[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

Izzy’s sloth-like gaze drags across the sands of alabaster, his orbs of topaz scan the hellish gate. His expression is illuminated by the well of power that fulminates in the distance. Just as it burns and festers, growing to become a maleficent and grotesque force, it fades away. The power of the God-King vanishes with it—without the powerful signatures acting as an anchor for his attention, Izzy who lacks the curiosity, loses interest entirely. He hasn’t the slightest care, the slightest inclination to go and investigate. He was a simple creature, even in advanced form, focused only on what could quench a rather insatiable thirst. His expression lays stagnant like stone—unmoved—his neck turning back from facing the distant dunes to instead lock back onto the eccentric, and rather obnoxious Marcos.
“Huh? Wha? Why’d he leave?””
The very sound of his voice like nails on a chalkboard—the elusive cat seemed to be focused—at least momentarily—on the wellbeing of the destructive god king. Just as he was, he just as quick, wasn’t. His posture shifts, and Izzy can immediately tell that he has once again, become the center of attention.
“Now, as for YOU friend wrecker! You’re gonna make up for what you’ve done!”
The look of cluelessness along Izzy’s face is unmistakable, and mutates into more of a shocked look as Marco’s very presence begins to shift and distort. Slow, melancholy blinking motions seem to reassure that Marcos is still here, his physical specimen unperturbed. Without thinking twice, Izzy shakes the visual off as if nothing. Every grain of sand begins to shake, which he can feel—a loud and violent roar conquers the desert’s barren sands, and annoying the likes of marcos. Like most things, it lacks the ability to garner a reaction out of Izzy, yet the grinning schemer cannot help but voice his displeasure.
“GAH! WHO DID THAT?! WHOEVER YOU ARE, PIPE DOWN!
Yelling frantically, waving his hands about like a madman. Just what did he think that would solve? Ironically, the roaring ceased shortly after, but Izzy was under firm understanding that it was not tat the command of the purple-haired man. Although he was odd, all-but normal, He was the one and only thing since awakening that had Izzy the slightest bit intrigued.
Marcos settles, yet a change in his body language suggests he had come into contact with something rather.. unpleasant. A sluggish and manipulated voice box spews words from near them both. It takes only a second to identify it as an odd black ball, a product of some mutation or experiment. Regardless of the details, it was disgusting.
“Vincent has been captured by a Togabito from Hell. The throne is vacant, and I have a single prospect unless one of you is so bold enough to claim the title for yourself. He is calling the Espada and any Arrancar to converge in the New Las Noches castle, Just follow the light of the sun.”
Izzy remains silent, and as it was becoming somewhat of a pattern, Marcos did not.
“Wha?Talk about a face that only a mother could love.”
“Please, consume us, you'll need your strength to cross the desert.”
Marcos pokes and prods as the mouth speaks. Izzy’s expression displays that he is unimpressed with the request. Not remotely enough power was detected from this small, malformed creature that warranted the effort that came with consuming it. Perhaps in a few hundred years time, under a bed of stone, it would become a worthy meal. Izzy slowly inches forward, every intention of starting his collection entirely over beginning with this misshapen messenger. Marcos acts first, however. His sharpened nail digs into the massive singular eye the creature boats, causing tears to flow from the individual socket. As opposed to a cry of pain, the mouth unleashes groans of content—seemingly bred for the purpose of being abused and or destroyed.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHAH, YOU GOTTA BE KITTEN ME!!! Listen Jimmy, it’s alright to call you Jimmy right? Of course it is!”
Marcos walks and talks with this creature as if it is a companion he had known for a century or more. Conversing with it idly, he waltzes to place his arm around Izzy’s neck. It hooks around uninterrupted, as the last pieces of stone that solidified against Izzy’s skin to defend against the feline’s attack crumbles away and falls into the sand—his skin, unblemished, is completely revealed.
“Anyway’s, Jimmy. Me and my new pal here are busy. We’re goin on an adventure! Thanks for the invite but be honest. This whole thing sounds like it's gonna be boring, am I right or am I right?”
“Of course I’m right! See, I knew you’d agree with me. I always said you were a man of vision. So there you have it, send my regards to everyone! Hugs and Kisses and laughs!”
“…..”
In a single flick the unhandsome creation is sent hurling miles away. A sonic boom predates its exit, the force of the flick momentous and yet, effortless. The Whimsical yet powerful arrancar seemed to have no respect for personal space or boundaries. He tugs at the submissive Izzadore, the clanging of his manifested weapon loud and unruly as it rests along his back, it appeared they were off to who knows where.
“Oh, right. Stone friend #3, what was your name again? Cus I can just tell, we’re gonna be the bestest of friends!”
As they stride forward, the gray-haired boy’s hand rises as he flexes his fingers, still coming into comfort within his new form. A guttural, yet juvenile voice creeps out as his lips barely part, the words of Marcos resonating within the conflux of a brain where the gargoyle was trying his best to put the pieces together.

