Post by Marcelius on Dec 1, 2013 10:10:38 GMT -5
(OoC: This thread is for the training and mastery of Temblar Bala. It is a solo thread, exclusive for Marcelius Despres. Also...someone making an Arrancar should toooootally use this as a history fluffer. Have Papa Marc save your ass in the depths of Hollow Hell...which is significantly nicer than real Hell, for some reason...)
In his great age, killing has become one of the least tasteful things Marc can consider. Unlike other pacifists who see no purpose in taking a life, this Arrancar can see it very clearly. There is not a Hollow alive, who does not owe their entire existence to all the lives they have taken. To become strong within his race, death and slaughter are necessities. Iit may be possible for his kind to mature past the desire to kill...but they can never forget it’s usefulness. Still, more than most others, Marcelius is willing to take the necessary steps to prevent unnecessary loss of life. Restraining himself, ignoring critical weaknesses...there were all kinds of ways for him to endanger himself for the safety of his prey. Sadly, this method was not viable. For Marcelius far from immortal...nor invincible.
His tactics of self sacrifice only served to hamper him, and endanger those he felt he needed to protect. Yet, despite these harsh truths, nothing could shake his pledge to not take lives. Something would have to be done. A new way of betting his foes, a new means of challenging them. Long thought and speculation was spent, hoping for a solution. Being a Hollow, once more, proved the challenge. Despite the time and effort spent...his thoughts could only imagine death and carnage. Try as he might, it was his nature to maim and destroy. Something would have to change, either in him...or his perspective, before any hope of success could be glimpsed. As fate would have it...another project of Marc's would supply him with new possibilities. New doors always opening, or so the saying goes.
It had barely been a week since Marcelius began studying the behavior of spiritual waves. Research had produced fruit for the old Arrancar, which came in the form of a specialized new Bala. The Mermar, a bullet which could disrupt the spiritual flow of reiatsu. Truly, he had reason to be pleased with himself and the new techniques development, and yet something tormented him. Concern had taken hold of him, and now most waking moments dwelled on thoughts of spiritual splashes. Splashes, as Marcelius saw them, were events which triggered spiritual waves. Just like ripples in a pond which becomes disturbed, the world's abundance of reiatsu begins to shiver each time pressure is exerted into it. THere simply had to be more uses for this knowledge. Marcelius could feel it in his very bones...and so inspiration came to him, from the bones.
Quite literally. When contemplating the weaknesses shared by all foes, bones seemed to leap to mind. Perhaps it was his mentality as an Arrancar, to target that which is most painfully broken. Regardless of the Muse's intent, he had a new focus to follow. Bone,s which make up the structure of most beings, stuck out among the physical features. Being comprised of denser materials, less malleable matierals, the skeletal system seems a perfect target. With a broken bone, it was no secret, combat becomes exceedingly challenging. Mending a bone takes time, and even the most gifted of spiritual healers, required unbroken concentration to mend them. Even if the damage were minimal, in the form of cracking or tiny fractures, the pain could be substantial. The more he considered the support beams of the body as his objective, the more confident he became on his new technique.
Progress would be difficult...even with a clear idea in mind. What he wished to achieve was unheard of to Las Noches. Not the concept of breaking bones, but the method by which he wished to attack them. Cero, the Hollow's trademark. An ability which allows even barely evolved Hollows, to concentrate their raw spiritual power into a deadly blast. Pure, guided energy...that was more or less the thoughts on Cero. Marcelius always saw more however. Early in his arrival to Las Noches, he fond himself experimenting with fundamental Cero. Back then his objective had been much the same, except his motivations were different. Orginially, Marc wanted to extended his manipulation of emotions...through a Cero medium.
Though his trial and error had proven a success, granting him a deeper understanding of Ceros' composition...it did not assist him now. What he was attempting with his new, nonleathal response, was a Cero which could harm...but not kill. Without possessing leathality, the attack still required enough force to hinder his foes. He required enough energy to harm, while needing to restrict the destructive force. This is where the spiritual waves research took over. Using discoveries made while constructing Mermar Bala, Marc hoped to produce more aggressive spiritual waves. Ripples in reiatsu which could do harm, without eradicating the target. Again, it sounded so simple to say what needed to be achieved. If no technique could come from his labors, then maybe a lesson on proper goal setting? Hmmm, little victories...take them when you can.
