We Share A Nightmare [R, NDE, Hard]

[Kashmir De-Mona]

The creatures seemed to sense the approach of another, who was closer to them than the Shinigami. The creatures sensed one who was more of kin, and started to scurry away. At first they had wanted to relentlessly pursue the Shinigami. The Shinigami was going to be their victim. At first they had been at the tree, digging at the roots and screeching at the Shinigami. They had been unable to have any effect, and they had been unable to produce any method of scaling the large tree. They had been unable to produce any method to attack Zeich with as well, leaving him safe for that moment. For that moment, the creatures could not reach the Shinigami. This left Zeich with an ample window with which to formulate his plans and synchronize his thinking. Soon however the creatures also sensed the approach of another who was closer to them and more like kin. Soon the creatures sensed the entry into the world by Marcelius, an Arrancar, who was more like them than any Shinigami. This spooked them, for they then started to scurry off and crawl away. They gave up on attacking Zeich, and crawled away until they all disappeared and were no longer in sight, though their emotions would linger.

Marcelius would be able to enter into the wardrobe in the same area as Zeich, and find the corpse, the blood everywhere, and find Zeich in the tree. They would have a few minutes to become acquainted or to commit to being enemies, allies, or neutral. They would have a few minutes, and then after that, the forest was split by the shrieks and screams of a young girl, whose voice could be heard for miles. The noises abruptly stopped after a few seconds, however a reiatsu where it had sounded from kept up, and did not dissipate. It did not dissipate, for it was like a beacon which could be used by the two in order to pursue further. In the seconds that Zeich might be distracted by all of these things, some strange caterpillar fell from the higher up trees, from behind him, in his blind spot. Difficult to notice, it suddenly protruded blades with which to stab into Zeich if it landed. "LOOK OUT!" a voice called, and a sword slashed into the caterpillar and knocked it away. A sword slashed into the caterpillar and knocked it away and cut it in half, and it was sent flying away. Uzumaki formed on the branch next to Zeich. "I cannot allow you to go alone...Not when it's this dangerous here..." he said.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Zeich's plan for evasion worked, his position up in the tree giving him plenty of room to think while the slug-like creatures beneath him failed to grasp the thick bark of the branch and unable to climb, leaving him safe from harm. Certainly it gave him time to consider what was happening; with how quickly events had been moving, the Third Seat had not simply taken the time to consider his options and analyze the situation. But now that he was away from harm, up in the branches of the tree where the strange creatures couldn't get to him, there was more than enough time to plan, to think, and to determine exactly what he was dealing with. Certainly, there was much to consider.

The first was the creatures themselves; what exactly were they? They had to be some mutation of a human soul, if the man's transformation was any evidence. The corpse left behind hadn't changed in the slightest, but the Plus that had come forth from it had immediately begun Hollowfying, the encroachment of the chains beginning almost immediately. Rather than shift into a Hollow, however, the self-consumption of the chains had simply ended, and the human soul had transformed into one of those slug-like things, lacking limbs and suffering in continuous agony. And it had been agony, too; Zeich realized now that, upon his attack on the creatures, he had seen into their minds and seen their suffering.

But what had caused this? Why were these creatures being formed? Who was tormenting them, both in their living lives and their deaths afterward? Why was Konso failing to send them off to Soul Society? There were so many questions, ones that Zeich had no answers to. For now, it seemed that his best bet was to keep out of their way and explore the forest more; considering the strange way in which he had arrived in the area, it was connected to the shack and the oppressive aura of evil there. Everything tied together... but for what? What was behind it, who was causing this? Or was there something more sinister in place, like a long-standing curse or “haunting” by another spiritual entity? Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be easy.

Master, I think it just got worse.

Zeich looked down at Haiiro's nudging, and noticed another figure stepping out of the air. Swearing softly to himself, the Third Seat's eyes narrowed as he recognized the Arrancar stepping forward and looking around. Though he had not learned the man's name in their last encounter, Zeich remembered him from the invasion into Las Noches. The Arrancar had been one who had been very pacifistic in nature, avoiding fatal combat and simply keeping Shinigami at bay until he was forced to escape, too busy trying to convince them to leave to truly fight them. Could he be behind this whole situation? Certainly, Zeich had never seen the Arrancar's powers, and it was very possible that he had something to do with it. Perhaps ending his life would end the aura of darkness filling the area; if not, at least it would be one less Arrancar to trouble the world...

Yes... that's right... kill him...

Zeich's eyes widened, but he quickly suppressed the darkness rising inside him. Marcelius would feel it briefly, a small spike of energy within the Shinigami's soul, something different and unusual. He would recognize it too, from their last encounter. Not knowing this, the Third Seat placed a hand on Haiiro's hilt, ready to draw his sword and leap forward to slay the Arrancar before he even knew Zeich was there. It was then that Uzumaki intervened, killing another strange creature that had been about to drop down on Zeich. So focused had the Third Seat been on his victim, he had not seen it coming. Yet despite that, he gave no thanks, merely a nod of acknowledgement to Uzumaki's presence before tilting his head towards the Arrancar below. With his hand on his sword, Zeich's intention was clear enough. They would attack. Surely, he hadn't noticed their presence by now...

[Marcelius]

"Surely not..." The first moment, almost set Marcelius aback. Such wonder filled his eyes, as they gazed upon the relam he now found himself within. Rolling green hills stretched in one direction; a massive forest beset by darkness lay before. The vastness of each was quite outstanding...but even more so considering the door by which he came to this lush vista. Not but a second before, he had been inside a small shack. Within that dusty old cottage, he found a wardrobe stained with bloody smiles...beckoning him to madness. Now, having glanced behind the doors which offered insanity, he finds himself standing in the middle of a broad plain. Maybe he did go mad? The notion was almost enough to scoff at, if not for the fear which found him first. Ah yes, the wonder that sparkled in his eye, that was a reaction of terror. There was little explanation as to why he had come to be here.

All Marcelius had to go on, was the feeling which crept through his trembling nerves. It was that same darkness...which had tainted the cabin before, it was here and in greater force. The composure he mustered to face this oddity and it's tricks, was already being shaken. It was his own fault, the old fool. Stepping into the heart of darkness with nothing but words to carry one's courage, now there was something he could scoff at. But what caused this sudden shock of fear? Was it the inexplicable travel he had somehow undergone? Or perhaps it was the festering evil which his gift could detect for miles and miles? Hmmm, no, it was none of these things. What caused his nerves to shiver, were the sheer quantity of souls...which suffered in this deceptive realm. Though his feeble eyes could not yet see, nor could his weakened ears hear, there was former that his soul could feel. It was all that awaited him in this horror.

Doing what he could not to stumble, catching himself just before the trip. Hand jutting up from his side, the old man clutched his chest through the fabric of his attire. Twisting the cloth in his hands, bending it out of shape, his digits sank into his body. What he reached for was his heart. A heart, that he knew was not there. Oh, but even in absence it caused him strife. Aching in an intolerable way, the core of him felt as though it were splitting. But why? What caused such vicious and crippling torture? Death. Is that not the answer, every time? Pain which comes from the final breath, a sensation Marc kept an unpleasant acquaintance with. In the distance he heard them calling. Victims, both wretched and pitiful. On his skin, he could almost feel the cuts. Cold steel that worked it's way through the flesh and the bone. Before each painful slice could end, the visions would come. They were muted, almost impossible to hear...but he could not ignore them. "This...this is..." The words ground inside his mind, as though his thoughts had teeth to grit.

These memories, these visages of agony and defeat; Marcelius had experienced such things before. No, that is putting it too mildly. Marc was defined by such sensations...they were the foundations of his grief. Similar feelings embodied his past, so many lives his claws had ripped open. Such sentiments filled his every waking moment, attacked by the internal choirs as he was. Perhaps worst of all..."My Cancion?" Yes, though there was very little evidence to support it...the similarities were unsettling. The way these lives...these creatures in the distance, shared the tragedy of their lives when slaughtered...let's simply say Marcelius was an expert on the matter. But it did not make any sense, not rationally. Unfortunately, rationale had been abandoned the moment a closet transported him to this wild, green country. Still, some form of explanation had to exist. Was this the power of the Hollow he sought? Worse, was this merely a side effect to a much more terrible corruption. What about the similarities in his own abilities, to the scene taking place? The questions raddled inside of his head, forcing him into a near delirium as he walked. If he was to get answers, he would need to seek them out. The investigation had not concluded...it was only just beginning.

Enthusiasm or not, Marc was not one to move quickly. The ravages of age prevented it. So his approach would be drawn quite long, giving ample time for his sluggish brethren to escape into the shadows of the bosk. By the time he halted his approach, all of the creatures would be gone. As best his eyes could tell, he was at least a dozen meters from the forest line. From this distance, he could tell the feeble horde had scurried away. Yet...the elder's posture would not be loose, or lax. Standing quite firmly...feet rooted into the earth, he seemed poised. Perhaps not aggressive, but certainly alert. Something had him sufficiently spooked, and he possessed no deceit to make his concern. For his Soul Reaper company, he would appear quite focused on something...though it was less likely that they would know what. After all, he was not the type to look with his eyes or cock his head for a better earshot.

How he saw the world was far different, and much more involved...but it did not require him to adjust angle of his head. So, there would be no reading his aim. No figuring his objective, or what might hold his focus. Not for those less cunning. But for him, it was a far different picture. One which had been painting itself quite brilliantly, for some time now. Two colors, one bold and the other opaque. They flickered against the contrast of darkness which corrupted this world; easily spotted whenever Marc might look with his eyes shut. He had been studying them as he made his approach, not unlike the predator sizes up it's prey. But to what end he measured his competition, was far less natural than the methods used. For in him there was no desire to fight, and even less to kill. Instead he examined them...in desperate hope that he was imagining their existence. What he wanted more than anything, was confirmation of a name. A name he would rather not deal with now, or ever. Zeich Yajuu, Third Seat Shinigami.

As if the interference of Shinigami was not problem enough...why this man? The old Fraccion felt his breath stop, his lungs paralyzed in the moment. The entire moment felt frozen, with him a prisoner to the stillness. For what he heard coming from the trees, was not the harmonizing tunes of comrade Shinigami. No...Yajuu was no more a Death God than Marcelius. Oh, he may look the role...but inside Marc could hear it. The Hunger. It called for blood, and it called for death...it was commendable how well the Third Seat kept it at bay. What exactly was this individual? Certainly he was no Hollow, nor did he sound like an Arrancar. The curiosity was enough to intrigue Marcelius, but not enough to distract him. Expressed across his face, his grimace was quite clear to the careful observer. Crossing paths with a child murderer...that is enough to turn this Arrancar’s stomach. Hearing the qualities of a sibling within Zeich’s soul; however, provided new understanding. Was it enough to forgive him of his murderous actions, no...not really. But it was a start. Sympathizing with kin has always come easier to Marc; it i a flaw of his character. Given the severity of his predicament, it was enough to stir renewed consideration. But not enough, to silence him…”Is there a chance we could speak…” Voice raised loud enough to be heard, even with the physical and emotional divide between them.