“F-… Friends..”
He pauses for a moment, realistically unfamiliar with the term, yet it does not deter him from answering the question.
“Izz- ... Izzadore.”
He walks forward with Marcos’ forceful lead. A display of power far and away within the depths of Las Noches is enough for him to turn his head over shoulder as a primal instinct to attempt to sniff out its origin, but it is Marcos’ tugging and pulling that ultimately forces him to look away, just where would their path take them?

 

[BSD]

They all had something to say. Enrico roiled himself shivering with pleasure as he spat in their faces. Insulting them all, their efforts, while he played king in a sand castle far away from any danger or threat. He comes with an unknown arrancar probably diluted by his ego as well. Aragon ignores him, he wasn't interested in what he had to say in the slightest. Then the most curious thing happens, A strange looking hollow wonders up to the meeting room, the doors hanging open allowed him to see and he got close enough in this bath of reiatsu to hear them as well. He has the gal to insult Aragon by answering on his behalf and answering wrong? A vein would form upon Aragon's forehead as he listened to this hollow speak.
Until this point Aragon had sat unmoving or wavering to any snide reply nor jest, His released form abolished all traces of those who dare stand in his wake. All except for Max. Now Aragon had started to stand once more, his head turning towards the hollow who had the nerve to talk for Aragon with nonsense. When suddenly her reiatsu shot up once more.
It was indeed a party. He seemed to have provoked the previous Cero Espada. Aragon stopped turning around and faced her. He eyed her up and down as she started to approach. 'A fickle thing, all that power. Aragon thought as her reiatsu interfered once again. Sometimes one brain can't take it all, so it snaps, causing one to act out like such a childish thing. Age is funny in this regard, as one tends to get older they show traits of their primal self. Luckily for them Aragon is not of their animalistic way. She makes his castle quake with each foot step she decided to take, a display, a farce, a show of power to hope that those among us will fear her old power. She could of easily been at Aragon's throat within seconds. She wanted people to see her move like this. Once she reaches him her leg is slammed to the back of the chair, right beside Aragon's head. She start's by speaking in their native tongue;
"Acabo de decirle que esperaba cosas grande de el."
She points back at Maximiliano, then continues,
"Pero ni el, Y mucho menos tu, Tercero, me vas a venir a ordenar como si fueras mi amo. A mi ¿que diablos me importa lo que hicieron los humanos, los quincy, o los fregados dioses de muerte?"
She finishes by lowering her leg down until it is in the chairs arm rest, her other following as she draws her Zanpakuto and toys with it. Bringing it to and from with nothing but the intent to jest with the Third Espada. Until she points and quickly brings it to his clavicle. Her intent to Tease the overly serious Espada is met with an overly serious defense. The toyful blade is met with an invisible barrier much further away than his hierro should be. In fact if she noticed, she wasn't even making full contact with his lap. The same invisible barrier existed all over his body. Aragon had never looked away from her eyes, for this barrier also negated her reiatsu effect. The overly serious Aragon would shimmer with a holographic gleam as the point of her blade glided off with not so much as a scratch.
Aragon does nothing but smile at her. It was a party indeed, With his smile came for this first time in hundreds of years. A laugh. Nick had Released and others were in full flight or fight mode. It was a truly a great gathering of arrancar. In this brief repose from seriousness, Aragon met eyes with max. In this same instance Helliodoro came crashing through the ceiling. Another Arrancar spoke, Spikes were flung at all the other arrancar, and Max. Well Max had finally had enough.