Information, yes, that is what he needed first. To see more powerful spiritual assaults, so that he might examine the ripples which they create. His own reiatsu density was quite weak, which produced less noticable effects on the environment. What he needed was large displays of spiritual density and might. To witness large spiritual pressure shifts, well...there were only a few circumstances which created such events. The thoughts came to him, on how he might observe the necessary levels of reiatsu activity, were quite unpleasant. Either he find a specialist who had honed their knowledge and co trol over reiatsu...or, dare to ask an Espada for help. Being the strongest beings in all of Las Noches, it was without question that one of them could help him.
The willingness of a Lord to entertain the questions and requests of a servant was highly unlikely. Still, if it mean the difference between a success and failure, the option should not be discredited. Though the more he considered the Espada who had the unique talents to be of assistance, the less enthused he became. To his knowledge, only three had adequate talent. The Segunda, the Tercera, and the Septima. The rest of them, and their abilities, were either unknown or did not match his requirements. So, he wasted the first great portion of his research weighing the odds of assistance coming from any of the three he had chosen. One was surely too busy, the other was unlikely to care, and the final...Marc was under the impression she did not like him. So, back to square one. How frustrating such hold up can be; and all because of his own failings. The day had been going so well...and now the Chorus began.
Slinking through the hallways of Las Noches, Marcelius was eager to immersem himself in the noisiness of his home. Wanting to hear all the minds and souls, filling the world with their sound. It was the best he could do, to try and drown out today's introspective episode. The Choir was not letting up on him, tearing at the insecurities he shares with most Hollows...of weakness and defeat. Being out of his room, pushing himself to find the crowds and gatherings, he hoped to find soklace. Maybe he would hear the inspiring thoughts of some young Arrancar wishing to become an Espada. It was not uncommon to hear such dreams, but they were often arrogant and false. But to hear a soul truly crave improvement and success...and to push hard for it, now that was beautiful music.
So he wandered. Using the exercise of his legs to break up his anxieties, and the words of others to drown out his cares. Maybe he could soothe himself back into a good day? Maybe, just maybe, he could calm his mind enough to focus once more on his technique. After all, breakthroughs would not come to those unable to listen for them. Hardly Sage's wisdom, but good advice nonetheless. So good was the advice, that it's rewards came almost immediately. A clamour, loud enough that his skin could feel it, came echoing through the floor and the walls. A disturbance so potent, that it caught the attention of other Arrancar near him. The entire passageway was filled with curious faces, darting around for answers. Though they felt the disruption, Marc seemed to be the only one with knowledge on what it was. Coming from far below, it was the sensation of a shattering mask...one of natural occurance.
The event was occurring several hundreds of floors beneath, at the base of the Privarion levels. Had Marcelius resigned to stay in his room upon the Espada level, he may have missed this grand opportunity. It was not common, even here...in the cradle of Arrancar life, for Hollows to shatter their mask of their own accord. More times than naught, it was an event which had to be triggered by the King himself. So rare was this happening, that Marc would surely not be the only interested party. Indeed, he could already sense dozens of spirits becoming far more active. They were alive with wonder and anticipation, and just like the old man, they were all making their way towards the lower floors. Unlike their elder, they did not carry with them the same apprehension.
By heading into the bowels of Las Noches, Marcelius moved himself into range of all the Hollows who fought for their lives in the "Stockyard". Hundreds of floors devoted to carnage and cannibalism. Being near such a place, was a for of psychological torture for Marc. It was the birth of a natural Arrancar within Las Noches which condemned him to suffer for knowledge. Oh, but how dreadful it could be. The images that leaked from those unfortunate Hollows were of blood, bile, pain, and terror. The horrid feelings did not flow to him from just the dying Masks, but from the victors as well. Even as Marcelius peeked into the emotions of the survivors, he saw how they tore and ripped the flesh of their prey. It was...familiar, even though his last memories of such acts were now thousands of years old.
Where time should have faded the images, they remained as fresh as his last notion. Every visceral detail and repugnant satisfaction. With each passing flight of stairs, his steps grew heavier. At first he thought it to be the work of the Choir. They had been torturing him all morning, after all...it must be their doing. It took time for him to come to his senses, and feel the real culprit behind the weight. All around him, particles of reiatsu were being crushed downward. The sensation, was gravity pressure...an odd phenomena caused be tremendous gatherings of spiritual pressure. Like a black hole, it's great weight seemed to draw in and bend all the reality around it. This particular event, this momentous new birth, was already beginning to take it's toll on Las Noches.