Speaking with whatever calm he could manage, the aged Hollow should appear quite amicable. Even from such a distance as the one that separated them. This image was something the Fraccion worked hard on, something needed now more than ever. Given the circumstances, the Arrancar hoped for some measure of civility. It was a stretch of faith, yes; though necessary in Marcelius’ eyes. With what was going on around them, each could benefit from the other’s restraint. They were enemies, in Zeich’s eyes, but so were the denizens of this strange cabinet. Perhaps...maybe, they could agree to leave each other alone? At least for the time being? Foolish optimism, wins again. ”Please…” Anxiety mixed with hope, a tone Marc lacked the acting skill to fake. It had to come from the heart...or, wherever such feelings can come from a Hollow. His intentions were clear enough; he was desperate for even a small amount of courtesy. But before such luxuries could be addressed...a long and echoing scream poured from the depths of the bosk. A young woman? Most likely in danger? Would this provide some reason or cause, for his brother to stay his hand?

[Kashmir De-Mona]

OOC: Perhaps I should have stated this earlier, but my post should be skipped. The two of you should take 2-3 posts to interact, and then we will continue toward the end of the adventure.

[Marcelius]

(OoC: Royce...no...he stabs me when you aren't around. D= I wear sunglasses and type long posts to hide the bruises.)

[Kashmir De-Mona]

OOC: You are correct. I should intervene. Besides, I would like to proceed to the sequel of this thread soon. "YOU ARE ME..." Adalo vs Zeich coming.

IC:

A shadow appeared between Uzumaki and Zeich. A shadow appeared, literally, a shadow; it was a black silhouette with no eyes or features besides black shadow, and it even appeared to be a two dimensional form, though unlike most shadows it simply hovered in the air with those who had three dimensions. With those who had three dimensions, it could coexist, and it did, floating there like paper. There was no sensation from the touch of the shadow, but it had one arm around Zeich's shoulder and another around Uzumaki's. Uzumaki instinctively flinched. Uzumaki's instinctive flinch was met with the arm not disappearing, but extending to remain on his shoulder. In disgust, Uzumaki flinched further, and his sword lashed out to cut the shadow. The shadow's arm remained untouched, and it even remained around Uzumaki's shoulder. No matter what Zeich or Uzumaki did, they would possess the shadow's arms around their shoulders. The shadow's only feature was a grin with a mouth that was even blacker than the rest of the body, but the upward crescent shape could not be mistaken for anything else. It could be nothing else, and mistaken for nothing else, and was only a grin to mock all of them.

There was more than one shadow. There was another shadow, who had appeared next to Marcelius, with arm draped around the fellow Arrancar's. Zeich and Uzumaki did not possess the reiatsu sensing abilities of Marcelius, so they would be surprised, but not as surprised. They would not be as surprised as Marcelius was, for the shadow's reiatsu seemed to be...limitless. The shadow's reiatsu seemed to be infinite. The shadow's reiatsu seemed to be endless. The shadow had infinite, endless reiatsu. Marcelius sensing would discover that there was no limit to the shadow's reiatsu, and that otherwise it was a bottomless black pit without feelings, memories, thoughts, or presence. There was no sensation to being touched by the shadow. There was no sensation to being touched by the shadow, yet there it was nonetheless to touch them. It had nothing more to it than met the eye and the sensory. It had nothing more to it, however there needed to be nothing else. It was not only an enigma, but it was also a conundrum. Not only was it a conundrum, but it seemed to be a menace. It seemed to be a menace, for it was mocking and smelled of evil. There could be no mistake that it was evil.

"Heyyyy nowwwwww....." the shadow in between Zeich and Uzumaki, which was a slightly lighter black than the second, making it light shadow, said. "Whyyyy the long faaaacesssss?" The shadow next to Marcelius, which was a slightly darker black than the first, making it dark shadow, also spoke. "You should turn back now..." dark shadow said with a very deep voice. Light shadow had a very high pitched voice, not unlike the pink fluff that Marcelius had earlier encountered, with the same sort of breathy intonation and drawn out speech. With the same sort of breathy intonation and drawn out speech, but with similarity ending there. The aura of the two were empty and void, nebulous nothing. "You're not gonna find heeerrrrrr!!!! You're neevverrr going to seeee heerrrrrrr!!!!" light shadow exclaimed with laughter. Light shadow laughed, and with mirth, and laughed again with more mirth. "You should turn back now..." dark shadow said with a very deep voice. Both shadows were being mocking. Both shadows were also being evil. There could be no words better than those to describe the twin shadows who were speaking to Marcelius, Zeich, and Uzumaki.

At once, the slug creatures began to multiply. More and more kept crawling out from around the trees. Their memories whispered of pain and distorted mentality. Their minds screamed of agony and suffering in their presence forms. There were dozens around the tree, and they all stopped moving. Dozens more came to surround Marcelius as well, but they did not approach him for attack. All of them were still and watching. All of them were still and watching, breathing, almost lifeless, but alive enough that they could not be ignored. There was something about this which was fishy. "HUUUUMMMAAAAANNNNSSSSSS..." a loud voice suddenly boomed. The tree that possessed Zeich and Uzumaki shook, and they were shaken out of the tree. Uzumaki landed on his feet in astonishment. In astonishment, Uzumaki watched as hundreds of trees started to stand, their roots becoming legs. Their roots became legs, and the trees started to stand and develop faces, and their branches became arms. Their roots became legs, their bark grew faces, and their branches became their arms, and they came alive. The trees actually started to come to life. They all had the same uniform call.

"HUUUMMAAAANNNSSSS...ABUSING...OUR...FOREST...KILLING...OUR...FRIENDS...GIVING...US...SADNESS...AND...PAIN...HUUUMMAAANNSSS...NOOOOO MOOORREEE!" The trees started to walk around and chant these same lines and move. There was screeching from the slug creatures while the trees started to dance and cause shaking of the earth. Then, light shadow gasped, for he too had jumped from the tree, but this was not why he gasped. He gasped for another reason. "Oh! HUGH!" he gasped. "I lied." Light shadow began to throw up. Something came out of his mouth, but it was not chunky. It was fully solid. His mouth opened wide, wider than his head. His head extended for his mouth to open and his jaw to double unclench. Out came a young girl with brown hair, pale skin, and no clothes on, covered in black slime and her own blood and some cuts. She looked traumatized, but she was alive, with wide eyes, panting. "OHHH HEEYYYYY!" light shadow exclaimed with a smile. "The old man's daughter..." dark shadow remarked while the trees danced and the slug creatures shrieked. All was unfolding in a curious if not dubious way.

Light shadow's arm turned into a sword form, and he pointed it at the girl. He pointed his arm sword at the girl, and rubbed it a bit against her cheek. He rubbed it against her cheek a bit to draw blood, to show that it was possible. Showing that it was possible, there was a drop of blood cut from her cheek. She did not move or even scream. She was far too traumatized to do this, as one might expect. She was not even certain of what was happening in the situation at present. Instead, light shadow made an exclamation. "SHIINNIIGGAAAMMMIIII!!! One of you, kill the other, or I'm going to kill the girl!" Meanwhile, the trees kept dancing and chanting. "Humans must die. Humans must die. Humans must die." Huge rips in the fabric of space started opening everywhere to reveal images like reflections in water, bubbly images which were also wavy and diluted, but still clear, of cities throughout the human world. Paris, Washington D.C, and more. The trees kept chanting, and started walking toward those cities, waving their branches around wildly. They walked toward the portals. Hundreds of trees. "You had better stop them, or there will be death and destruction everywhere..." dark shadow said. "BUT FIRST, DECIDE. ONE OF YOU DIES, OR THE GIRL DIIIEEEESSS...." light shadow chimed. The slug creatures shrieked, and started closing in on Marcelius.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Zeich closed his eyes a moment, drawing on his inner reserves of calm. He could feel the pulse of the Shadow within him, the creature's stirring growing by the moment as the Arrancar drew near. Did perhaps the dark creature within him, the one that bore so many resemblances to a Hollow, felt some sort of kinship with the being below? The Shinigami wouldn't have been surprised had it not been for the situation. The Arrancar below, the one whose name he had not learned in their last encounter, seemed to be unusually... perceptive, was the word? The hybrid monster had seemed to see beyond the surface, hesitating where he might have struck, pulling back blows as he attacked with no intent of fatal force. Perhaps he knew something... no, he would not go to an Arrancar of all people for help. The monster would likely twist his words and poison the Third Seat's mind with lies, all in the name of “helping.”

So then, all that was left was a reply. “Can we talk? No. Words cannot speak between us. You are an Arrancar, a scourge created from Hollows, twisted souls that have been taken from the cycle of life and death by despair and rage. We are Shinigami, the protectors of that cycle. Our mission is to destroy beings like you, and free the human souls trapped within their shell of sorrow.” As he spoke, he could feel the Shadow's presence bubbling up within him, growing stronger, the cackle of its laughter filling his ears. The mockery was evident; with the dark being inside his soul, who was the twisted one? Was it the Arrancar, quiet and careful below, or the visage of a man barely keeping the darkness within in check?

Why not just kill him? Save yourself the questioning...!

No, he would not give into the Shadow's demands. They weren't anywhere near as strong as when he had fought with Vice-Captain Izumi, so he could retain control without difficulty. At this point they were words whispered in his ear, accompanied by the aura of tainted hatred and bloodlust, and they had no power over him. With concentration, he forced the creature's presence away, burying it in the back of his head and muting its whispers. Instead his attention was turned towards the Arrancar once more, and he drew Haiiro from its sheath. The blade let out a soft rasp of metal against the sheath, and the weapon's point was directed in his foe's direction in a moment. Even in this forest of death, Zeich knew his priorities.

“So now, we come to the inevitable conclusion. As an Arrancar, you must—” Zeich froze. He couldn't explain right away why, but he realized that he... felt something. It was strange, dark, twisted, unnatural... he could just feel it. There was no sense of direction, just a feeling of presence, of existence without form. It wasn't something that tickled at his ability to sense spiritual energy, nor something that his body sensed; it was just... there. Uzumaki's gasp and subsequent flinch caused Zeich to turn around, eyes narrowing as he caught sight of the shadow between them. Fear, a familiar companion, was pushed away with difficulty as Zeich shared into a shadow as deep as the darkness in his soul. Was this the manifestation of the being within him...?