Max's reiatsu suddenly darkens the room in royal purple. Aragon's eyes that are focused on Elliora suddenly blur as Maximiliano opens his pressure a little further. Aragon's eyes drift from Elliora's to Max's as he makes contact with his once more. This time however, it seems as if Aragon glimpses into infinity. A mountain of power exudes from the prospect. It is harsh at first and difficult to overcome, yet there is a familiarity to it. Aragon was one of the few to bask in Vincent's reiatsu like it was nothing. With Max it was easy, it was just like Vincent's but this time, this pressure feels controlled. It make's Aragon humbled in it. Aragon braces his Escamas De Dragoon (Scales of the Dragon) for even greater impact.
Soon the entire meeting room was destroyed beyond it's agility to regenerate quickly. A cavity of space is left hundreds of feet into the air. Roughly a thousand meters from the dunes below. It was difficult but natural to form platforms of reiatsu under his feet. As he now stood in mid air among Maximiliano. It looked like Max wanted the stage. This also would be a good test for the others.
"We Hollow, can become anything. We can become Quincy, reshaped and molded into Zanpakuto for Shinigami use, give birth to Fullbringers, or even aid in the mockery creation of Shinigami hybrids known as Vizards. We are the strongest and most malleable race that exists and yet... You fools would rather fight each other."
Suddenly, Aragon's second hierro would crack slightly, Aragon looked at this and smirked. Max's Reaitsu was so potent it was devouring the area of oxygen. Aragon wanted to look for the others, but the only one's he could see from this angle were Elliora and Max;
"We will destroy the Quincy so that we may have free reign to search for an ancient device known as the Hōgyoku. As we collapse the mutual enemy of Hollow and Shinigami we will make sure to not make any hostile actions toward the Shinigami while eliminating the Quincy. Allow them to watch as we decimate our hated foe while our true plan unfolds in the background. We will search for it under the guise of 'helping' the Shinigami eradicate lesser Hollow. Once the Hōgyoku is in hand, we can create perfected Arrancar that are far more powerful than us naturals. Naturally, we will all perfect ourselves before using it on anyone else. We will use it to bolster our strength in the coming war against Soul Society, a group whom you all fear considering how you all wish to ignore and avoid them. If we cannot find the old Hōgyoku, we will just make our own."
The crushing weight of this Arrancar demanded the audience of them all now. Aragon who was strongest amongst the lot of them, apart from the previous Cero Espada, stood in this wake and knew he had picked the correct person to take the throne. Maximiliano would take the Arrancar to great places indeed. Max speaks as if addressing the room as it was not seconds ago. Aragon hoped the others could hear his decree.
"We are malleable, we can become anything, consume and become anything and yet you all wish to be as the sand and conform. We will harvest the powers of the Fullbringers, we will carve, gouge, rip, or tear their power away from them and add it to ourselves. I ask you, why be Hollow when we can be so much more?"
Those that fell below would start to see shadows of massive white structures falling on top of them now, if they were to careless to flea the destruction of the main corridor of the new Las Noches castle. Aragon silently listens.
"When our power is amassed and Kouka is no longer a threat we will destroy and devour the Soul Society. We will become the new keepers of balance. I will become the new Linchpin of Existence itself. We can become so much more than what we are right now, so please, join me. Allow me to show you that our evolution does not stop at Vasto Lorde or Arrancar. Allow me to show you that our evolution can be ceaseless and without end."
Max finishes this time by extending his hand out to the Vasto Lorde who interrupted before using mixed words. Aragon had met him briefly in the past. Aragon was looking him over closely, and as he did so trailed his eyes back to Max. until Suddenly something invisible and insanely fast. Before Aragon's eyes can go back to the Vasto Lorde however, Aragon would use Sonido to get even further from the area. Just higher really, as he soared into the skies above looking over the now battlefield. His eyes would try and spot out the two Hollow from before. It was time for them to show their strength. Aragon would await their appearance in the skies above.

 

[BSD]

A True King

All too often does one view themselves as the almighty. One born from nothing will remain as such. A King does not allow for themselves to be bound by words — let alone numbers for that matter. There is always a pecking order in place and so long as one doesn't disturb this order, the peace remains. Did the man truly wish for peace, or had he been overcome by an insatiable greed for centuries, now? Only he knew this answer. Those who would make assumptions and accusations could do so freely so long as they acknowledged that he was still the King. A God is nothing to a King. The potential prospect for "God-King" was nothing more than a title that the weak held. It was why the man distanced himself from Vincent.
One who called themselves a God was often less exciting than what they could be. Every being had potential, yet Enrico had stayed far away from Las Noches for many years, seldom encountering Vincent. Surely, there was a reason for this. False King or not, Enrico must have had his reasons. Many would attempt to anger the King by accusing him of being weak and not up to fighting Vincent. Their ridiculous claims typically died with them, but they dwelled within the Espada's mind. Being compared to Vincent, let alone being told that he was lesser than the former Father of Las Noches did irritate the man before he had discovered what being a King truly meant. He had always been able to do whatever he wanted, regardless of what the former "God" said. What made Maximiliano believe himself superior to Vincent? Surely it was his newfound power. It was unlikely that his presence reeked of their late Father. No, this was the presence he was familiar with. The presence which he had distanced himself from. Even a King knows when to allow for delusions of grandeur to go unchecked. As the King of all worlds, he would allow those who were strong enough to put up a fight against the man to exist. After all, they existed in his space out of goodwill. And what King doesn't have goodwill?
A chuckle comes from the "young" blonde as everyone in the room responds to the course of events going on. It turns from a slight chuckle into a rather audible laugh to those within his proximity — the ones in the seats 3-6. He cannot help but laugh wholeheartedly as the potential prospect for the title that meant absolutely nothing to the man. More Reiatsu began to culminate around the man and yet he remained unphased. Aragon mattered little to him — no one within the room aside from Elliiora really mattered to the Cuarto Espada. Sure, he was allied with those who pledged their loyalty to either him, Elliora, or the both of them, but this held little merit currently. A challenger had finally arisen. One that was well-spoken, yet one that lacked the ability to enthrall him entirely. Simply put, Enrico really didn't care for what Max was saying, nor the others. Like white noise, his ears picked up on each individual tone while his "eyes" picked up on the emissions of Reiatsu and other spiritual forces. Even without his own Reiatsu cloaking him in order to combat the prospects, Enrico's Hierro would not have faltered. No, the situation was much deeper than those around him may have realized. The pressure surrounding the man began to creep up on him, making a lousy attempt to subdue him.
Really? This...? A thought crosses the man's mind as Max continues to speak uninterrupted, enforcing his word as if it's law upon those at the tables.