As Marc straightened himself, determined to push through the heft of the air...inspiration finally found him. His bones, they hurt. The pain as would be expected from great weight resting on supports. His muscles and skeleton struggled against the oppression of the new soul. What intrigued him about this most typical of occurance...was something he had been hoping to discover. His bones were not simply stressed by the pressure...they were moved by it. With every step he took, moving closer to the power's source, he could feel the energy passing through him...vibrating the solid formations within his body. The density of his bones, were proving a perfect receptor for spiritual frequencies. Like calcified tuning forks, speak all throughout his body. Here it was...his hypothesis in action. The joy it gathered from being correct, was enough to put a skip in his step. Though...he would never do something as childish as skipping; the sentiment was still implied. Pretty soon, he was hurrying on his way once more.
A sight to behold, for sure. A large room, darkened by the absense of lighting or exposure to the outside world. It was massive, measuring hundreds of meters in every direction. To see to it's bottom was challenging, as shadows quickly took claim of all visible detail. Marcelius himself, was not in this room persay. Instead, high above the floor, the Fraccion stood in a glass walled observation deck. From his vantage, he could inspect the contents of the open space beneath. What he saw, was a large massing of Hollows...or truly, the corpses of Hollows. They were piled, like a funeral mound...quiet and songless. They were not, however, the feature which held his focus.
No, the attraction was the small, writhing cocoon which laid atop the pile. This was the forming figure, of the newest addition to the Las Noches family...the source of the tremendous gravity. Inside the shaping body, no thoughts could be heard. Whatever mind resided within it, was too lost in the process of reformation to have ideas or ambitions. For once, Marcelius could observe life that was mysterious. For once, he felt like everyone else, unsure of what was to come. His eyes never left the developing soul, who's spiritual energy was a light amid the dark. Now that he could see the event in person, it called many facts into question.
Was it truly a joyous day, knowing that new life was coming into Las Noches? Was it somehow acceptable, the deaths of all those Hollows below, for the evolution of this one? Perhaps not to him...but the universe saw things differently. That is right, nature deemed this as acceptable and fitting. The strong survive, and this young one was the strongest. Clenching his fists rather tightly, Marc let out a deep sigh. His shoulder slouched, and his once chipper posture faded. How hard it was to simply accept such things. Being Remorse, he could not help but wonder what could have been...had the lives of Hollows been defined by different rules. What would his species be, if personal growth did not come from consuming their own? Might they be weaker, or might they be stronger. For now...that answer eluded him. Instead, all he had was evidence of such barbarism's triumph.
Another great shift, the reiatsu pressure suddenly thickening once again. It would not be long now, the process would soon be complete. Down below, the new Arrancar was beginning to take form. Claiming the new body that was owed. It was now, in the final moments, that the energies density would be the densest. Marc began to take not of the changes, recording them in his mental archives for future questions and theories. With this change however, a different thought pushed forward. Would this not be the best moment to observe the spiritual wave's effects? Indeed, this new soul was causing quite a dramatic change in the spiritual atmosphere.
The energies being stimulated by this birth, were comparable to the moment of Resurreccion. Even lowly Arrancar, who have yet attained their full potential, can generate quite a field of power with their release. Right now, in the midst of this mighty transformation, spiritual particles were descending like water...all thought the surrounding area. With his absurd connectivity with reiatsu, he could feel this more accurately than any other living soul. As the particles passed through him, a being comprised of densely packed spiritual particles, they pushed and interacted with him. It was harmless, something that happened naturally all the time. This was how being such as him accumulated reishi in order to use their powers, after all.
What he wanted to take not of, was the impact reiatsu had on bones. As before, he noticed that they seemed to vibrate and shake when under heavy influence from spiritual pressure. As fascinating as this was, his purposes necessitated that the bones were reacting like this, due to their density. Being formed of more closely piled particles, made them more responsive...more resistance to the flow. If this was the case...then he could easily devise a Cero to make use of this fact. Just like the Mermar, this new Cero would be built to pop instead of catastrophically exploding.
The energy would be more mute, less volatile. If the dense formations within spiritual beings could be shaken by sudden bursts of spiritual pressure...then he could devise a nonleathal reishi blast; which would only target the denser qualities of bone. Sure enough, as he observed the motion of pressure throughout his body...his skeleton began to sing. A song of accomplishment, now in it's second verse. What he had speculated in the stairwell, was now twice proven. In his mind, the Cero was already coming to life. Life...that is right, he was here for other reasons than research.
The time had come. New life was about to enter the kingdom, and join the ranks of Hueco Mundo. Stepping closer to the glass, Marcelius strained his eyes to try and see the formation clearly. What he saw was a swelling of light. This was the abundance of reiatsu being expelled all at once. How excited it had to become, in order to glow. The light was pleasing, the sign of life. The brilliance of the shine allowed for Marc to see more clearly through the shadows. Illumination, though helpful for the senior, was detrimental for the one below. Suddenly, Marcelius snapped free from the trance he had set himself into.