The way the creature spoke suggested otherwise, and that caused Zeich's fear to abate. Though Uzumaki was not handling the shadow's presence well, slashing at it to no avail, the Third Seat managed to keep a neutral expression, analyzing the creature before him. It wasn't that he wasn't afraid, no; this dark being was the first one that had actually spoken to him within the confines of the forest, meaning that it was intelligent, but it was also a malevolent manifestation of the darkness filling the area. Zeich's experience with the Shadow within him simply overwhelmed his discomfort with the shadow outside, and as a result he was able to keep his calm. It was rational thought, rational control; he was not letting his emotions take over.

The Arrancar didn't seem to have it any easier, a darker shadow making itself known to him just as the lighter one was interfering with the Shinigami. Neither seemed to have an adverse effect, yet Zeich was willing to believe that neither of them were any less than hostile. They sought to mock him, telling the Shinigami to turn back. The message was obviously intended for Zeich himself, the only one who knew that a young woman was lost within the dark woods. So she was lost and could not be found? So be it. Zeich did feel remorse for the life lost, but he could not mourn either. Lives were lost, but he could not have done anything about it. He would feel sorrow for those lost, but it would not shackle him.

Zeich's whole world shifted, literally, as the tree beneath him began to move. Landing easily on his feet, the Third Seat immediately twisted himself around to see what was going on. Surprise filled him at the sight of a walking, talking tree, but he kept his expression neutral as he prepared for battle. “...Suppress, Haiiro.” Immediately his Zanpaktou dissolved into ash, though a copy of it formed immediately after in his hand, leaving a fair amount of the gray cloud still remaining. The blade, formed from the ash through Zeich's Haiiro Ken technique, was a darker sheen than the rest of the material it had been formed of, closer to an ebony than a gray. It settled easily into the Third Seat's hand as he prepared himself to combat the tree that had dropped them, his eyes narrowed and his stance loose. It was at that moment that several trees began to move, and then the whole forest. Zeich's eyes widened; he might have been able to handle one of the monsters, but a whole forest of them? Still, there was nothing they could do; there was nowhere to run, no where to hide from the forest they dwelt in.

A distraction came in the form of the light shadow behind them, who suddenly expelled the very girl they had been looking for, and proceeded to threaten them. Zeich froze, a choice placed before him. Did he risk the girl's life for the sake of a comrade? Was there some way to save both? Clearly he had little time to react, to make a decision, and so it had to count. Fortunately, for the cool-headed Shinigami, the choice was easy. The balance of practicality in his mind had not yet shifted despite the circumstances around him; it would take more than walking trees and living shadows to shake one who had lived with his own darkness threatening to harm those around him, one who had kept it at bay as long as he had. This struggle couldn't begin to compare to the other.

Even as the shadow's blade slid against the girl's throat, ash coalesced around it, forming a blunting edge that would prevent the blade from harming her further. Even if there was no solid substance to cling to now, clearly there had to be some sort of mass for the cut to have damaged the girl. The coating from Haiiro Shi-su would prevent any further attacks that would come by hovering around the blade, stopping it if it came too close to the girl. It would remain in effect as long as Zeich was willing to spend the Reiatsu on it, and for the moment, he was. If he could protect the girl without putting himself and his comrade at risk, then he could afford to.

Of course, that was only the start of the situation. The trees were coming to life, speaking of destruction and of death. Zeich could see no way to stop them, at least not as a whole; he could perhaps take out one or two, but with Haiiro's limited abilities, there was nothing he could do against the greater mass... “...I hope you have something big hidden away, Uzumaki. We're going to need a miracle.”

Remaining Reiatsu: 2050/2500 (-200 for Shikai, -50 for Haiiro Ken, -100 for Haiiro Shi-su)

Shikai: 1/10

Ash: 1/5 for Haiiro Ken, 1/5 for Haiiro Shi-su, 3/5 free

[Marcelius]

(OoC: I am...TERRIBLY sorry about the delay. I have been having issues for days deciding the best IC way to handle this post.)

No effort did he spare, for sorrow or contempt. It would be a waste to do so. Such emotions took hold of him as though he were a reigned beast. They guided his every thought. Dismissing them was unavoidable, but showcasing them was not. His face did not twist as it normally migh, to convey the sadness which filled him. Rather, he stared blankly and allowed the young man to finish his confession. As heartbreaking as the words were to hear...there was no way to convince their advocate that he had a heart to feel it. Accepting the speech as the condemnation it was, the elder could not help but wonder. What cycle had he broken? In what way was his existence, exempt from the process of life and death? He was as all creatures are, a spoke on the wheel. He lived now, but he could just as easily die.

It was in no way different from the lengthy lives which the Shinigami lived...yet they were entitled and he was not? His kind was not? What sort of blind ideology was that? Hmmm...Death Gods are truly such. All they can comprehend is the death the deal. It was a need for them, just as much as the desire for his younger brethren. The necessity of death, to cause it...to taste it. The boundaries which separated them, Shinigami and Hollow, had never seemed so insignificant as they did now. And this was coming from an Arrancar, hybrid of the two. Within his mind, in privacy and secret, "How tragic it must be for you, to not have the benefit of our excuse. At least we are expected to be so vicious and cruel...while you must try and justify why you are a monst..." The thought came so suddenly, that it nearly winded him..."Monster. That is what this is." Raising his eyes, eyes beginning to gleen with the dawn of total comprehension. "This is the suffering. This is the Hunger." Eyes widening as he spoke, "I know that voice. I can hear you..." Starring now, straight through to the Mask the adorned his soul...speaking with a restored sense of compassion. "Brother..."

It was the voice. The whispers from within. These were the lyrics which rekindled Marcelius' soul. A shade trapped within such an unlikely soul, a brother imprisoned in another's body. How could this be explained? How could a Hollow reside within a Shinigami? Their kind did not consume their dead, not the flesh in any sense. There was no claiming of the essence, no exchange between the souls. So how...how was Zeich possessed by family in this way? Being a student of spiritual inquiry, Marc was wise to the nature of typical Soul Reapers. The only voices which sang within their souls were those of their Zanpakuto. A spirit within a spirit, a mutulism that includes the frequent exchange of power and banter. But this was not the soul of a sword...no, Marcelius could hear that elsewhere. H...Ha-Harrio, that was the name. A supportive friend, embeded within both the body and the blade.

That was the voice which had been louder. It was the prevailing tone, even from the time of the invasion. Though he had not heard much of it through Las Noches immense walls, the voice felt familiar. Even without great knowledge or acquaintance with this individual, it's identity was still quite assured. Again he thought, "Brother. Why can I hear you..." This experience was unlike any the old man had ever witnessed. As weathered as he was, with all that he had seen, this was something truly unique. It was clear, by this fact alone, that whatever this was...it was something new to the world. New, by the measurements which he uses. The problem was, he was still in no position to learn what it was he was observing. Once more, he and Zeich were set against one another. Was this destiny's way of telling him something? Was Marcelius not supposed to learn the truth? How cruel a fate to bestow...such a curious soul as his.

That sound, a Zanpakuto scraping the innards of it's scabbard, is such a disgusting thing. Worse still was the noise, when heard through the sixth sense. The ability to sense the the effects of energy with the acuity that he did...made the vibrating spiritual particles quite the disruption. Like the violent strum across a piano or harp. It was almost, vulgar. Certainly it was enough to cause the senior to cringe. His back tightening up as the pain in his head radiated down the nerves of his spine. Perhaps Zeich was perceptive enough to notice this subtle display of discomfort? Surely, if his youthful senses could detect such a thing, his skills could decipher it? Marc surely hoped so, for he was listening closely to each and every thought which blossomed in the Shinigami's contemplations.

While this was his usual routine whenever danger loomed over his head, today was something special. For he needed to hear more from the unseen brother. Being a Hollow, it must think and behave as the majority of them do. Enticed by discomfort. Enthralled by anguish. Delighted to the point of aggression. If he could hear it again, only once more, maybe he could learn something. Unfortunately, the Fraccion could not rely on battle to stoke the sleeping dog. No, this one was well trained against that. As soon as their swords clash, and the longer they do so, the more the warrior will surpress the voice within. Resorting to instincts and routine, he will numb his mind to the dark passenger's influence. A mind numbed, is far more difficult to read. So. To get what he wanted, Marcelius would express all the terrorized qualities which stimulate even the most tender of his species. Starting with another desperate plea. "Please...do not do this. Not now..." Half tempted to raise his hands even higher than before, "What of the girl, her life cannot wait!"

No sooner had his words ushered forth, did something worse than any Death God enter their scene. Though the first to arrive was guest to the Shinigami and their tree...Marc did not even notice it. The flattened shadow might as well be invisible to his weary blue eyes. And in regard to that excitable speech of his -the one that should make Marcelius recall- it would go unheard. It was not the actors fault nor shortcoming, it was all to blame on Marcelius. It was he who focused to closely on the sounds coming from Zeich; drowning out all other noise his average ears might hear. Mmm...but there was something more "eye catching" than Zeich's possession. It was the mucus that started up beside the codger. The vacuous pit, to which an infinite amount of Reiatsu might fall and be swallowed up.

The disturbing aura of this spiritual black hole, made someone of Marc's sensitivity quite unhappy. Couple that with the rather casual way the intrusive gheist lingered upon the Arrancar's shoulder...and you have one grumpy, old man. Unable to turn towards the event horizon, Marcelius was forced to listen to the abomination speak with his head rudely turned away. Sadly, it was the only way to bear such a repugnant subsistence. Just what was this effigy? Was it the family member he had been seeking? His mission from before the discovery of Yajuu's odd genealogy. Whith a body as the one it showed now -not the physical or incorporeal form...but the reiatsu which it embodied- there was no way to claim it a Hollow. There was too much power for something like tha. What it did sound like, however...was an Arrancar. A fellow Broken Mask, who has unleashed the full measure of it's Resurreccion. That thought before, the similarities of this place to his Cancion, suddenly felt far more likely. Just what kind of mess were he and the Soul Reapers involved with?

Not even an introduction, and the creeper was telling him to leave. The darkened figure felt as though it would engulf him at any moment, and yet it told him to leave rather than take the meal that was available. What was worse...Marc was quite tempted to take the offer. This situation was escalating rapidly, far more than the elder's preference typically enjoyed. The Shinigami were set to strike him down, and now what he could only fathom as a resurrected Arrancar was joining the fray. An Arrancar he could not see or feel, beyond the unending supply of power it exuded onto the field of battle. With all of these circumstances joined together...very little really encouraged the Fraccion to stay.

Such was the case, but a single thought resurfaced from history. A thought which came attached to a gift, one still tightly gripped in his right hand. Turning his head towards the blackened visage at his side, he uncoiled his large fingers...to reveal the peculiar crystal within them. The liquid filled oddity, from the shop of wonders, which would glow in the proximity of darkness. It was offered as a ward against the shadows. A means of protection for him. Though there was warning, that it would not work on the more powerful horrors in the blackness...it was still something. At the very least, he can see how well the shopkeep had mislead him. Do remember, he was yet to take notice of the eerily similar tone of the "lighter shade".