"We Hollow, can become anything. We can become Quincy, reshaped and molded into Zanpakuto for Shinigami use, give birth to Fullbringers, or even aid in the mockery creation of Shinigami hybrids known as Vizards. We are the strongest and most malleable race that exists and yet... You fools would rather fight each other."
Ah, yes, how intriguing. Enrico knows all too well that he is of a superior race. His birth signified a turning point for the Hollow race as a whole. After all, he is the King of all that exists — he is the true linchpin of all dimensions that currently exist, not the Soul King nor Max. This was decided long before Vincent's death; Enrico's birthright allows for him to claim such a title.
"We will destroy the Quincy so that we may have free reign to search for an ancient device known as the Hōgyoku. As we collapse the mutual enemy of Hollow and Shinigami we will make sure to not make any hostile actions toward the Shinigami while eliminating the Quincy. Allow them to watch as we decimate our hated foe while our true plan unfolds in the background. We will search for it under the guise of 'helping' the Shinigami eradicate lesser Hollow. Once the Hōgyoku is in hand, we can create perfected Arrancar that are far more powerful than us naturals. Naturally, we will all perfect ourselves before using it on anyone else. We will use it to bolster our strength in the coming war against Soul Society, a group whom you all fear considering how you all wish to ignore and avoid them. If we cannot find the old Hōgyoku, we will just make our own."
A yawn comes from Enrico as he remains standing, unphased by the continuous emission of Reiatsu, his cloak has long since disappeared.
"Alright, I guess?" He inquires, speaking with an eerie level of ease given the strenuous circumstances.
"When our power is amassed and Kouka is no longer a threat we will destroy and devour the Soul Society. We will become the new keepers of balance. I will become the new Linchpin of Existence itself. We can become so much more than what we are right now, so please, join me. Allow me to show you that our evolution does not stop at Vasto Lorde or Arrancar. Allow me to show you that our evolution can be ceaseless and without end.
The man's teeth come together as he realizes that Max's words thus far have shown him worthy of a King's time. A spiral that has been amassed within his hand has been noticed by Enrico — his ability to decipher different forms of energy and attacks with his eyes as well as his refined mastery of Pesquisa have allowed for the man to notice this since the instant of its conception. An attack made while others struggle to fight off the effects of his Reiatsu is smart, but it's not bold enough. None of this has been bold enough. Yes, actions were fine and dandy, but not when they weren't impressive.
"Hmm, I wonder what this shall be." Yet another sentence escapes his lips, trailing off unhindered.
"Wont you join me?"
Oh, it seems that the target was the rather crude Vasto Lorde that made itself present. The prospect's presentation didn't present itself as foul play, so Enrico believes it to be something minuscule. Whether or not the being survives the attack matters, not to the man. Surely, though, if a Vasto Lorde is as powerful as they're said to be, then it will have little trouble dealing with the attack.
Go to Hell, "God King."

The palace falls from the sky as Max continues, attempting to create a marvelous display. He does succeed, but this success is not because of his own capabilities. It is, in fact, Enrico who has been the cause of the damage to the palace, allowing for every event to take place as Max speaks, emitting his vast levels of Reiatsu. At the moment that his Reiatsu began to attach itself to Enrico, he essentially made the 4th Espada a battery. Every battery requires electricity, of course. In this case, the source for powering this battery is none other than Max himself. So, maybe it's fair for Max to say that he has caused the palace to crumble, break, and even fall indirectly.
A conduit is most strong when it has a constant source of power and given the current circumstances, Enrico is said conduit. The King has long since discarded his "cloak," as his Reiatsu has permeated throughout the area — it lingers even outside of Las Noches, stretching into the depths of the lightning-dyed sands. The Aspect of Avarice has allowed for Enrico to continually take in and assimilate Max's Reiatsu as it comes. Unlike a faulty human device, the man does not falter despite the insane levels of Reiatsu his body has come into contact with. Fine-tuning this emission even further, he ensures that everything proceeds, still. When the spiral is fired, Enrico remains in his current position within the air, his amber orbs still plastered to the prospect. Looking at him now, he sighs deeply from his position, completely unimpressed by the attempts the prospect has made. Those that have been subject to the man's Reiatsu — in particular, the lesser Hollow and Arrancar lacking numbers such as Galia — will feel the effects of Avarice weighing down upon them as opposed to suffocation. They will stop at nothing to ensure their entire body remains theirs. In fact, given their prolonged exposure, they will begin to feast on themselves shortly. At least if Max had been allowed to continue to suffocate them, they would've had a chance to escape the man's unique Reiatsu effect. First, they'd peel through their own flesh — perhaps starting with an arm or leg — and then they would slowly devour themselves until absolutely nothing remained.
Even though Enrico is still a couple of feet from where his chair once was, he is somehow behind the prospect for God King. Oddly enough, it would seem that he is also on his right, left, and above the man — no more than two feet from him at each location. A blade is not drawn, but prying hands seek to cradle his throat and take tear his body into pieces. These images are none other than Enrico and they are not to be mistaken for some parlor trick. No, the man truly appears to be behind where his seat once was and yet in three other places simultaneously. The hands coming for the throat appear at his right side, seeking to crush his throat and sap the power from the man. Those coming from above appear to be focusing on grasping his skull, ready to crush it should they reach it as the rest of the body remains vertical in an upside-down position. The final onset from the left side of Max has its right arm extended, the left cradling one of its twin blades as a right hook seeks to destroy the prospect's Hierro and rupture its organs in one go. At this time, there's no telling which Enrico is the real one — a result of Gemelos Sonído. Perhaps the most terrifying thing about this assault is not the expedition at which it's done, but that it occurs in the same heartbeat that Max has released the spiral towards Helliodoro. All that can be heard now is one simple line:
"You bore the hell out of me, Arrancar."