No longer singularly fixated on the newborn, he could sense all the other lives which occupied the nearby space. It seems, at some point while he was lost in daydreams, more Arrancar had come to occupy the observation room. Each of them spread out, eyeing the scene beyond the glass. Though it was a surprise for him, they were not Marcelius concern. What was truly alarming, were the Hollows which had arrived within the expansive chamber. Marc did not need to be a mind reader for this. Even the other observing Arrancar were wise to the plight. The Hollows had come for one reason; to taste this peculiar new soul. The chill of the glass set Marc's skin on edge, as he laid his hands on the transparent plane.
This reaction came from fear...fear for the Arrancar who was yet accustomed to it's body. From his sides he heard voices, barely audible through the screams inside his head. "Looks like someone rang the dinnerbell..." "Hah! That's fucking hysterical! Day one and done! Hahah!" "Mmm, that isn't true yet. Anything could happen." "Both of you should shut up, and be glad there isn't any new competition around here." "Hey, old timer, what are you doing?" Though the question was more curiosity than surprise...the mood of it's inquirer soon changed. With a loud crash, the glass pane burst into shards and dust. In a blur of speed, Marcelius departed from the observation deck.
Tearing through the air in a rupture of sound, his feet soon planted onto the mound of Mask cadavers. The pressure here, far more terrible than when it had been. His ears were practically popping under the weight. Still...it did not deter his focus. Approaching from every direction, were Hollows of various evolutions. Each wefre hungry, and all of them wanted the power this natural Arrancar had. Marc was here to see too it...they did not get it. At first the Masks were hesitant, unsure if they should approach the newcomer. Soon their confidence bolstered, under the tyranny of their Hunger. Unable to suppress their advance with gravity pressure, it would not be long before they reached the top of the pile. Biting at the core of his chest, was the ache of his Hollow's Hole.
Even now, in the thick of it, he could not bear the thought of killing his kind. How cruel, that even for chairty, his guilt would not ease up on him. Suppose this would be another one of those doors opening. Yes, surely. That is what Marc had to tell himself, in order to attempt what he had conjured up. In a few moments more, his reiatsu began to build. Within his hand, he began to form a Cero. As he did so, one of the Hollows made a leap for their position. With the Cero not yet prepared, Marc was forced to swat the body away. Lucky for him, the nimble ones were so light. Regardless, a flaw had come to light in this more dark situation. Before he could rationalize it, another Hungry One came charging up the mound. Holding out his hand once more...Marcelius opted for a Bala.
So stupid. Why did he not realize it before. Not a Cero, but a Bala. Less energy, more compact. It was a far better vessel to support his new technique. Saving the self deprecation for later, Marc hurried to alter the energy in his hand. The charging body was big, and bulky. It had clawed its way up, and now threatened to trample Marc from the front. Too late had the inspiration come, for when he was forced to fire his attack, it behaved as a normal Bala might. Striking an outstretched arm, it fortunately spared the starving brute a painful death. Collapsing back down the hill, that contender was out of the fight. More were still coming however, and Marc could not guarantee they would all be hit in the arm. No time to bother, he prepared a second Bala.
Without hesitation, he altered it to be more like Mermar. A vacuum in the middle, the perfect design for a 'pop'. Dispersing this groups reiatsu would prove helpful however, so more changes were needed. As another sought to scale the summit, the old man suddenly poured more energy into the formed attack. Desperate to increase the outer layer's density, Marc prayed it would cause a more meaningfull impact against his tagert body. No time to do the math, he chucked the bullet straight at the victim's legs. With a hardy clap of a noise, the creature dropped to a knee. Having slipped and displaced it's balance, the large body began tumbling backwards. As far as Marc could tell...it was success.
Immediately he began launching more of newfound barrage. With each hit, another Hollow dropped. Even through the dark he could see them limping away, limbs either broken or numb. Then, his spine lit up with a terrible shock. Turning quickly, he saw that her had missed a more crafty one. It had descended upon them from the roof, and was set to drag the new Arrancar away from his protection. Without time to debate, Marcelius fired another shot where he had the best chance to hit. The energy sailed in an instant, and cracked against the beast's mask. In an instant, a tremendous fissure spread along the great white face.