Ah, but before he could make use of his gift; the ground began to shake and the forest began to move. Uprooting themselves from their sedimentary roosts, the treeds of the vastwood began to ascend. Timbers crackig and shaking to life. Words failed him, as he tried to fought not to be overwhelmed. Why overwhelmed? Well, like ancient pathogens in the human world...trapped in airy pockets beneath the roots of the oldest of trees...beneath this forest their was a plague of slugs. Those pale, miserable deformities. They clamoured and sprouted from the earth and the space beyond sight. While the oaks danced and chanted their war call, these creatures flooded the now marching grove.

With each new one that entered, Marcelius' he played host to yet another voice. Each one more tragic than the last, each only adding to the consonance of the Choir with him. The list of performers was becoming quite long and varied. So many stories, so many miseries...and he was feeling them all. Though itlong ago made his stomach roll and grow queasy...now it had him hunching over in pain. Both hands dropped to his ears, desperate to keep out the collection of victims. The trees were dancing and the slugs were crying. All the while the old man heard songs no other could hear. Did this all not seem...unreal? It might have. It could have. But for his bombarded mind, there was no room to deduce the truth. Could it get much worse?

The slithering voice of the blackened soul, oozed through to the conscious buried beneath the music. Through the torments and the agaonies he was forced to relive; the threat of another was always loud enough to hear. Even above the rabble of the Chorus. So when the shadow spoke of the girl, the life she still held and the father that he knew was lost; Marcelius was pulled out of the horde which saught to torture him so. Shaking where he stood, he raised his eyes once more to look ahead. Only now did he realize, the wretched well of Reiatsu he heard...had a twin. That their performance was a duet. This discovery; which should have frightened him beyond measure, was subverted by the girl. The ragile flicker of her life, only traceable, by the horrors which filled her existence. She was a living tragedy. But for how much longer she could survive, there was no way to tell.

So the voice at his side suggested again, something about the trees and the destruction of man. Such words fell upon a theater without an audience, for Marc's thoughts were already gone. All that was left, was for his body to leave as well. A there would be no flicker, nor any sound. No indication or trail by which to follow. Nothing but the light bringing crystal, which fell from where he once stood. The old Arrancar simply vanished, as Sonido took over. Not the typical step his people were famous to use, but something different and silent. And where did his step take him...straight for the girl. It was instinct, pure and illogical. Everything in him screamed, "Save her!" It was not something he could refuse or ignore. Better judgement was gone the moment he heard her pitiful soul shivering in the cold. It was like his own little ones...all over again.

He had to reach her. Before the shade could notice, before the Shinigami might save her...after all, he was unaware of the brighter shadows bargain. Even had he been within earshot, and the words not drowned out by the sing souls and jigging trees, he would not have listened. The old sound this father's "heart" could hear...was the child who had suffered long enough. No sooner would he arrive at her side, would he try to scoop her into his arms and dash again. As dazed as she was, the unnatural speed and sensation of the step should not affect her. Not when he held her face buried into his chest. With her in tow, if he could be so fortunate, he would make towards any one of those near tears. They being the only doors out of this Wonderland of malice...

Remaining Reiatsu - 1050/1200
-150 Sin Sonido
-150 Sin Sonido, Pending success of the first.


Your soul is a dark forest.
But the trees are of a particular species,
they are genealogical trees.
- Marcel Proust
(OoC: I found this after I finished my post, got a sp00ky vibe, then had to share. XD )

[Kashmir De-Mona]

SPOILER: Click to show

{Play this}

Do you want to know...how I died? It's not a long story. Well, it could be, if I wanted it to be. But from a young age I knew that I was gifted. I always thought as much to myself. I saw other kids playing immature games together, but I always knew that I was above that. I spent my time doing far more meaningful things. I painted, and I read a lot of things from any source that I could find about anything which I could think of. When I came of school age, school was decidedly too easy. It was beneath me, as was socializing as I grew into my adolescent years. Parties, hooking up, clubs, sports...all beneath me. My time was spent nurturing my obvious triple digit IQ, and becoming an expert in dozens of different fields, using any sources that I could to perform research. I became rather consumed by my research, and in becoming an expert in all things. I did not go to college, and instead chose to continue living with my parents and continue research. College, after all, was beneath me...

The girl had been saved, not by Zeich, but by Marcelius. The girl had been saved, not by Shinigami, but by Arrancar. The girl had been saved, for one had acted quickly and taken her away in a burst of movement. This movement had carried the poor young girl, and taken her far away, out of reach. This movement had carried the poor young girl, who otherwise might have been penetrated by the shadow, which moved through the cloud of ash which had intended to block the girl. It stabbed into the ground, and when it retracted it left a stab marking there. When it retracted, it was known that it could cause physical harm, but that it could not be interfered with otherwise. Perhaps there was a different trick to it. Perhaps there was no trick to it at all, and it was simply of a different power. Perhaps it was simply of a different power, but all had come to a sickening situation which they would fear continuously.

The trees kept moving, and the Shinigami were helpless to that. So was the Arrancar. The girl was panting in the Arrancar's arms, panting and breathing. Her emotions were a mess. Her mind was a mess. Her spirit had been fragmented and traumatized. If there was any way of fixing her, it would not be easy. It was not impossible, but it would take a long time. It was not impossible, but did anyone truly possess the patience to do it? The girl looked up into the eyes of the fatherly man. The girl looked up into the eyes of the nurturing Arrancar, and she shivered in his arms. She shivered in his arms, no matter how hard he grasped her, or how he warmed her and tried his best to give her peace of mind. And she was singing, in a low voice audible only to one carrying her, but still singing.

"Someone's always watching me...someone's always there. When I'm sleeping, he just waits...and...he stares. Someone's always standing in...the darkest corner of my room. He's tall and wears a suit in black...just like a perfect...groom." She sang this over and over again in a dull voice full of melancholy. It was repetitive, and always the same slow pace with slurs. It was repetitive, and always the same slow melody. It was repetitive, and always the same slow melody which was accompanied by slurs. She was horrified by something. Her sanity had been wavering for some time. Fixing it would be difficult. Her spirit had been broken. Her spirit had been broken, and her sanity tormented. The images in her mind were of a devious smile belonging to a face white as the moon was pale. The images in her mind were of being forced to eat flesh, and of other things, worse than the average imagination could divine.

Do you want to know...how I died? Well, eventually, I was taken as a trophy wife by someone, and we had two children. I had no problem admitting that I was a trophy wife. I could spend all day researching if I wished, and I had achieved success without what the ignorant call true brilliance and without truly hard work. It proved how far above the rest of the cull that I was. Until the day that I saw him feeding on my children. I walked into their room to see them, and I saw their bunk bed had been destroyed and was in pieces. I saw tentacles crushing them, and I saw their skin becoming dry, and their bodies turning into rotted husks. I tried to run away, and cut my losses, but in seconds I was in a tentacle too. I don't know what happened after that. As it happened, I could only think about the children that had been better at socializing than me. I could only think about those who had not respected or acknowledged my brilliance as they should have. And when I opened my eyes and saw myself surrounded by darkness, all that I wanted was revenge...

"I...I don't know..." Uzumaki admitted to Zeich. "Do you have any large scale attacks? If you do, I can funnel my reiatsu to you so that you can fuel something huge to try to stop these trees. Otherwise, I don't know...Is there a way to close the portals?" Perhaps the shadows had something to do with it. This was possible. This was possible, and Uzumaki thought so as well. He was looking at the shadows, glancing between them, while speaking. Perhaps this was the secret. Perhaps not. However the shadows were intangible. This would make assault on them very difficult. If something was going to be done, it would need to be now. If something was going to be done, it would need to be when Zeich and Uzumaki possessed most of their reiatsu storages.

[Zeich Yajuu]

Things were spiraling out of control quickly, but something stood out in Zeich's mind. The Arrancar had saved the girl where Zeich's ash had not, the Hollow being carrying her away. The Third Seat's hand gripped his ash-formed sword more tightly, knuckles whitening. What sort of world was it when a Shinigami couldn't save a human, yet an Arrancar did? Something about that fundamental reversal was painful in its core, yet despite that he found his greatest anger not to be at the Arrancar, but at himself. He was stronger than this; why had he held back, resorted to a defensive technique? He could have attacked, his sword ripping through the shadows like paper. There was some substance to them, else they would not have been able to harm the girl; all he had to do was cut them apart, make them bleed...

No! That's not... those aren't my thoughts...

No... they're not, are they?

Zeich's eyes widened, his body tensed and froze. His hand clutched at Haiiro's ash-formed hilt with increased intensity, but for a moment, he seemed locked up, his muscles alien and unfamiliar to him. It was only a moment, not enough for Uzumaki to notice, but for that brief second, Zeich had not been able to move his body at all. The Shinigami's breathing became more labored, and he fought the shivers that threatened his form. What was going on? Was it another possession? What were these momentary lapses of control, and what took hold? Obviously, it was the Shadow within his soul, but what was it? What was this thing that could so easily hook its claws into his very being and take control so easily? What did it want? Why was this happening!?

Calm yourself, master! You're losing control!

That would not happen. Zeich's hand tightened even further around his sword, enough that he could feel the hilt's texture being imprinted into his palm, but he fought back panic, fought back the fear that was rising within him. He was not afraid, and he would not let his control slip. The amber mirrors of his eyes that had briefly broken with self-doubt now hardened into ice, into steel, as the Third Seat's expression relaxed, his coldness reasserting himself. The same wall of apathy that had kept others away for so long was now the barrier to hold the darkness within himself in, to keep the creature back that wanted to take over. His emotions were a conduit, a way from the Shadow to arise within him, and to by breaking them away, by isolating them along with the beast itself, he could keep it at bay... for now.

Alright... focus. What do I do...? Analytical study of the situation took over, and the objective way of thinking helped Zeich keep himself stable emotionally and mentally. The enemies in the battlefield were too many to count easily; there were two shadows, one light and one dark, as well as the forest of trees. The shadows were obviously in control, possessing the most intellect. The trees were the biggest threat however, both in their number and the possibility of spreading into the World of the Living, where they could cause death and destruction. And then, to top it all off, there was the Arrancar, the one whom Zeich had met in the past and been pitted against previously, who had taken the girl they had been trying to rescue. He was a wild card in all of this; was he the cause?

Something about that particular Arrancar bothered Zeich. The way their eyes met, it was like staring into the gaze of an old man. Not a monster, but a human; the age and compassion that existed in that gaze was... frightening. If he didn't know better, didn't know that he was the Shinigami and that he was facing down an Arrancar, Zeich might have said that their positions were reversed. He was one to steel himself, to kill emotion before it could rise up, knowing what it could bring with him. It made him cold, effective, apathetic, while the Arrancar who had looked at him with such... curiosity, such desire for enlightenment... was warm, spirited, thoughtful and inquiring. Of the two... why did the Arrancar feel more human? Why did Zeich feel as though he were the monster, the threat, the anomaly?