 

[BSD]

x

Aragon’s smile initially perplexes Elliora. What was going through his mind that suddenly causes him to smile before her? Did he seek to ridicule her? Belittle her and her abilities? Perhaps even going so far in his arrogance to doubt her abilities because of her wanton ways? The wind shifts. No warning, no foretell, as is the way of nature. She nestles closer against him placing her head lightly on his chest as she turns to glance at the others in the room. The tip of her blade clinks as it slides along his armor. Perhaps to Aragon, and those around, it seems that Elliora seeks to find a chink in the armor. During this, the Ninth Espada releases, entering his very own resurrección in order to combat the mixture of reiatsu in the room, which briefly captivates Elliora's attention. She admires his boarish release, noting his long hair and tusks. Her blade continuously probes the scaly and iridescent armor, when suddenly, a new integrant crashes into the convoluted meeting of arrancar and adjuchas. This time it is a Vasto Lordes that decides to stand on the table as she once did. A rarity throughout Hueco Mundo. Her umber eyes examine him curiously, until he finally opens his maw and speaks.

"It's a pleasure to make your equivalence."
She can't help but giggle at the botched introduction. Is he perhaps speaking a language he is unfamiliar with and accidentally used the wrong word? Or could it possibly be that he is serious, and is that simple-minded? It didn't matter one bit, Elliora is already amused by this vasto, and that is more than enough to win her graces.
"Y'all are being so rude; I want to hear what Max and Aragon ha-”

Clap
Clap
Clap
Clap
Clap

The seatless Galia is interrupted by the now Sixth Espada, Emilia, quite possibly the only one to address Maximiliano logically and respectfully amongst those congregated in Las Noches. Her very own display of force against the spiked arrancar that so boldly drew his spikes against everyone in the room, excluding Maximiliano and Aragon, and by proxy, Elliora who still sat on his lap. She lets out a chuckle. All valid points made by Emilia, yet no points that will ever matter to Elliora as she will incorrigibly continue to come and go with the wind. Now, The Crows attention is pulled to the invisible Abraam, who's acrobatic skills in dodging the spikes, confirm her earlier suspicions of his presence in her room as he is grazed by the circulating winds in his swift evasion, unamused by Galias spikes, he himself readies a cero to counter and obliterate the arrancar for this threatening display of force against the Fifth Espada.

In a trice, she feels Maxmiliano's reiatsu increase, making a repeat of their previous encounter outside of the conference room they currently occupied. Her hierro cracks once again, but like the first time, it repairs itself almost instantly and endlessly. With this, Aragon's smile is followed by an uncharacteristic laugh. A laugh combined with Maximiliano's display of power to force her to settle down. To everyone, this laugh would be meaningless, in fact, some others may even find humor in this. Watching as one arrancar tries to force her to submit, while another laughs so arrogantly in her face. To laugh is a simple and thoughtless act that requires one to inhale and exhale, more so the heigher their amusement. It is what seals the fate of the arrogant dragon that, from her perspective, not only disrespected her, but also sought to usurp the skies from the queen of the heavens. The inhale that drew the air into Aragon's lungs. In his guffaw he thoughtlessly breathes the air into his self-proclaimed impenetrable barrier.
After all, his untimely laughter is interpreted by the queen as smug, and even mocking of her. One can even go so for as to say that he was doubting the prowess of the forgotten queen. Perhaps it was true that she was away for far too long. She who stood at the pinnacle for so long, only to abandon her seat out of sheer boredom. She needed entertainment, she needed fun, something to indulge in. And an empty castle was no place for her. She was a bird that refused to be caged, instead taking flight through the endless skies. And while the pleasurable effects of her reiatsu were drowned out by those of the black-maned arrancar, it does not negate her dominion over wind. As his laughter continues and he is engrossed by the blade at his clavicle, his attention is diverted from the very thing that no one would have ever considered a threat, the very air he, and everyone around them breathed. A gasp. A sigh. It matters not.
She recalls her cape, which returns to its original position on her shoulders, and her pair of gloves back to her with a swift gust of wind. It is then that Maximiliano's threshold for the groups shenanigans has reached its limits, and he unleashes upon them more of his power. Elliora finally moves from the tercera's lap and sits on his armrest, then brings her right hand up to her face, curling all fingers but her pinky, which she brings closer to her face, until it begins to dig inside her nostril. Probing and prodding in search of something as she watches the events unfold.

