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Alas, the winged creature that stood before them felt the weight of destruction. Felt the shift in the sands with the emergence of the God-King. He too was apart of the chain of events that lead to the awakening of the ever-elusive Marcos. A maelstrom of spiritual pressure extracts from the statues that burst all at once, conjoining in the sky before collapsing downward, swallowing the gargoyle whole. Vincent finds himself taking a single leap backward allowing himself a wider view of the spectacle.
Such an awakening was familiar to one he had seen a few hours prior. Like a new star above, the light of his evolution shown like a beacon stretching upward then dying back down as his human form presents itself. His Copper flesh had an earthy quality, stone-like and rugged. He had pointed ears, and a stern expression on his face, the fragments of his mask remaining on the right side of his face.
“Strong...
…you are both-
“MY AMIGO! BRING HIM BACK!!”
He is then cut short, a flash of pink overtakes him from his right side, the air is rocked with a cry never observed from Marcos before. What accompanies his shriek is a distinctive
ZZzzt
It was a savage grating noise that hovered in the air seconds after impact prompted by a surge of spiritual pressure. The fresh Arrancar is sent hurling into a nearby dune. Dust latches onto his vessel, creating a trail. It fails to maintain its grip at the peak of his velocity. He collides with, forcing an emission of dust and stone to churn up into the air.
A
clean strike.
Izzy rises amidst the darkness, a silhouette. As the dust peels back, his stone-encrusted flesh is revealed. It crumbles off him, revealing fresh, less than fatal wounds mark along the ridge of his shoulder, down his side.
“What is this… Amigo you speak of?” he asks in a slow, slurred voice.
Oi Marcos...Juega bein (Play Nice); Mijo. he commands. His voice mellow, like the strum of a guitar.
Vincent’s gaze fixates in the direction of the change in the air. The free and…hollow atmosphere of Hueco Mundo, becomes stifling. Stale and enclosing. The desert was cold and empty sure…
But this….
this was confining..
His tail swivels in the direction of the disturbance, as the strange and familiar spiritual pressure radiates against the firmament. Hells hinges burst, the very stench of that
place oozes out over the dunes. His perception widens, like an astral projection his consciousness soars across the moonlit sky like a star. Though standing among his fellow Arrancar; it is as though he stands just beyond the Hell creatures grasp. He observes its form, takes in the image.
What a foul creature…He had almost forgotten it. That inkling of claustrophobia. That eternity of war. Like a battle drum, its presence brought something from beneath the surface.
Oblivion escaped him, like a stream of blood it was thick and heavy. The beauty these hues held was ominous, as one gazed upon it an instinct arose to never touch. Any decent Pesquisa would lead its Arrancar to much the same conclusion; Never touch that spirit energy. Never even get close.
But even one with unblind eyes could see the sand beneath his feet, fading from existence. Vincent resolves himself, crossing his arms he rises into the air a few feet. As though he was in a trance, he idles in complete silence for a number of moments, unphased, at least on the surface by what is behind him.
”Tell me, Niño fresco. (New Child)
…Do you recall your name?
He can sense the unease within him. Of course, the feeling was mutual. Even if he did not recall it, or had he yet to come up with one.
” Accept what you are feeling. How it makes even El Vacío (The Empty) like us…Feel.
But fear not.
I am what centuries of their torment reaps.
His arms raise into the air like that of a conductor, orchestrating a song.
” Even the creatures of the underworld must too...
face destruction.”
He turns his head to face them now. The flustered Marcos and the uncaring izzy. There was no judgment in his eyes. But his words held a conviction like no other.
” Want to test the new Legs?
He was reluctant to launch himself into the fray with the beasts from hell. Did the others have the strength to defy Los Diablos? Would he lose the entire force he was amassing on the first day?
He looked onward at the towering Las Noches in the background. The door to hell was equally in view. There was always a risk in those from beyond. Vincent smirks to himself. He would not wait long for a response. Just long enough for them to gather the thought.
"Ready for La batalla..." (the battle)
"They will not leave otherwise."
He steps off the air and takes off into the moonlit sky, his reiatsu like a comet in the sky. He would arrive a few yards away from the hell beast, how far? One could not say for sure. This time his landing is much more gentle, his knees bend to suppress a bit of the impact. As he stands back up straight he turns around to face the creature from hell.
Cómo se dice... Togabito?. Vincent was not far from Marcos, who from where he stood could now see him clearly. He offers no words, a number of dunes apart from their new intruder. What did the underworld have in store...
To the Self-proclaimed King, Of Hueco Mundo.
Elsewhere. Deep in the Forest of menos. An entirely different tale had been unfolding. A battle had unfolded just outside of the Kings gaze. But what had become of his eye? It had gone into hiding after being injured by the Vasto Lorde. Half of his body had been evicerated by the power of the wayward star. Half of his torso, gone in an instant. But he had survived, now wandering through the dark crystalline foliage. His arm now fully restored, he chews on the remains of an unknown hollow for sustenance, drawing on its spiritual energy to restore what it had lost. Images of the Vasto Lorde flash in its newly born mind. Like a fixation, it replays it all over and over.
I'll Kill him...
I'll....Kill him...!
The little Hollow continues on, hobbling between the space in between ‘trees’. The glow of destruction was the only source of light in the space. For most of his time here, it had remained dim and almost unnoticeable. This allowed him to go largely unnoticed and unsensed as he hustled about. The emergence of the hell gate seemed to agitate Vincent from afar, which in turn would come to affect the little eye as well. He became invigorated by the increase in destruction. As he continues onward, he comes across a strange sight. Onward in the dark, a boar headed being in black sneaks through the dark. Far enough away to spot the small creatures glow, but distant enough not to truly make out what it was. He sensed the presence of the hell gate, but more importantly, he felt his masters unease. The reality was, he was in no shape to face it. All he could do, was act as he had been instructed, as his eye.
The shinigami's image becomes lost again in the forest obstructions. Though his image washes away in the dark, The small Hollow creeps it's way forward, like a beast he scurries swiftly up and across the upper canopy of the trees. Darting from one to the other, He zips along the outer edge of one, then with a leap, makes the small gap to another, until he is ten or so yards to the east of his position. With its right arm implanted, he hangs the rest of his body off the edge and watches the Pig as it hides in the dark. His head cocks to the side, clearly curious as to this thing's origins. The dangling corpse hangs in his empty hand, with a smirk, the creature takes aim, swinging the corpse back and forth, as if gauging the distance.
Little did they all know, that fate was moving forward across the realms. All of the shattered pieces, that had been scattered, were colliding, coming together onto the same path.
