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They say fools are easily angered, a stereotype that the Arrancar known as the Sun seems to cater to. Met with the torrent of the Primera’s spiritual pressure, drawing the Vasto evolved’s focus, earning his attention. The two lock eyes, amber hues peering into the pink orbs of the feline. If the espada would exert his reiatsu, it seems Helliodoro would respond in kind. The two spiritual pressures now collide, though rather two opposing waves it is almost as if they are intertwined, painting the otherwise gray and white lifeless canvas of Hueco Mundo into a kaleidoscope of colors. Helliodoro perceives his target and his surroundings encompassed in the force, heat and influence of his reiatsu and his alone. Marcos, who has taken up his stance from the moment of the exertion of his spiritual pressure, has not abandoned it or the spot he stands. His face does not shift in surprise, concern or even fear. No, if anything there is a twisted sense of elation etched in his fierce cheshire grin.
"MOOOVEEEEEEE!!!
The Arrancar bellows, his feet stomping down in its second step. Facing this seemingly embodiment of the sun, the Primera must be an utter fool, or..perhaps it is simply his ignorance in the nature and power of Helliodoro that has allowed him to be so carefree. It is this very ignorant nature added with the perplexity of his abilities that only serve as kindling to the bubbling rage of the star. Throughout this interaction the Arrancar has taken no notice of the detached arm seeking to impale him, in fact there was no need to, the limb seemingly incinerated into nothingness.
With the third step taken the star is propelled towards the Primera like a comet. His face distorted in its signature scowl, as his surroundings become mere blurs from his movement. His fist clenches as his anger courses through his very veins like the blood that flows through him while his left hand gathers and contains the rising unsteady power focused into that of a sphere. Marveled at least, by himself for his speed Helliodoro is no less confident in his strength. It is this same strength that is used and weaponized in the form of a punch, made to burst a hole through the Espada’s torso while upheaving and demolishing the surrounding area as a result — or at least, it was meant to.
SLLLLIIiiice
A blade descends like a guillotine down the right shoulder of Helliodoro while five purple claws tipped in a fluorescent pink descend down his right shoulder. The items respectively are Locura, Marcos’s zanpakuto wielded by one hand, while the other are the claw-like nails belonging to the opposite limb.
Though Helliodoro may not be the most intelligent he was still capable of perceiving that he was not making any leeway in advancing earlier with his powerful steps, something that greatly infuriated the Arrancar sparking the explosion of his own reiatsu. What Helliodoro does not realize however, is this is something that the Espada does not turn on or off, it is not a byproduct of exerting his reiatsu — it is a constant state of being that comes with the existence of the Grinning Schemer. The shifting and skewing of one’s sense of awareness and perception is something that takes place around the Primera at all times regardless of his will, a byproduct of his Aspect of Death; it is unfortunate that the closer one draws to the Arrancar, the stronger this effect becomes. When exerting his reiatsu and maintaining a distance from the Primera Helliodoro was better off in somewhat grounding his sense of awareness, but by closing the distance between him and the current object of his frustration the Arrancar has abandoned his senses to the wiley games of the Cheshire Grinning Espada.
While Helliodoro perceives himself clenching his fist, throwing the titanic punch, striking the Espada in the ribs to break and burn through him, the momentum of the ensuing shockwave meant to demolish everything, burying it beneath dust and charred rubble the actual there is a break, a delay between what he perceives and wills...and what his body actually does. It is a gap that the Primera exploits in this little game between them. His left arm gripping and drawing his sheathed zanpakuto in one fluid motion. A puzzling event, though there had been no true acknowledgement of the detached limb there remained no sign of it regenerating itself let alone moving to return back to its body.
Mentira Piadosa, it is an ability that acts in support of Marcos’s regenerative abilities, no..not just his regeneration, but all physical aspects of his being. With the arm cast off and sent to secretly attack the Star it was, ultimately abandoned, the Primera’s fractured and twisted mind perceiving himself to still be whole, manifesting the limb as though he had never lost it to begin with. When the blade is swung down it is done in such a way that a single swing is perceived, rather than the triple swing brought about by Marcos swinging his arm like a windmill, going through one..two..three cycles, rendering limb from body. As this transpires it is the tips of his right nails, already strong enough in terms of strength, durability and sharpness to contest against a Captain-class blade, these aspects are further increased as Desgarrar is focused on their tips, clawing down and potentially through the shoulder of Helliodoro, one layer after another.
In the eyes of Helliodoro, it is as though Marcos has reflexively reacted and moved far faster than he himself could perceive or react — if the dull minded star could perceive anything at all with his perception far duller than he is accustomed to. In all of this, Marcos still reacts not out of anger, nor is there any hint of killing intent in his vicious actions. Helliodoro, a fool who understands nothing about the nature of Marcos is faced with Marcos, a fool who does not understand or, at least does not realize the anger and annoyance he is causing his fellow Arrancar. Should Helliodoro once more react out of anger, his volatile heated and unstable spiritual power engulfing the area, should he lash out physically in anger with him so close to the primera there will always be the question on exactly when he has moved and reacted, and rather or not his actions will suffice in bypassing the espada’s hierro, regeneration, and self deception to claim a single life from the Cheshire man. That sharp toothed grin permanently plastered on his face as his amusement grows...that is..until he is distracted by something else more amusing than the man before him.
Until now, Helliodoro has pitted himself against beings with incredible and overwhelming strength and power, now he faces against a being with overwhelming trickery and deception. Where Marcos stepped and resided, the laws of the world twisted to conform to his perception of it and others.
Hueco Mundo was his litter box, and everyone in it would play by his rules.