This time, she is protected by the thick and heavy cape that dons her shoulders, preventing her from suffering the very same effects as others in the room unable to combat Maximiliano's spiritual pressure. As rubble falls around everyone in the room, the winds of fate divert and obstruct the path of the debris that seeks to fall on Elliora, and by proxy Aragon. Even as the rest of the surrounding environment crumbles around her, La Bruja Plumada remains unphased by the obliteration of the castle, as she herself has no need for the creation of a reishi platform and simply hovers in the sky, kept afloat by the currents of wind at her beck and call. In this act, Abraam's charged cero dissipates, preventing his onslaught, which disappoints Elliora, as she had become eager to see this side battle play out before her. A disruption in the wind around Maximiliano's hands catches the woman's attention, intrigued by this, she watches intently as he continues speaking, then rids herself of the goop on her pinky with a swift flick of her finger, uncaring of its trajectory, it seems to carry a tremendous force behind it, flying unencumbered through the falling pieces of castle. The tempestuous winds shift once more.
"Won't you join me?"
It is then that Maximiliano's accumulated energy releases, firing something at the Vasto Lordes, which unforeseenly and unexpectedly, misses its mark. Trapped in it's own path due to it's sheer velocity, Maximiliano would be rendered unable to redirect his own attack back at the vasto. In fact, despite the depletion of air under the pressure, as it is not even a great show of force or power by Elliora, rather, she minimaly shifts the currents of wind to disrupt the trajectory of the bala that seeks to end Helliodoro's existence, diverting enough that it misses its mark by mere millimeters. Did Maximiliano wish to make an example of him? This was an action by him that went against Elliora's desires. The Vasto entertained her, and she sought to be furthered entertained by him and those around her, prospect included.
"AJAJAJAJAJAJA!!!"
"AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"¡¿Que paso mi rey?! ¡¿Fallastes?!"
"What happened, my king?! Did you miss?!"
She asks mockingly as Enrico begins his very own barrage of attacks against him with Gemelo Sonido.
"You bore the hell out of me, Arrancar."
She surfs the skies, distancing herself from the nucleus of arrancar, and watches from the heavens as those incapable of flight find ways to survive the fall. She glances at Aragon, who stands on his very own reishi platform while his gaze is on the ground below in search of the adjuchas that angered him. It's mistakenly uttered knowledge in the midst of the discussion between the arrancar irked no one but Aragon. Does he seek to instil a punishment for its erroneous words? Or it's sheer audacity to attend an arrancar meeting? She soars through the sky effortlessly, blade in hand in the cover of her feathered cape. Elliora then creeps quietly behind Aragon and licks her lips, which part as whispers in his ear in a soft and bewitching voice what would be the very last words he would hear.
"Te equivocastes."
"You made a mistake."
A mistake? What sort of mistake? Wherein did his error lie? Removing his attention from her? Was his mistake in searching for the adjuchas in their midst? Perhaps his smug smile? The laugher? His arrogance in believing that he would be impervious to her power? Or the very fact that he forgot just how powerful she was? Perhaps his choice in ruler? These could all be questions that ran through his mind in his last moments of consciousness. Questions that Elliora will never answer to. It is then, that the air circulating inside Aragon's veins in his oxygen enriched blood, rapidly forms twin tornadoes that spin opposite of each other. These tornadoes grow in size and shred him violently and ruthlessly from the inside, then combine and further expand, tearing apart his blood vessels, arteries, liver, kidneys, intestines, including his heart and brain. His bones become crushed and dust that mix with the liquid. All his organs. Everything. What could he possibly do to defend against such an attack? It wasn't an obvious outward display of force that sought to break his barrier and his hierro. It was subtle and underhanded. In his hubris, he had ignored the air and laughed in her face as her blade teased his armor. But the air that grinds him at a celular level wasn't from the air in the environment, as Maximiliano sought to diminish that in his outburst of power. It was the very air he breathed so thoughtlessly to brazenly laugh in her face, infuriating her. Air that circulated the entirety of his body in oxygenated blood. The husk convulses violently in place as everything inside the Espada's own barrier becomes liquified.

When the final remnants of his life vanish, and his hierro dissipates, it is only then that the bloodied tornado bursts from its arrancar shaped confinement. It then widens and lengthens, splattering the temperamental woman with blood. She licks the blood off her face, while splotches decorate her right thigh. She reaches down to wipe it off, only to smear the coloring that displayed the numbers eight above and below the zero on her thigh, labeling her as a mere Privaron Espada; thus revealing her true number to those who decide to take the time to look at her blood splattered body. Surrounded by the blood red tornado as she turns the to face group once again. She slowly raises her hands in the air, condensing the tornado and the liquid remains of the Tercer Espada into a smaller twister that hovers over her head, funneling the arrancar slush into her mouth, which she so greedily and effortlessly swallows. In her indulgence, a few droplets of blood stain her lips red and trickle down the sides of her mouth, which she then laps up with her tongue, refusing to waste a single bead of blood. She is replenished and reinvigorated, basking in the benefits of her meal.