Realizing that his concentration was starting to slip into self-doubt again, the Third Seat took a deep breath and went back to his understanding of the situation. There were many trees, and many portals; by himself he possessed no way to destroy all of them, or even a significant number. Zeich's Shikai was meant for subtle, direct attacks on a single target in order to bind and suppress any ability to fight that they had. He lacked Bankai, so there was nothing larger he could unleash for this situation. He knew no Kido, focusing instead on Hakuda for hand-to-hand single combat, meaning that even his auxiliary techniques would not do enough to deal with a significant number of trees in the short time he had. Uzumaki's abilities were of no help either; he could fuel another's abilities with his own Reiatsu, but that did little when Zeich possessed nothing that could augmented sufficiently.

What about a Cero...?

The thought slipped into Zeich's consciousness before he could clamp down on the Shadow's influence, which was growing stronger by the moment. Something about their environment, about their surroundings and the desperation of the situation, was influencing the dark being, drawing its attention and encouraging it to wrest control away. And worse yet... why did it ask about Cero? What did it know about Cero? Zeich had never done research on Hollow abilities before, though he did know the basics of it from the Academy, as well as experience with Hollow combat, but he knew little about its makeup or potential. So why, then, would the Shadow ask about it with such a... familiarity? Could it be...?

No. No, that wasn't a possibility, and Zeich pushed it away before he considered it. The suggestion, however, did have merit, as much as the Third Seat disliked it; if he and Uzumaki lacked the destructive potential to do something about this situation... what about the Arrancar? Though the creature had shown multiple opportunities to attack them, to simply attempt to devour them, he had shown a restraint Zeich had not seen among any Hollow beings, and that alone was the only reason that the Shinigami did not immediately reject the idea. If, perhaps, Uzumaki's power worked with abilitites such as Cero... could they augment one of the Arrancar's attacks in order to eliminate most of the trees, and perhaps the shadows as well? Was it even possible? There was only one way to find out.

“...Uzumaki. I have an idea... but neither of us is going to like it. Bear with me, nonetheless, and be ready to funnel your Reiatsu as I direct it. We may yet stop this madness before it has a chance to take root. And be careful of the shadows; with me stepping away even for this short time, they may take it as a decision for you to die. Watch your back.” Zeich vanished with a Shunpo as he finished giving his orders, stepping past both shadows and making his way towards where he had seen the Arrancar taking his leave. Though Shunpo could not keep up with Sonido normally, the Third Seat still somehow managed to close the distance; was he truly that much faster than the Arrancar? No, the creature was still very fast, but his Sonido seemed subdued compared to the normal. Still, it gave Zeich the ability to catch up quickly.

“Arrancar! Stop where you are!” The Shinigami practically materialized next to the man, his sword coming around towards his “captive's” neck, not to slice through but to create a point at which the Arrancar would have to stop, lest he decapitate himself. “I don't normally like to ask for help from monsters, but you seem... less so than most Arrancar, so I will take a chance with you.” It was probably the closest concession that the Shinigami had given towards the Arrancar's humanity, though even that seemed strained as Zeich fought to keep his voice level, to keep the disgust from his tone. This thing had once been a Hollow, a dark creature that existed only to devour souls; how could anything human arise from it?

“These monsters, these shadows, whatever they all are, they need to be stopped lest they get into the World of the Living and destroy everything in their path. My companion has the ability to channel Reiatsu into others to augment their abilities, but I lack anything destructive for such a large area.” Zeich spoke quickly; there was little time. “Now, this is where we need you. We need you to release a Cero, particularly a big one if you have it, and it will be supplemented by my companion's ability. With luck, we will destroy the majority of these trees, and prevent them from wreaking havoc on innocent humans.”

A wave of nausea, of disorientation washed over Zeich briefly, causing him to mentally reel, though on a visible level little changed. Marc would see a smile cross the Third Seat's face, but it was a chilling one, especially on a visage normally so stoic. It was a self-confident, dominant, feral grin. During this brief moment, Marc would feel that familiar feeling again, the one he recognized... but it was so much stronger now, as though it had completely swallowed up the cold Shinigami that had normally contained it. Suddenly, a hand lashed out to grab at his shirt, pulling him close to eyes that seemed to brighten from amber to gold. [smear:545454]“And you will help me... or I will tear your throat out[/smear:800000] myself and enjoy the last few seconds of your miserable life bleeding out of you... Are we clear?”

And then that moment was past, the creature hidden and the Shinigami emerging once more. Zeich realized that he was staring eye-to-eye with the Arrancar. When had he grabbed at the thing's shirt? Pushing the Arrancar away quickly, startled by the sudden closeness, the Shinigami quickly made a few feet of distance between the two of them, then tilted his head towards where Uzumaki was waiting. “...Come on. We don't have all day. We need to act quickly, if you're going to help.”

Remaining Reiatsu: 2000/2500 (-50 for Shunpo)

Shikai: 2/10

Ash: 1/5 for Haiiro Ken, 4/5 free

[Marcelius]

Spread before him were the many vistas of the world. The entirety of the Human Realm lay within his grasp. Even without intimate knowledge of each, the old Arrancar could identify the various hunting grounds which he saw. The shock of seeing all of these locations set out for him was enough to cause the elder pause. Coming to a halt where the portal gathered, trying to decide which one he should take. The decision should be easy, no? Simply choose the closest one and leap? Oh if only he were so careless. No, it was not a decision in which the old man found confidence. Even if he could bring himself to trust the gateways as something more substantial than the mirage they could be...there was another complication. The young woman, the daughter, he clutched against his chest...he could not transplant her from one tragedy to another.

If he were to deposit her from this horror to some foreign land, what good would that do? He could not stay with her...nor did he wish to. So he would have to leave her where the living could find her, but living souls whom could understand her. Based on her speech, she could be from any number of places. As his large hands cradled her tighter, he could hear both thoughts and speech pour from her. Her natural dialect that of English. America, England, Australia, South Africa...she could be from anywhere! Sadly her memories offered no answers or clues. All he could gather from her memories lyrics, was that same malefic smile from before. That haunting, sisnister grin; which filled him with utmost terror. He feared that if anything were to happen to this young one, that she would turn into another one of those vile slugs. Such a fate, was more debilitating than an existence as a Hollow. He could not see such a fate take her. He refused to let such a tragedy become her future. The more he considered this, the more frantic he became. With such emotional incentive twisting his nerves into action; Marcelius began to leap for the portal to Washington...

Before his feet could press off from the ground, cold steel pressed against his bare neck. Before the weapon had slipped to his throat, instincts took the reigns. Arms wrapping further around his ward, his posture straightened out. With his spine upright, the separation between the singing child and the weapon would be as much as he could manage. There was little concern if they edge might slice through his skin; though, that seemed quite unlikely. No, the mind which gripped the handle of this tool was not one to end things so pleasantly. If his life were in outright danger, he would already be choking on that disturbing cloud of silence. Given that he were still quite capable of breathing, anxiety aside, was proof this was not an attack. So the venerable Hollow turned an eye towards the wielder at the far end of the sword. He did not twist his head or even shift his eyes. No, the blue pits kept their gaze locked upon the waiting escapes.

When he "looked" towards the Soul Reaper, it was into his soul. Digging, with mucho gusto, to scour for the feelings which compelled this constant assault. It was something that unnerved him, that even in such a situation as this, the Death God would prioritize his insignificant soul over the much larger threat currently dancing about. After all, how was he in any way as threatening as a genocidal forest? Marc was certain that some form of passion was compelling this individual in his rather singular course. Just what was it. Why was it so important for him to constantly remind the Hollow of his monsterous origins? What point was there in asserting this harsh truth? Was it to demoralize the senior? If so that was a terrible plan. Well, not against Marcelius, but certainly against the rest of his kin. Such comments were flattery to the likes of much of his race. From what he could see; the need to recite the moniker of monster was something other than a taunt. It was necessity. In this person, it served some ulterior motive. One far more meaningful. Why did Zeich need to constantly identify the monster...

Whilst the Reaper made his demands, the Hollow's mind was elsewhere. Yajuu spoke of a Cero, and a momentary lapse in hostility...but Marc did not notice the words. The plan itself, while absolutely cunning and resourceful, was still very simplistic. So straightforward was the idea, that the Arrancar could have guessed the moment his enemy solicited his aid. "What could a Hollow offer, that a Death God could in no other way obtain?" The answer was rather obvious. So where exactly was the senior's focus while the request was made? Why, looking at Zeich of course. Observing him. Listening...to the song that others failed to hear. The sounds of the brother locked within. Hearing the writhing soul revolt against it's cage. Hearing his kin claw and scratch at the walls, howling to be set loose from confinement. How bitter this prisoner sounded, enraged from an untold time of incarceration. Hearing this unamed sibling in his violent wrath, such concern filled the Fraccion.

What was to be done about this suffering? Was seeing it free the answer? Or was this family member rabid, beyond rescue? How much the venerable soul loathed this scenario...in which he could not reach out to his endangered familia. Ah, but this is when his collar was snagged. With force quite vicious at it's source, he was tugged from his contemplation by the heated impatience of slipping sanity. Would he help was the question. Would he do so without fuss? To save the lives of all the humans beyond the open doorways about them. There was no real hesitation in his reply...thanks in part to the limited options. With a grimace of utter revulsion, the Hollow leaned his arms towards the 3rd Seat. In them the fragile life of the girl, the treasure he had hoped to liberate from this hell. Handing her towards Yajuu, fearing she lacked the energy to stand...knowing she lacked the ability to protect herself. And with solemn woven deep into his tone, blue eyes weighed heavy with anxiety, he begged of the Shinigami. "Please. She is neither a threat, nor a hindrance. Spare her the injustice that befell Zu'um." Turning her over to the young man, the Fraccion moved quickly to block the encroaching woodlands.

Sights locked with Uzamaki, but no words were exchanged. The 7th Seat knew his task, just as Marcelius had agreed to his. It was time to see if their effort would be enough to deter this malefic blight of lumber. So with both hands, the elder soul reached out towards the foes. Wary of the shadows...the near godlike masters of this army, he opened his senses to feel for their unique signatures of endless power. If the "pits" were anywhere in the way...he would do his best to avoid them with his attack. It would be a waste to try and hurt such insurmountable foes. Making the most of his energy was paramount for this plan, nothing could be misued. Even if it were a success...even if his empowered attack could deal a significant blow to the vast number of targets...the old man was going to be left drained.