There after, the large Hollow tumbled over and flopped down and away. Marcelius could hear music, but it had been made quite faint. As far as he could tell, the soul was still alive...its senses knocked out of balance. With that, the last of the assailants had been removed. The rest who were well enough to act, chose not to. Seems this new technique was exactly what Marcelius had been hoping for. More importantly, it did what he needed it too...save a life, without taking others. With the danger subverted, Marcelius took ahold of the newest member of the family. With a warm smile, and a calm voice which betrayed his recent worry, "Welcome home...let's get you some better food."
In his great age, killing has become one of the least tasteful things Marc can consider. Unlike other pacifists who see no purpose in taking a life, this Arrancar can see it very clearly. There is not a Hollow alive, who does not owe their entire existence to all the lives they have taken. To become strong within his race, death and slaughter are necessities. Iit may be possible for his kind to mature past the desire to kill...but they can never forget it’s usefulness. Still, more than most others, Marcelius is willing to take the necessary steps to prevent unnecessary loss of life. Restraining himself, ignoring critical weaknesses...there were all kinds of ways for him to endanger himself for the safety of his prey. Sadly, this method was not viable. For Marcelius far from immortal...nor invincible.
His tactics of self sacrifice only served to hamper him, and endanger those he felt he needed to protect. Yet, despite these harsh truths, nothing could shake his pledge to not take lives. Something would have to be done. A new way of betting his foes, a new means of challenging them. Long thought and speculation was spent, hoping for a solution. Being a Hollow, once more, proved the challenge. Despite the time and effort spent...his thoughts could only imagine death and carnage. Try as he might, it was his nature to maim and destroy. Something would have to change, either in him...or his perspective, before any hope of success could be glimpsed. As fate would have it...another project of Marc's would supply him with new possibilities. New doors always opening, or so the saying goes.
It had barely been a week since Marcelius began studying the behavior of spiritual waves. Research had produced fruit for the old Arrancar, which came in the form of a specialized new Bala. The Mermar, a bullet which could disrupt the spiritual flow of reiatsu. Truly, he had reason to be pleased with himself and the new techniques development, and yet something tormented him. Concern had taken hold of him, and now most waking moments dwelled on thoughts of spiritual splashes. Splashes, as Marcelius saw them, were events which triggered spiritual waves. Just like ripples in a pond which becomes disturbed, the world's abundance of reiatsu begins to shiver each time pressure is exerted into it. THere simply had to be more uses for this knowledge. Marcelius could feel it in his very bones...and so inspiration came to him, from the bones.
Quite literally. When contemplating the weaknesses shared by all foes, bones seemed to leap to mind. Perhaps it was his mentality as an Arrancar, to target that which is most painfully broken. Regardless of the Muse's intent, he had a new focus to follow. Bone,s which make up the structure of most beings, stuck out among the physical features. Being comprised of denser materials, less malleable matierals, the skeletal system seems a perfect target. With a broken bone, it was no secret, combat becomes exceedingly challenging. Mending a bone takes time, and even the most gifted of spiritual healers, required unbroken concentration to mend them. Even if the damage were minimal, in the form of cracking or tiny fractures, the pain could be substantial. The more he considered the support beams of the body as his objective, the more confident he became on his new technique.
Progress would be difficult...even with a clear idea in mind. What he wished to achieve was unheard of to Las Noches. Not the concept of breaking bones, but the method by which he wished to attack them. Cero, the Hollow's trademark. An ability which allows even barely evolved Hollows, to concentrate their raw spiritual power into a deadly blast. Pure, guided energy...that was more or less the thoughts on Cero. Marcelius always saw more however. Early in his arrival to Las Noches, he fond himself experimenting with fundamental Cero. Back then his objective had been much the same, except his motivations were different. Orginially, Marc wanted to extended his manipulation of emotions...through a Cero medium.
Though his trial and error had proven a success, granting him a deeper understanding of Ceros' composition...it did not assist him now. What he was attempting with his new, nonleathal response, was a Cero which could harm...but not kill. Without possessing leathality, the attack still required enough force to hinder his foes. He required enough energy to harm, while needing to restrict the destructive force. This is where the spiritual waves research took over. Using discoveries made while constructing Mermar Bala, Marc hoped to produce more aggressive spiritual waves. Ripples in reiatsu which could do harm, without eradicating the target. Again, it sounded so simple to say what needed to be achieved. If no technique could come from his labors, then maybe a lesson on proper goal setting? Hmmm, little victories...take them when you can.