 

[BSD]

In most cases, the mind of a hollow is simple, kill, eat, kill, eat and repeat on until something happens. Some Adjuchas breach past that animalistic simplicity and become at least capable of reasoning and thought, some even become quite intelligent, while the miniscule minority become geniuses even. Helliodoro however fits in none of these categories, he is simply an idiot. Lured out like an animal, he is essentially baited by weakness and strength alike. Those who are weak become prey, those who are strong become entertainment. There is no ill will, there is no thought or premeditation, everything is instinct. And that is what has brought Helliodoro to this gathering.
As tensions rise so do the Arrancar that surround the Vasto Lorde, a majority seeking to make themselves known somehow and for their own reason. Two of the Arrancar release their Ressureccion, to Hellio it doesn’t really make any sense, what are they reacting to? What threat do they perceive that would demand their Ressurreccion to be used so early on? Either way, it doesn’t truly matter to Hellio who simply followed a sole source of reminiscent power. As the collective reiatsu of each individual piles on like a dogpile, the effects are easily visible in the surroundings, the structure and finish of the halls of the new Las Noches creak and crack beneath the weight. Still the Vasto Lorde has yet to notice the effects of the Reiatsu that envelops the surroundings. As the individually unique pressures push their ways around, the fiery surface of the star burns them away before they even attempt to threaten the Hollow that stands centre of room.
And then, to Helliodoro, what appears as an unjustified assault emerges from the very surfaces of Las Noches. Targeting everyone but two Arrancar and another by proxy, barbs and thorns emerge in an attempt to impale even the Vasto Lorde himself. With this, the attention of the sun is momentarily robbed away from Max, towards the offender himself, Galia. A figure taller than Hellio himself, yet he seems so small to Helliodoro. Be it by the radiant energy that surrounds the Vasto Lorde as a third skin, or the efforts of the God-King prospect Max, not a single one of these protrusions finds even the slightest contact with the Hierro of his. With a his completely masked face now turned towards Galia, and if only briefly, the spike slinging Arrancar finds himself set upon by a pressure unlike the Reiatsu that currently lines each millimeter of the room. Not one of Reiatsu or gravity itself, but instead it is a bestial intent to rend the Arrancar into chunks. But the sensation fades, as the Vasto Lorde pulls his attention away from the small freshborn Arrancar and instead towards the one who resides at the head of the table, Max.
With everything going on around him becoming no more than background noise, Helliodoro simply stares at Max, in anticipation, awaiting a reply for his elegant arrival. As time goes on and the God-King prospects continues to elevate the potency of his released Reiatsu, the room begins to cloud over with a soft pink hue that taints the original colour of everything else, like a filter over the eyes. From pink to the same purple he once watched from afar. The Helliodoro’s field of view gradually becomes smaller and smaller as the purple haze of Reiatsu consumes the surroundings. Soon Helliodoro finds nothing beneath his feet as the table and quite literally everything else withers away under the influence of such a display of pressure. However, this is not the only thing Helliodoro takes note of. Finally, the Vasto Lorde is able to feel the pressure of the God-King and someone else's it seems. Something too dense for the moulded sheet of Reiryoku that covers Helliodoro to burn away completely. Even so, he can only feel the relatively light weight as a majority is dealt with. While this is going on Helliodoro is not incapable of maintaining Reishi platforms beneath his feet, but the extra effort offered by the destructive Reiatsu leaves him feeling the effort is not worth it. Instead, from his the soles of his feet, what seems like a constant stream of fine-tuned and focused Reiatsu is ejected reminiscent of a jet engine. The star maintains himself in the air, as though he had never dropped any further than an inch or so as the table slipped from it’s form.
Finally he speaks.
"We will destroy the Quincy so that we may have free reign to search for an ancient device known as the Hōgyoku. As we collapse the mutual enemy of Hollow and Shinigami we will make sure to not make any hostile actions toward the Shinigami while eliminating the Quincy. Allow them to watch as we decimate our hated foe while our true plan unfolds in the background. We will search for it under the guise of 'helping' the Shinigami eradicate lesser Hollow. Once the Hōgyoku is in hand, we can create perfected Arrancar that are far more powerful than us naturals. Naturally, we will all perfect ourselves before using it on anyone else. We will use it to bolster our strength in the coming war against Soul Society, a group whom you all fear considering how you all wish to ignore and avoid them. If we cannot find the old Hōgyoku, we will just make our own."
The mask incapable of expression, tries it’s hardest to express a careful blend of confusion, and anger, but mostly confusion. ”How dare he not advantage my greeting!?” Yes… Even in his own mind he is absurdly, dull. Nevertheless, this anger is neither enough to make the Vasto Lorde take to the offensive, nor is it that kind of anger. Again he speaks, maybe now?
"We are malleable, we can become anything, consume and become anything and yet you all wish to be as the sand and conform. We will harvest the powers of the Fullbringers, we will carve, gouge, rip, or tear their power away from them and add it to ourselves. I ask you, why be Hollow when we can be so much more?"