Had turning his back on the sly Zeich been a poor sign of trust, then his exhaustion would seal the deal. As developed as he was, it was clear Marc knew the downsides to "big" displays of power. When it was over, he would be at the mercy of his present company. Were they so inclined, their misguided views of "meecy" might seek to dispatch him in his tired state. They, like many others of their ilk, would considered it a fitting reward for the aid. They would think they set a suffering soul free...when in actuality, they simply ended a life. As the thought played in his mind, again and again, it did little to shake his resolve. Within both palms...tremendous light began to grow. It goes yellow at it's center, and turned to white the further it spread. Waiting for Uzamaki to attempt whatever it was he had in store, the Hollow primed two of the strongest Cero he could muster. Pouring whatever Reiatsu he had into their bodies, each of them rose in intensity...well beyond the strength of common Cero(Class 1).

Feeding off whatever the 7th Seat offered, Marcelius hoped to not pass out from the sheer physical strain of two such formations. Thankfully, with his great knowledge and mastery over the Hollow art...the cummulated masses of energy were each completed within an instant. Focused. Flawless. And with thundering vibration, eruptions of Reishi came from each hand. Stretching forward in massive pillars, the twin Cero carved a blistering swath through whatever might get caught within their wake. Two rivers of golden light, compressed at first, began to split and pull away from one another. This was Marc's doing, as he shifted each of his open palms outward. This spread would create a fan of destruction, with a wide radius...hoping to catch as many of the dancing flora in its burning rays. The elder dropped all composure as his fatigue set in. With such energy pouring so quickly from him...it was much akin to the groans of a dying man. Passionate. Empowered by the life which fleeted from him in each instant that passed him by. The result of allowing one's struggles to impact their emotions. To live harmoniously with one's struggles.


Remaining Reiatsu - 260/1200
-150 Sin Sonido
-320 Cero, Class 1
-320 Cero, Class 1

[Kashmir De-Mona]

SPOILER: Click to show

{Ominous music}

The ashes of the browned flatlands floated on the wind. The ashes of the browned flatlands floated on the winds, followed by embers. Followed by embers, which were followed by the acrid scent of fire. Ashes followed by embers followed by the acrid smell of fire, and all joined together by the dim red flames which remained in the area to burn at what was left of the trees, the flowers, and the wildlife of the forest. Nothing remained of it. Trees had been destroyed, however so had animals. However, so had those vile slugs. However, so had flowers and life. Uzumaki was on all fours gasping for breath. Gasping for breath, Uzumaki's entire person was covered in visible burns. Uzumaki's entire person was drenched in visible burns, and his skin was hot and it steamed. The girl's whimpers had died down. The girl's whimpers had died down, and the shadow men had silenced. The shadow men had silenced, as had all things, and the portals had closed. There remained only flatlands, destruction, and silence.

Monsters, you call us? That's crazy. Just because we have holes in our chests and wear masks? Not all of us were vile humans. Some of us were good humans who lived unfortunate lives. How can you deny that, and call us monsters? Are we still monsters after you cut us down with your blades, purify us, and send us to Soul Society? If not, then where do you draw the line? At what point are we monsters and are we not monsters? Look at you. You were willing to cause all of this death and destruction just to achieve your own ends. You had no hesitation to it, and you didn't even consider any possible alternatives. All of you, even those with the kindest hearts, were willing to do this. In that case, how is it fair to call us monsters? You kill. Some of you slaughter. Some of you fight for pleasure. Some of you crave and lust after blood. Some of you are greedy, selfish, and filled with as much darkness as we are. We're exactly the same, you and us. Only, you won't admit it.

Thoughts such as this resonated in the air. Not that of the shadows. Nor of the people. Nor of anyone present. Not that of the shadows, nor the people, nor of anyone present, nor of anyone visible. The thoughts nonetheless were clear for a listener who could listen. The atmosphere had changed to one of silence as well. The silence was deadening. Uzumaki still struggled to stand, but was failing. He had expended far more than his reiatsu to produce an effect which could achieve this. The twin Cero had been strong, fueled by emotions. Fueled by emotions, and by all of the power which Uzumaki could ever hope to provide, they had met their mark and achieved their end. The twin Cero had met their mark and achieved their end, though now all were left behind to witness the product. It was destruction. It was destruction, and it was also silence. It was dead and empty silence. It was dead and empty silence, of the sort within which only pondering of pain and anguish can take place.

You have to keep pretending, don't you? That everything makes sense. That you're the good, and we're the bad. But what if we defeat you? Does that mean we can claim that our ideology is the right one? Don't you know that history is written by the victors, and morality by the conquerors? Don't you know that when you kill us, it embitters us, and we in turn grow stronger so as to not be killed, and return and destroy you? And then the same thing happens in your ranks, and on and on and on. It's a circle....of death. A cycle...of chaos. It's a symphony of anguish. It's music to my ears. I know that it's music to yours too. Wouldn't you rejoice if you destroyed the Vandenreich? Or if you defeated the Segunda and killed him? Wouldn't you enjoy that? Come on, don't bullshit me. I know you. You and I are the same. You love death. You crave it. You're obsessed with killing. Every single one of you Shinigami who call us monsters are exactly the same. You just want us gone so you can continue denying it! HAHAHA!

The thoughts continued. The thoughts continued, but the silence was interrupted. The silence was interrupted by the speaking of one of the two shadows. Both shadows had been speechless before, but now one broke the silence and spoke. "I am surprised...." dark shadow spoke first in an ominous voice. In an ominous voice, dark shadow evaluated the situation. "You destroyed everything here to stop them. You did it believing yourself righteous as well." It was not a statement of lecture. It was not a statement of lecture, but rather an objective observation, or a studious one. It gauged the Arrancar and the two Shinigami. "I THINK THEY'RE THE OONNNEEESSS!" light shadow cried out with the most jovial and uplifted of glee. "Yes, their darkness is compatible with his....unlike those other slugs...." dark shadow replied. "He will be pleased." Light and dark shadow looked pleased with themselves. "Is he coming soon?" light shadow asked.

SPOILER: Click to show

{This song}

"He's already here...." dark shadow responded. And the air changed. The air changed, for someone new had come. Someone new had come, and the air had changed. He started to emerge out of thin air, like shadows coalescing into the man. Man, however, is but a term for another creature of this world bound by mortality and the most common conventions of pedantic logic. The one who emerged was more than a man. He wore a black tuxedo. He wore a black tuxedo and black hat. He ported a black tuxedo and hat, and had white, ghostly skin, and eyes cold blue ponds, frozen over to create ice color. But he was not cold. He was amused. A large grin was on his face when he emerged from the darkness. His large grin. The same evil grin which haunted the minds of the Shinigami and the Arrancar that had taken on this quest. The same eyes as the prisoner whose incarceration they had earlier experienced. Someone of a different caliber.

Someone of a different caliber of twisted. Twisted, with a horrendous reiatsu which alone expelled nightmare. The monster. Cruelty of a different sort. Cruelty founded upon joy and chaos. An Arrancar with such might that all in his presence were nearly crushed by it and by his aura. The cacophony that was the song of his aberrant mind confessed a being of darkness formed by the hatred of hundreds of thousands. A melodic melancholy from most hellish sirens detailed that such a being had formed here once, when those spirits had all gathered in that place, that area occupied by only a beaten shack, which from the beginning of time was unnaturally evil, and was destined for darkness for all eternity. It was never to happen, but happen it did. The thought song of this one sang out images of torture and killing, and of the grief and hatred of countless men, women, and children. All had gathered together, and formed someone who now alone desired only to see the world burn.

A new Arrancar had come to the scene.

"Adalo De-Mona..." light shadow whispered fearfully.

"Master Lord Primera...." dark shadow conjured faithfully.

Adalo grinned.

[Marcelius]

Had he a heart in his chest, it would most certainly be pounding. His every vessel would be gushing, pressure raised to the height of stress and pain. Through the coursing of his vitae, he would feel the outright weariness of every limb. Each portion of his body, from head to toe, weak and wilting. Muscles shivered as they tried to hold him erect, joints moaned out in fear that he may move. Wheezing poured from his chest, lungs speaking of their disdain. Each breath was taxing, filling his torso with a fresh and burning rush of exhaustion. This state he was in, long expected. From the moment he agreed to assist the Shinigami pairing, he knew this would be his fate. Unleashing a power great enough to level an entire forest, was something he was not suited to produce. Now transform that same bosk into battalions of marching oaks and elms, each driven by blood lust and spite...and suddenly the feat was much greater. No common forest fire would squelch this horde. The necessary force was such, that it nearly took the life from him.

What was left in the wake of his actions, was naught but a feeble husk. One who was finding it increasingly difficult to keep himself on both feet. Gravity itself was overpowering him, reducing him to the weakness of his youth. His earliest youth, when he lacked all means to walk or stand...or even raise his head. Breaking the omnipresence of silence, was two loud thuds. First the sound of his knees giving in, buckling as his own weight proved to great. Crashing down on both afforded him no small amount of agony, but sadly, did little to rebuff his collapse. Instead, there came the second noise. The splashing of his large hands into the ashy loam beneath him. It took both appendages to properly catch his hefty weight, and even then it caused a large stir of dust. Certainly not the most pleasant of side effects, considering how deeply his lips drew in air. Now his already tortured lungs were forced to endure the burning, sooty taste of charred soil. Yet, this discomfort did not occupy his mind. No, all these different trials of the body mattered little to the active mind within. Instead, his thoughts and focus fell elsewhere. So many places really. Having a great challeng in choosing between them. The Fraccion was concerned, one must know, for the many lives which still occupied this massacre site.

Behind him, strafing on either side, were the two Shinigami which had halted his prior escape. One sat motionless and quiet. An unfortunate consistency within his character...one that was most unwanted. The other, well, he did not remain so unfettered. Instead, he lay strewn across the grass which resided beyond the borders of destruction. Though the healthy flora was far softer than the bed of embers which spread out beneath the Arrancar, it did little to soothe the soldier. For he had fared little better than the plagued terrain ahead. Just as the turf had been scorched and displaced by great bursts of Reiatsu and destruction, so was his skin branded with searing injury. The wounds looked wretched, smoldering something terribe. It even seemed that the burns stretched beneath the man's attire, quite possibly covering the rest of his body withwith awful blisters. Had he the energy or the knowledge to help, it would likely not matter. The Hollow feared the worst for the Seventh Seat, who it seems, had given everything to stop a tragedy. Who knows how many lives the Reaper may have just saved. A shame that no one might ever learn.