Information, yes, that is what he needed first. To see more powerful spiritual assaults, so that he might examine the ripples which they create. His own reiatsu density was quite weak, which produced less noticable effects on the environment. What he needed was large displays of spiritual density and might. To witness large spiritual pressure shifts, well...there were only a few circumstances which created such events. The thoughts came to him, on how he might observe the necessary levels of reiatsu activity, were quite unpleasant. Either he find a specialist who had honed their knowledge and co trol over reiatsu...or, dare to ask an Espada for help. Being the strongest beings in all of Las Noches, it was without question that one of them could help him.
The willingness of a Lord to entertain the questions and requests of a servant was highly unlikely. Still, if it mean the difference between a success and failure, the option should not be discredited. Though the more he considered the Espada who had the unique talents to be of assistance, the less enthused he became. To his knowledge, only three had adequate talent. The Segunda, the Tercera, and the Septima. The rest of them, and their abilities, were either unknown or did not match his requirements. So, he wasted the first great portion of his research weighing the odds of assistance coming from any of the three he had chosen. One was surely too busy, the other was unlikely to care, and the final...Marc was under the impression she did not like him. So, back to square one. How frustrating such hold up can be; and all because of his own failings. The day had been going so well...and now the Chorus began.
Slinking through the hallways of Las Noches, Marcelius was eager to immersem himself in the noisiness of his home. Wanting to hear all the minds and souls, filling the world with their sound. It was the best he could do, to try and drown out today's introspective episode. The Choir was not letting up on him, tearing at the insecurities he shares with most Hollows...of weakness and defeat. Being out of his room, pushing himself to find the crowds and gatherings, he hoped to find soklace. Maybe he would hear the inspiring thoughts of some young Arrancar wishing to become an Espada. It was not uncommon to hear such dreams, but they were often arrogant and false. But to hear a soul truly crave improvement and success...and to push hard for it, now that was beautiful music.
So he wandered. Using the exercise of his legs to break up his anxieties, and the words of others to drown out his cares. Maybe he could soothe himself back into a good day? Maybe, just maybe, he could calm his mind enough to focus once more on his technique. After all, breakthroughs would not come to those unable to listen for them. Hardly Sage's wisdom, but good advice nonetheless. So good was the advice, that it's rewards came almost immediately. A clamour, loud enough that his skin could feel it, came echoing through the floor and the walls. A disturbance so potent, that it caught the attention of other Arrancar near him. The entire passageway was filled with curious faces, darting around for answers. Though they felt the disruption, Marc seemed to be the only one with knowledge on what it was. Coming from far below, it was the sensation of a shattering mask...one of natural occurance.
The event was occurring several hundreds of floors beneath, at the base of the Privarion levels. Had Marcelius resigned to stay in his room upon the Espada level, he may have missed this grand opportunity. It was not common, even here...in the cradle of Arrancar life, for Hollows to shatter their mask of their own accord. More times than naught, it was an event which had to be triggered by the King himself. So rare was this happening, that Marc would surely not be the only interested party. Indeed, he could already sense dozens of spirits becoming far more active. They were alive with wonder and anticipation, and just like the old man, they were all making their way towards the lower floors. Unlike their elder, they did not carry with them the same apprehension.
By heading into the bowels of Las Noches, Marcelius moved himself into range of all the Hollows who fought for their lives in the "Stockyard". Hundreds of floors devoted to carnage and cannibalism. Being near such a place, was a for of psychological torture for Marc. It was the birth of a natural Arrancar within Las Noches which condemned him to suffer for knowledge. Oh, but how dreadful it could be. The images that leaked from those unfortunate Hollows were of blood, bile, pain, and terror. The horrid feelings did not flow to him from just the dying Masks, but from the victors as well. Even as Marcelius peeked into the emotions of the survivors, he saw how they tore and ripped the flesh of their prey. It was...familiar, even though his last memories of such acts were now thousands of years old.
Where time should have faded the images, they remained as fresh as his last notion. Every visceral detail and repugnant satisfaction. With each passing flight of stairs, his steps grew heavier. At first he thought it to be the work of the Choir. They had been torturing him all morning, after all...it must be their doing. It took time for him to come to his senses, and feel the real culprit behind the weight. All around him, particles of reiatsu were being crushed downward. The sensation, was gravity pressure...an odd phenomena caused be tremendous gatherings of spiritual pressure. Like a black hole, it's great weight seemed to draw in and bend all the reality around it. This particular event, this momentous new birth, was already beginning to take it's toll on Las Noches.
