent hurtling through the false dome, struggling to maintain his composure and very life even at such a distance. As Vincent stands in constant observation, lingering upside down, Aragon comes skidding to a final stop at a distance above the dome. He quickly gains his bearings. " Boy, o Boy. Sure look's like Vincent is back. About time. " He exclaims, clearly pleased and satisfied with the actions of his lord.
As it all settles, and the destruction fades death and ruin become all that is visible and perceived upon Hueco Mundo’s floor of white, now greatly marred. Would the desert ever truly recover from such reckless abuse of power? No hollows are seen straggling behind, injured or even dead. No corpses remain in the wake of Vincent’s cero, for how could they? The impression of Marcos’s reiatsu and form, like all life beneath the gaze of the God King’s focus...gone. As a newly evolved Arrancar, perhaps his was still too new, his powers too immature for a test of this magnitude, to face a power of such scope. The only sounds that now persist, are the falling of sand into the bottomless chasm birthed from the chromatic Cero.

 

[BSD]

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Swirls of pigment compound in a single spot, their amalgamation a tumultuous ballad of drums and horns. From the darkness of the heavens, they triumph, illuminating that same very sky in a long-lasting flash. Very few within the area are spared, baring the most tenacious amongst them. The impact of its noise submerged Hueco Mundo in a sea. Everything that hit the ears became muffled. Some would say that such a sound could even be heard from across space and time, should any perceptive enough have been listening. The grand display of light is the first thing to subside.
Steadily darkness reemerges over the land.
Though, It is a long time before the ground ceases its quaking. Minutes later more and more quakes plague the desert. inevitably, The very air becomes still once more. A heavy stir of silence blankets the barren dunes. All that can be heard is the permanent hush of sand, falling into the invite depths below.
Vincent exalts at his display. He had truly forgotten his strength. Who he was. He had become lost in the memories of all that made his being. A King who is unaware of himself remains none the wiser. He lifts his left hand into the air, facing the moon. The shadow cast over his face and a gust of wind followed, rustling his unkempt hair. The dry breeze was refreshing enough. So this is what the power of destruction is capable of...
What I'm..capable of.

Then came a rush in spiritual pressure, from the horizon. A flush of luminosity coagulated around Estragos, embracing him and the blade. From all directions, this rush of power consumed him, obscuring his image from the prying eyes of those around him. Within, the blade became full of souls, which expanded its weight in his hand. He struggled to maintain his grip of it, before the energy began to force its way into his being. It felt both invasive and welcoming all at the same time.

like a storm, it swirled about almost chaotically at first. Then the flow of energy changed, coursing downward attempting to take shape. It envigorated his form. It had been a long time since he had consumed the life of others, the cycle of recycling his strength inorganically due to hells environment was a painstaking procedure. But this? Magnficicent!
The spiritual energy expands and contracts, compressing into a solid form. The Cero that had been fired previously was chaotic and loud, its expression was instantaneous and proud. This was something else entirely. The way the energy moved and shifted about was intelligent, deliberate, some may even call it sinister, others would see beauty. All were excellent names for the timeless act of destruction.
When the spiritual energies radiance began to dim, what remained was Vincent. He had lost several inches, but the very weight and quality of his soul had surpassed what he had been just moments before. Much of the bone that had covered his body had cracked apart and crumbled off, revealing the brown of his flesh beneath. Highly packed muscles riddled his frame. Black and white bone encompassed much of the rest of his body, as behind him a large mace-like extremity swayed left and right. His arms crossed over one another. Within, a rush of each spirit's experience flashed in his mind for but an instant. Everything that they had been, all that they had known and see within that desert and beyond. He was all that they would become in the end.
And in the end, the king is left only to stare at the moon in silence. His voice calls out into the desert, a beacon. All that remains can hear his call. He loses no clarity in such vast reverberance. His words ring true to any who heard him.

"Destruction! Is the End of ALL things...!"

He pauses, his arms thrust outward, extended his claws to the sky.
"I am the END of ALL THINGS!
For a time he rests here, diverting his attention from the moons grace to the hole he had formed below. He had never once seen this form before. This much he knew. Though only figments of his old self remained, his purpose reigned true. This realization in strength had given him everything he needed. Be it the Soul Society, The world of the living, Hueco Mundo, or hell. Vincent would assure the destruction of all of it. The very end of existence itself. This was the only truth he could recognize. The strength this pure could do nothing more. There could be no other way. He marveled at the flow of energy that ran through his body. With so much within, he still felt that he could house more. There was no limit. He could FEEL it. He knew this. There was power yet still untapped within his being. He chuckled to himself, realizing what it is he had been experiencing. This was his true form. His release state. It had triggered without his knowing it. This had caused him to forget why this had occured, and such a realization would swiftly come over him. Heheeh..thats right. Marcos..."
Whether or not Marcos, Or Argon, or Nicolas, or any of the other Hollows hidden away in their burrows survived the blast mattered little in his mind. Their assistance was welcomed but not required. Though he could not sense his energy anymore, there was now a connection between them that could never be severed. Something within him, his every instinct and drive told him that the odd entity had not yet met his fated destruction. The very matter of his ascension to that of an Arrancar was in question. He was an enigma, for sure.
Hmph...No matter...
I'll have to thank him later.
for allowing me to find myself.
Somehow he felt there would be some sort of return or emergence. Who and when anyone showed their face was of little consequence. They could either be destroyed now or share in on the end of all things on their terms. Such was the fate of any who chose these spiritual battlefields. Such was the will of Vincent Bautista, The God-King of Hueco Mundo.
This was the day that Las Noches, in its Chaos, and supposed lack of leadership
Waged War on Existence.

He lowered himself to what remained of the Fortress's outer shell. Around him stone crumbled and shattered into the sand below, other portions of tower and wall faltered into the darkness of the world below. What then would this Arrancar do? Had he truly fallen to the God-King? Would the others be too afraid to approach? One could only guess what the future would be like within the dunes of Hueco Mundo.