Wait! What of the life that was here to witness the sacrifice? Turning his head to the side, the first real movement he had made since the Ceros subsided. Looking towards the one known as Yajuu, he wished to see the girl he had pleaded the man to defend. Was she alright? Had she been injured? Though his old ears were not keen enough to detect her breathing, he could still sense a faltering in her soul. If indeed she had survived, then it would not have been without tremendous struggle. The young woman needed to be removed from this area, taken somewhere. Anywhere. Sadly, the Arrancar was no longer in any condition to do so. It would have to be the Death God's responsibility. Would he do that...or would he..."A-ahck!" The elder grovelled as he tried to hoist himself from the ground. What hope he still had, now faltered. There would be no moving. Not on his part. Not for a while. He was truly as helpless as he suspected. Were it the will of the Shinigami, then his life would now be at an end. Without defense or capacity to flee, he was already laying upon the headsman's block. Would his cohort take this chance to drop the axe? Whether he did or not, the old man's conscience would begin to sink. Dreaming of all those who waited at this same spot before him, whom he had shown absolutely no mercy. That time had come again...

The Choir began, amd his thoughts expanded. Surely a philosopher might wonder? How the mind of a doomed man must think? For a soul who knows his end is at hand, can he remain aware of the shift of the world? Could the singing of a bird reach his ears? Or would his one racing pulse deafen him? Could the sweet fragrance of a flower liven his mind, with thoughts of happier times and continued life? Or would the stench of his own final breath cloud his nostrils with death's odour? Being residents of the afterlife, one might suspect that they knew the answer to such a riddle. Sadly, at this crucial moment of suspense, his mind was at a loss. Fear, no, that is not what unnerved the senior. Death was...apart of him. A component to who he was and remains. (Corpse humor, lol) It was not the certainty of his demise. Whether the Death God or nature itself struck him down, he did not mind in the least. Rather what cluttered Marcelius' thoughts, was a change it atmosphere. It was worse than a sudden clap of thunder, harkening the arrival of a vicious storm. It was more revolting than the buzz of a million insect wings; which precedes a blight of locusts. Darkness. The Darkness which descended like a night that would never end. A cold and bitter shadow that swallowed up all that treaded in it's path. What Marc felt was the encroachment of absolute horror. The manifestation of something, too ghastly to be real...and the shock induced, when it's existence was confirmed. A monster had just crept among them, and unlike the Wolf, he did not bother with the guise of a sheep. It stepped towards the flock with a purpose. Filling the world with it's sinister aura. Proudly smirking, in celebration of it's inclusion in the suffering of those who met it. This was the presence...the plague...that is known as Primera. This was, "Adalo."

Spoken as though the word had been wrung from his neck. The air and sound squeezed out like pulp from a fruit, or the life of a victim. It was painful to say, dreaded even. The venerable Mask made his knowledge clear; he knew the identity of their guest. Or was it host? At this point in the dream, who could really claim to be the vision and who the sleeper? What good did it do to know. For even if this were a dream, it just became a nightmare. And even nightmares that contain Adalo can be deadly. Thus, the crumbled figure of the kinder Hollow suddenly quit it's shaking. All indications of exhaustion faded, now that true terror had petrified his form. But while the body remained motionless...the mind danced a frantic show of uncertainty and doubt. Had anyone else the ability to see such things...it would have been quite the spectacle. See, there was a lot more for the Fraccion to think on now. Stories and warnings he had been issued about the "Most Fit". This thing was as much a Hollow, as he was a man. He was capable of things which made their kind shudder. He turned instinctual killers into simpering heaps of filth. Both figuratively and literally. As much as the spiritually aware communities love to share scary, cautionary tales of the Segunda...the same souls would not even speak this one's name. He was like the boogeyman; everyone just wanted to forget he still exists.

Seeing him for the first time...like this, was not what Marcelius had planned for. Because of the unexpected circumstance, he was in no way prepared. Every safeguard he had hoped to keep for his thoughts, unavailable. As soon as his eyes turned onto the apparition, he was lost. His sixth sense took command, dissolving away the other senses within his reality. Suddenly the world was melting, no longer a crispy field of havoc...just an ever growing dimension of blackened abyss. This is what it was like to stare into the very soul of the monster, Adalo. It was like Kuroi all over again, except, unrestrained. Where one could just feel the evil with that murderous Espada, it was impossible to recognize the source. But the Primera, his mind and spirit were laid bare. All who dare look, all of those like Marc, were immediately displaced within the chaos. He could see them all, every individual who inhabited the collage known as Adalo. Every weeping, thrashing, suffocating, howling soul. They formed a collective mass of tragedy and misfortune, eager to take hold of the unwary passerby...and drag them down into the bitter horde. An incarnation of strife, the very avatar of brutal vengeance. Looking into the cluttered, angry mob...Marcelius felt the very life dissipate from him. A terrible discovery had been made.

"I...identical..." The muttered word was little more than a whisper. Within his muted vocals, despite the vibrancy of his usual feelings, there was nothing. What could cause this sudden stoicism? How could he have gone from such total panic to this? And what was that word about? Was the fear so overwhelming that it drove him to insanity? The answers were far more complex than mere emotions. None, save for him, could know them. To what the ancient Hollow referred, was invisible to all but he. It was a vision that required sight beyond sight. (Thunderkats!) A secret within their auras, and how they appeared. The reality of, not only Adalo’s grotesque soul, but his own. The black tendrils of the Espada's aura spread out into the land, engulfing it in their breadth. Within the shifting pressure, Marc could see all the souls which formed this oddity of a Hollow. They appeared as a blackened cadre of broken, twisted bodies. Each of them nearly crushed into the others at their side. All seamlessly melded together. Why? Because they had all been consumed and made part of the grand design that is the “Most Fit”. Nothing more than untold numbers of lives and minds, all forced into one body. A throng of vicious souls all clamouring to be heard. It was upsetting beyond all possible description to see. The sight was a masterpiece of tragedy and woe, and the sound of it was a concerto of equal quality. Yet...experiencing this was not the worst of it for Marcelius.

Oh no no. What was truly the most abhorrent aspect of encountering such a soul...was the similarity. For at every boundary of his own spiritual pressure; which now waned under the stress and languor, one horde met the other. His horde. Rather than appear as two separate tapestries, mingling at the edges...they appeared as one great work, with not but a wrinkle between them. Where the corpses were barely indistinguishable in the Primera’s shadowy aura, Marc’s possessed far more personality. Despite this fact, the two collections of consumed behaved just the same...permanently roiling in their squalor. To see this commonality, to finally know the worst; that is what made the old scarecrow as he was. Having heard such salacious tales of this Grendel, and now to see the striking likeness…”He does not shut them out, like all the rest. I wonder if he hears them as a chorus...too.” Theses questions, so long had he waited to ask them. All this time he spent hoping and wishing that one day he would have reason too. Now that day has come, and it only troubled him more than before.

”Run...take them and run.” Between wheezing breaths and desperate attempts to not cough or otherwise sound shaky; the Hollow begged the Reaper once again. His voice wished to sound stern, the sort of tone one would expect from their parent. That special way of speaking, which triggers something deep within us all...that activates our instinct to trust. Just like animals, which know to heed the same call of a steady voice, so too should it work on the baser instincts of people. All children are born with it, and none are ever rid of it. Unfortunately, the state of his health prevented him from being so steady or convincing. This time, there was a great chance for it to fail...that the Shinigami would take his suggestion. If such was the case, then it was already done. If this chance was not taken, then the end was already writ.

Marcelius observed as his own nation of voices became slowly overtaken by Adalo’s. Those raging souls, more riot than conclave at this point. This is how he interpreted the vast strength of the Primera’s pressure, over his own enervated one. Though...it worked well to describe the situation at hand. Would the Death God not save himself and the two innocents, Uzimaki and the young woman? Or would he throw away what little chance they had left, claiming something foolish…”I could not outrun this Arrancar; the rational choice is to fight now, rather than after the escape has failed.” As if there would even be a fight...


Remaining Reiatsu - 260/1200

[Zeich Yajuu]

As the girl was handed off to him, and Marcelius moved to work in tandem with Uzumaki in their bid to destroy the dark woods that threatened the World of the Living, Zeich frowned, watching the Arrancar walk away. There was something strange about that one; despite being formed from a Hollow, a creature that was nothing more than a soul filled with hatred and anguish that served only to consume other souls, Marcelius was... well, the best Zeich could compare it to was to call the man “normal,” as he would see a human. Which, for an Arrancar, was an extreme statement; many of them were as bloodthirsty as their unevolved forms, and though they were not always as mindlessly violent after taking on a hybrid form, blood flowed freely around such creatures. Yet Zeich could not sense this desire for battle from his temporary ally, could not sense hostility or hatred that usually hovered about such dark beings in a cloud of negativity. Instead, he sensed... weariness, maybe acceptance? What a strange figure Marcelius was, enough to make even the stoic Shinigami give him a second glance.

But for now, there were more important things to continue. Even as he felt the Reiatsu starting to build up, Zeich moved behind the linked pair and summoned Haiiro's ash around himself and the girl that he was safeguarding, creating a semi-solid wall to protect them from the blast. Being ash, its overall effect was limited, but its suppressive abilities would reduce the overall shockwave to a minor extent. To further protect the girl in his care, the Third Seat turned his back to the targeted area, using his body as another layer of defense. Though he may not have liked Arrancar, Zeich could respect Marcelius's request to protect the girl. Why the Arrancar wanted to protect her was behind the Shinigami's comprehension, but their desire was unified for the moment, and so Zeich did his best to provide his ward's safety.

Needless to say, Uzumaki's ability was proven impressive as a pair of Cero razed the area before the linked pair, the forest eliminated and the trees wiped from existence. The portals were gone, but so was everything else that had been in the path of the Cero. There was nothing, just desolation, an empty wasteland that had been scorched and decimated by the combined attack. Zeich let out a sigh of relief as the immediate threat was removed; though it had come at great cost, the lives of the innocents within the World of the Living had been worth the price. The destruction was worth the many millions that had been saved, though they would never know their danger. The Third Seat moved to attend to the two whose efforts had stopped the invasion, their exhaustion from the combined assault very obvious to his eyes.

Darkness. Darkness washed over the area suddenly, a feeling of intense, corrupt... presence in the air. Silence reigned, but that silence was intense, overpowering; forced, the silence seemed to crush the energy out of each of them, keeping Uzumaki from rising in addition to his injuries. The girl in Zeich's arms had even stopped whimpering in her fear, the sounds trampled by the sudden silence that had fallen over the area. The Third Seat lowered her gently to the ground, the heat-blazed grass dry and brittle beneath her form, and then reformed his ashen sword as he stepped forward, standing before Uzumaki and Marcelius. Though he had no love for Arrancar, their companion had at least earned this momentary reprieve; he had done right in assisting the Shinigami in their protection of the living world. In that, he too had earned this moment of protection, of a Shinigami standing before him, sword in hand and ready to repel the threat they all felt rising around them.