As Marc straightened himself, determined to push through the heft of the air...inspiration finally found him. His bones, they hurt. The pain as would be expected from great weight resting on supports. His muscles and skeleton struggled against the oppression of the new soul. What intrigued him about this most typical of occurance...was something he had been hoping to discover. His bones were not simply stressed by the pressure...they were moved by it. With every step he took, moving closer to the power's source, he could feel the energy passing through him...vibrating the solid formations within his body. The density of his bones, were proving a perfect receptor for spiritual frequencies. Like calcified tuning forks, speak all throughout his body. Here it was...his hypothesis in action. The joy it gathered from being correct, was enough to put a skip in his step. Though...he would never do something as childish as skipping; the sentiment was still implied. Pretty soon, he was hurrying on his way once more.
A sight to behold, for sure. A large room, darkened by the absense of lighting or exposure to the outside world. It was massive, measuring hundreds of meters in every direction. To see to it's bottom was challenging, as shadows quickly took claim of all visible detail. Marcelius himself, was not in this room persay. Instead, high above the floor, the Fraccion stood in a glass walled observation deck. From his vantage, he could inspect the contents of the open space beneath. What he saw, was a large massing of Hollows...or truly, the corpses of Hollows. They were piled, like a funeral mound...quiet and songless. They were not, however, the feature which held his focus.
No, the attraction was the small, writhing cocoon which laid atop the pile. This was the forming figure, of the newest addition to the Las Noches family...the source of the tremendous gravity. Inside the shaping body, no thoughts could be heard. Whatever mind resided within it, was too lost in the process of reformation to have ideas or ambitions. For once, Marcelius could observe life that was mysterious. For once, he felt like everyone else, unsure of what was to come. His eyes never left the developing soul, who's spiritual energy was a light amid the dark. Now that he could see the event in person, it called many facts into question.
Was it truly a joyous day, knowing that new life was coming into Las Noches? Was it somehow acceptable, the deaths of all those Hollows below, for the evolution of this one? Perhaps not to him...but the universe saw things differently. That is right, nature deemed this as acceptable and fitting. The strong survive, and this young one was the strongest. Clenching his fists rather tightly, Marc let out a deep sigh. His shoulder slouched, and his once chipper posture faded. How hard it was to simply accept such things. Being Remorse, he could not help but wonder what could have been...had the lives of Hollows been defined by different rules. What would his species be, if personal growth did not come from consuming their own? Might they be weaker, or might they be stronger. For now...that answer eluded him. Instead, all he had was evidence of such barbarism's triumph.
Another great shift, the reiatsu pressure suddenly thickening once again. It would not be long now, the process would soon be complete. Down below, the new Arrancar was beginning to take form. Claiming the new body that was owed. It was now, in the final moments, that the energies density would be the densest. Marc began to take not of the changes, recording them in his mental archives for future questions and theories. With this change however, a different thought pushed forward. Would this not be the best moment to observe the spiritual wave's effects? Indeed, this new soul was causing quite a dramatic change in the spiritual atmosphere.
The energies being stimulated by this birth, were comparable to the moment of Resurreccion. Even lowly Arrancar, who have yet attained their full potential, can generate quite a field of power with their release. Right now, in the midst of this mighty transformation, spiritual particles were descending like water...all thought the surrounding area. With his absurd connectivity with reiatsu, he could feel this more accurately than any other living soul. As the particles passed through him, a being comprised of densely packed spiritual particles, they pushed and interacted with him. It was harmless, something that happened naturally all the time. This was how being such as him accumulated reishi in order to use their powers, after all.
What he wanted to take not of, was the impact reiatsu had on bones. As before, he noticed that they seemed to vibrate and shake when under heavy influence from spiritual pressure. As fascinating as this was, his purposes necessitated that the bones were reacting like this, due to their density. Being formed of more closely piled particles, made them more responsive...more resistance to the flow. If this was the case...then he could easily devise a Cero to make use of this fact. Just like the Mermar, this new Cero would be built to pop instead of catastrophically exploding.
The energy would be more mute, less volatile. If the dense formations within spiritual beings could be shaken by sudden bursts of spiritual pressure...then he could devise a nonleathal reishi blast; which would only target the denser qualities of bone. Sure enough, as he observed the motion of pressure throughout his body...his skeleton began to sing. A song of accomplishment, now in it's second verse. What he had speculated in the stairwell, was now twice proven. In his mind, the Cero was already coming to life. Life...that is right, he was here for other reasons than research.
The time had come. New life was about to enter the kingdom, and join the ranks of Hueco Mundo. Stepping closer to the glass, Marcelius strained his eyes to try and see the formation clearly. What he saw was a swelling of light. This was the abundance of reiatsu being expelled all at once. How excited it had to become, in order to glow. The light was pleasing, the sign of life. The brilliance of the shine allowed for Marc to see more clearly through the shadows. Illumination, though helpful for the senior, was detrimental for the one below. Suddenly, Marcelius snapped free from the trance he had set himself into.