”No! Stop speaking about things I don’t understand! Just-” As he throws his own little internal tantrum, the Vasto Lorde is unaware of the energy that coalesces in the Arrancar’s hand, either through ignorance and obsession with being greeted, or simply his sensory being lost in the flurry of Reiatsu, still he remains ignorant and his thoughts are interrupted as his hopes are raised once more, third time’s the charm, surely.
”When our power is amassed and Kouka is no longer a threat we will destroy and devour the Soul Society. We will become the new keepers of balance. I will become the new Linchpin of Existence itself. We can become so much more than what we are right now, so please, join me. Allow me to show you that our evolution does not stop at Vasto Lorde or Arrancar. Allow me to show you that our evolution can be ceaseless and without end.”
”You’re almost there! You almost did it!” The anger that once accompanied the confusion, which still lingers, is gradually converted into relief as he comes closer to his rather strange, pointless and self-imposed goal. The only explanation for this whole desire, a product of his stupidity. Slowly, a hand is extended towards Helliodoro, finally his goal is achieved as Max returns the introduction, or so Hellio originally thinks to himself.
”Wont you join me?"
The underlying intentions held by these words fly over Helliodoro’s head entirely as the Helix empowered Bala misses its mark, instead flying past Helliodoro with an incredible speed.
"¡¿Que paso mi rey?! ¡¿Fallastes?!"
"What happened, my king?! Did you miss?!"
It is only as the extravagant Arrancar Elliora begins to laugh and mock Max, that Helliodoro learns of this unsightly assault. He had been too preoccupied to properly focus, he had intended to fight the prospect, but he hadn’t expected such a cheap ploy to be put into action. With this moment of clarity, comes rage. The unstable creature losing all reason in a heartbeat and so he another feral Vagido erupts from the Vasto Lorde once more accompanied by the Vasto Lorde’s own Reiatsu. A visceral roar and spherical wave of Reiatsu that expand over the reaches of the room that they once stood in. Taking an incomprehensibly tiny fraction of time to extend outward, as though it simply existed there in that moment, never even expanding. This heat is not the same that once burned the sun from the sky, it is not the same once that shields him from the Reiatsu of the Arrancar. No. Where his Reiryoku is a constant heat, capable of it’s own impressive destruction, this cataclysmic billow of otherworldly blaze is incomparable. The cumulative Reiatsu that once tainted and beared down on the area suddenly vanishes as it is incinerated, given the same fate is everything else, living beings included. A display of rage, but not yet the Vasto Lorde’s full potential or close to it.
Regardless of its potential effects, this spectacle lasts but three seconds, and as the extraordinarily blinding visuals fade, the Vasto Lorde is already gone. Briefly, his entire form becomes an engine, a torrential surge of nothing but his Reiatsu enveloping the Vasto Lorde like a cocoon. The Hollow putting his whole body to use for his Estrella Voladora. Beyond the prying eye of those who might turn their attention towards the skies, all they might find is a rapidly dissipating white speckled trail, one that moves beyond the sight of even the most gifted sensors. At the end of the trail, Helliodoro hovers, the entirety of his form riddled with luminescent glowing cracks. His sight of Las Noches becoming no more than a blurred speck, still, he knows he is directly above Las Noches, having never diverted his path.
In unison the six appendages that rest away behind his mane are extended outward, pointed down toward Las Noches, mimicking his hands. The Vasto Lorde’s masked mouth slowly parts and as it does, his Reiryoku rapidly condenses and accumulates in front of the Vasto Lorde. Despite the haste at which the Reiryoku gathers and forms into a vibrantly bright white sphere of spiritual energy, the Vasto Lorde takes his time. Not out of patience, but out of bitter anger. One second passes, the orb growing larger, nearly half of Helliodoro’s own height. Two seconds have passed, the orb now matching and even exceeding Helliodoro’s height. Three seconds have passed, the once obscene orb suddenly collapses in size, only barely the size of a head. The Vasto Lorde’s hands clasp down on the absurdly dense orb of Reiryoku before bringing it to the open maw of his as if he were about to take a chunk out of it.
Then it releases, his hands and arms are blown back and out of the way completely as the orb explodes outwards in a single Cero. One of gargantuan proportions that plummets it’s way down toward Las Noches. From below, a small light that progressively grows larger as it closes the distance. Larger and larger until the reality becomes obvious. With the beams radius at roughly one hundred meters, the following explosion once it meets the surface of Hueco Mundo would leave only scraps of Las Noches and it’s residents.
The ones below had their time to react, in truth the Vasto Lorde had flown too far away for his own good. Would it have been wiser to go after the Arrancar in close combat? This is likely the case, Helliodoro was far more comfortable with such a form of combat. Still, the reasoning was gone from the Hollow’s head, this is no more than an impulsive act. Fueled by the single misdeed of a single being. In Helliodoro’s mind, there is but one objective and the method of execution is not of importance.