Zeich heard the words spoken in the air, if one could say they were spoken; rather, it was as though they were thoughts, bubbling up to the surface of his mind. Unlike the others, however, he heard two voices, both dark and dripping with their own malice. One was the voice that all present would hear, mocking the ideals of Shinigami, criticizing their views of right and wrong. But the other was a personal voice, one that Zeich himself knew by heart now. The Shadow within his soul, the dark being whose personality was no different than that of the Hollows that the Shinigami mistrusted and loathed. The Shadow's voice seemed to follow in the footsteps of the first, two voices whispering their darkness in Zeich's soul.

If not, then where do you draw the line? At what point are we monsters and are we not monsters? Look at you.

Look at you. Do you see the blood on your hands, monster? Do you see the countless hordes you have slain in the name of your justice? Do you remember the exhilaration as your blade sliced through limbs, cut into bodies, tore through masks?

Shut up...

You have to keep pretending, don't you?

You pretend, and pretend. You hide behind that cold mask, you show the world nothing, yet hide your darkness within... you hide me, and pretend that I'm not here.

That's enough...!

You and I are the same.

You and I are the same.

Zeich's mouth opened to scream the words that rang in his head, the denial of his similarities to the dark creatures whispering in his ears, yet the silence swallowed even his cry, leaving nothing but twin peals of laughter filling his ears. He wasn't even aware of the shadows speaking around them, the twin voices drowning out their words, the introduction of their host. Zeich barely acknowledged the shift in atmosphere as he fought to keep on his feet, the Shadow's laughter echoing louder as the air grew more intense, the chaos swirled up around them as the sense of evil around them began to coalesce, taking on a solid form before the small group. As the being before them took shape, became more defined, it drew the Shadow's presence more, one darkness feeding the other, intensifying it. Zeich swore he could feel the creature's dark claws starting to sink into his body, could feel the Shadow's eyes just behind him.

The name barely registered. Zeich's eyes rose to meet the figure, yet they had a glassy look to them, unfocused and distant. The sclera of one eye was starting to fade to a darker color, a hint of black tendrils tinting the white, as sure as shadow was beginning to swallow the light. Marcelius would feel the resurgence of his “brethren” within Zeich, the bloodlust, hatred, and desire for destruction becoming more prominent, yet it was strange; rather than one overtaking the other, a constant battle for control, it was as though the two were standing separately, the dark one shadowing Zeich, mirroring his actions. For the first time, they were not at war; Zeich, lost in his fear, was not fighting, and the Shadow paused, in awe of the creature that appeared before them.

Adalo De-Mona. The Primera Espada. Zeich had not seen the man previous to this moment, had only heard of him in reports and rumors. Rumors were inaccurate, unable to live up to the monster that stood in front of the Shinigami; though his appearance was simple, something about the gaze, the twisted smile, the sheer presence of the man nearly drove Zeich to his knees. And yet Adalo had done nothing but grin; what was it that left the Shinigami ready to collapse? Logic escaped Zeich, lost in a dark abyss of fear. He wasn't even sure what he was afraid of; he could feel the Shadow wrapping about him like a mantle of darkness, those claws reaching for his throat, the evil of it beginning to percolate through his body. Yet the evil before him seemed to surpass that which sought to possess him, simply by existing. The Shadow was hatred, was violence; yet despite that, it paled to Adalo De-Mona, who simply grinned.

“Run...”

The word suddenly awoke the Shinigami, who until that moment had been lost in that half-daze of fear and shock, unable to act in his indecision and intimidation. The black tendrils vanished from Zeich's eye, the sense of a darkening aura suddenly suppressed once more as the Third Seat snapped back into reality. Haiiro's blade, which had been left to dissolve as Zeich's concentration had faltered, was now reformed in the Shinigami's hand and held at a ready stance. Training and reflex took hold, pushing aside the fear that refused to let loose its grip on Zeich's heart; though the terror was there, an almost painful knot of it in the Third Seat's heart, he managed to push it aside to stare the darkness in the face, his amber eyes meeting that ice-blue gaze for but a moment, connecting them for the barest fraction of a sentence.

Zeich looked away, unable to stare into those frozen depths. He focused on Adalo's throat, his eyes meeting the place he would aim to cut. It was far easier to stare at a target than to drown in the Primera's icy gaze, and it allowed the Shinigami to slowly rebuild his composure, to bury the dark Shadow beneath the neutral mask again. “Marcelius.” That alone would be enough to give the other Arrancar pause; until this moment, Zeich had never once addressed him by name, seeing him as a monster, a creature unworthy of a name. The Third Seat's voice was unwavering, for that moment, as he continued to stand with his weapon ready, determination in his voice.

“...If you want to protect them, to see them safe, you'll have to stand and do it yourself. You'll have to get them away. Uzumaki's too spent after that attack, and I doubt the girl can even stand. So it's up to you to get them out of here.” Ice. His voice was ice, emotion frozen beneath a solid surface. There was no humor in his tone, yet beneath the mask, the hint of a smile lurked. It was a resigned, sad smile, however; Zeich had excluded himself from the list of those able to aid those injured for a reason. As the only one unharmed after all was said and done, he was also the only one who could do what needed to be done to allow the others to escape. It was an unspoken decision, but one that was not hard to recognize.

Zeich Yajuu, Third Seat of Squad Seven, planned to face the Primera Espada, the strongest of all Arrancar, all by himself. It was suicide. It was plain and simple sacrifice; there was no guarantee that he'd be able to even hold the monster back for a second, no guarantee that his efforts would not be in vain. The Segunda Esapda, the Arrancar below Adalo, had been the cause of much of Seireitei's destruction and troubles in the past, yet according to their rank, his power would pale compared to the Primera's. Despite this, Zeich stood firm, his blade leveled. Though he could not meet Adalo's eyes, could not bring himself to fall into those frozen pools of ice again, the Shinigami stood ready to attack.

At the precipice of death, however, he felt so alive. “Now go!”

Even as he gave what he expected to be his last command, Zeich lashed out. The remainder of his ash, which had been floating around him this whole time, suddenly blasted forward, enveloping the Primera if he did not avoid it. Adalo would find dark gray bindings twisting around his torso, binding his arms behind his back and tightening enough to dig into the skin, while a similar set of wrappings would bind the Arrancar's legs. The two sets of bandages were from Haiiro Gokusha, the gray prison that Zeich used to suppress movement. Not only would they bind Adalo's motions, but they would drain out his Reiatsu quickly, forcing him to use more Reiatsu to accomplish anything. This was, of course, assuming that they held.

“Run while you can, Marcelius. Get them out of here. You're the only one who can.”


Remaining Reiatsu: 1600/2500 (-100 for Haiiro Ken x2, -300 for Haiiro Gokusha x2)

Shikai: 3/10

Ash: 1/5 for Haiiro Ken, 4/5 for Haiiro Gokusha

[Kashmir De-Mona]

SPOILER: Click to show

{The music}

"Oh shut up..." Adalo said as his first words to anyone and stopped grinning. "If I wanted to catch you, you wouldn't be able to escape me. Just sit still and wait until I'm done." Badum bum badum bum badum bum badum bum. What was that violent shaking? Was it a heart? Was it a heart, and was it belonging to someone else? Was it belonging to someone else, or to Zeich or to Marcelius? Was it a heart, or just the ticking of an endless clock? It rang in their ears and chests, but was it theirs? Was it theirs, or did it belong to the world around them? What was it, that all of this had come from it? The Primera looked around and his eyes glanced at everyone present. The Primera looked around, and with his eyes glancing at everyone present, he took a deep breath as if appraising the situation. As if appraising the situation, Adalo grinned again. Adalo grinned again only to add to the intense atmosphere of the horror and the rest.

"YOU'RE TRAPPED HEEERRREEEE!!!!" light shadow yelled gleefully. Spontaneously, the girl coughed and came forth from her trance. She coughed and came forth from her trance, and she began to cry and scream once more. "NO! HE'S BACK...NO NO NO. NOT THE SPIDERWEB. NOT THE SPIDERWEB, PLEASE!!!!" She started kicking and screaming, then looked up at he who held her and their eyes met, one blank and one blankening. "I...it's a trap...He created all of this to lure people here...." The spiderweb. Adalo's true intentions. Adalo's true intentions, which were to use this place he had created, this trap, to lure curious people with darkness in their hearts, so that he could to do them as he pleased, whatever it was that he was truly desiring as one of his ultimate goals. It was a hobby. It was an experiment. It was part of why they considered him 'Most Fit.' Most Fit? HAHAHAHA! I'm just ahead of the curve...I just know how to play a little bit...

"You will be his...." dark shadow said. "FORREEEVVERRRRR!" light shadow said. Adalo looked around and approached the girl carefully. Adalo looked around, and he walked to her and looked at her and spoke. He walked to her and spoke, and he said, "Mommy...it's Teddy....Mommy, where are you?" But his voice was not his own. His voice was not his own, was not the soft purr that it had been when he first arrived, or the menacing violin which it resembled. It was a young child's voice. It was a young child's voice which came from Adalo's mouth, that of a young boy when he spoke. "Mommy...don't you love me?" And the girl started screaming and screaming and screaming. As if all stood still and there was only immobility because of Adalo's presence, he touched the girl's face, and he whispered to her, "Shhhhh...." in his own voice. In his own voice, he spoke again as well. "No pain..." Adalo said. "No suffering....No light....."

Then as he touched her, her skin started to turn gray and black reiatsu started to surround her. Black reiatsu started to surround her, and her skin started to wrinkle and gray. It became sunken. It became sunken, and raisin. It became sunken, and raisin, and wrinkled, and started to sag. Then it started to tighten. It started to tighten, and resemble the skin of a rhinoceros, rather like leather. Rather like leather, it began to tighten, and then her mouth started to distort into an enormous smile. And then her mouth began to distort into an enormous smile, and seams started to appear and sew into the corners of her lips to make a bigger crescent, and to hold her smile up in place. And her smile widened, and her eyes turned black. "Can't you hear the music...?" Adalo asked. "Of all their souls? Can't you hear the darkness beckoning? The symphony...of death...?" And the girl nodded.

Adalo walked over to light shadow, and swiped his hand through. Adalo swiped his hand through light shadow, and light shadow turned into light smoke. There was smoke, and in light shadow's place stood a boy. In light shadow's place stood a boy of seven years old with a teddy bear in one hand and pajamas as his clothes. A young boy who was crying and who was innocent, and who wanted his "Mommy...." The young girl left her savior's arms and started to walk to her boy. She started to hug him, and stroke the back of his head and stare at Adalo with her demented smile. The young boy did not question it. The young boy did not question it, and he never questioned it. And then the young girl grabbed her son's head, and she snapped his neck. She snapped his neck, and Adalo burst into laughter and grins. Adalo burst into laughter and grins until these too ceased, and he looked at his guests in their eyes, like Zeich and Marcelius, and the immobility of the moment disappeared, and all of them could move after adjusting to the horren atmosphere. And Adalo said only one thing to start them off.

"Now is the time if you want to RUN...."