No longer singularly fixated on the newborn, he could sense all the other lives which occupied the nearby space. It seems, at some point while he was lost in daydreams, more Arrancar had come to occupy the observation room. Each of them spread out, eyeing the scene beyond the glass. Though it was a surprise for him, they were not Marcelius concern. What was truly alarming, were the Hollows which had arrived within the expansive chamber. Marc did not need to be a mind reader for this. Even the other observing Arrancar were wise to the plight. The Hollows had come for one reason; to taste this peculiar new soul. The chill of the glass set Marc's skin on edge, as he laid his hands on the transparent plane.
This reaction came from fear...fear for the Arrancar who was yet accustomed to it's body. From his sides he heard voices, barely audible through the screams inside his head. "Looks like someone rang the dinnerbell..." "Hah! That's fucking hysterical! Day one and done! Hahah!" "Mmm, that isn't true yet. Anything could happen." "Both of you should shut up, and be glad there isn't any new competition around here." "Hey, old timer, what are you doing?" Though the question was more curiosity than surprise...the mood of it's inquirer soon changed. With a loud crash, the glass pane burst into shards and dust. In a blur of speed, Marcelius departed from the observation deck.
Tearing through the air in a rupture of sound, his feet soon planted onto the mound of Mask cadavers. The pressure here, far more terrible than when it had been. His ears were practically popping under the weight. Still...it did not deter his focus. Approaching from every direction, were Hollows of various evolutions. Each wefre hungry, and all of them wanted the power this natural Arrancar had. Marc was here to see too it...they did not get it. At first the Masks were hesitant, unsure if they should approach the newcomer. Soon their confidence bolstered, under the tyranny of their Hunger. Unable to suppress their advance with gravity pressure, it would not be long before they reached the top of the pile. Biting at the core of his chest, was the ache of his Hollow's Hole.
Even now, in the thick of it, he could not bear the thought of killing his kind. How cruel, that even for chairty, his guilt would not ease up on him. Suppose this would be another one of those doors opening. Yes, surely. That is what Marc had to tell himself, in order to attempt what he had conjured up. In a few moments more, his reiatsu began to build. Within his hand, he began to form a Cero. As he did so, one of the Hollows made a leap for their position. With the Cero not yet prepared, Marc was forced to swat the body away. Lucky for him, the nimble ones were so light. Regardless, a flaw had come to light in this more dark situation. Before he could rationalize it, another Hungry One came charging up the mound. Holding out his hand once more...Marcelius opted for a Bala.
So stupid. Why did he not realize it before. Not a Cero, but a Bala. Less energy, more compact. It was a far better vessel to support his new technique. Saving the self deprecation for later, Marc hurried to alter the energy in his hand. The charging body was big, and bulky. It had clawed its way up, and now threatened to trample Marc from the front. Too late had the inspiration come, for when he was forced to fire his attack, it behaved as a normal Bala might. Striking an outstretched arm, it fortunately spared the starving brute a painful death. Collapsing back down the hill, that contender was out of the fight. More were still coming however, and Marc could not guarantee they would all be hit in the arm. No time to bother, he prepared a second Bala.
Without hesitation, he altered it to be more like Mermar. A vacuum in the middle, the perfect design for a 'pop'. Dispersing this groups reiatsu would prove helpful however, so more changes were needed. As another sought to scale the summit, the old man suddenly poured more energy into the formed attack. Desperate to increase the outer layer's density, Marc prayed it would cause a more meaningfull impact against his tagert body. No time to do the math, he chucked the bullet straight at the victim's legs. With a hardy clap of a noise, the creature dropped to a knee. Having slipped and displaced it's balance, the large body began tumbling backwards. As far as Marc could tell...it was success.
Immediately he began launching more of newfound barrage. With each hit, another Hollow dropped. Even through the dark he could see them limping away, limbs either broken or numb. Then, his spine lit up with a terrible shock. Turning quickly, he saw that her had missed a more crafty one. It had descended upon them from the roof, and was set to drag the new Arrancar away from his protection. Without time to debate, Marcelius fired another shot where he had the best chance to hit. The energy sailed in an instant, and cracked against the beast's mask. In an instant, a tremendous fissure spread along the great white face.
There after, the large Hollow tumbled over and flopped down and away. Marcelius could hear music, but it had been made quite faint. As far as he could tell, the soul was still alive...its senses knocked out of balance. With that, the last of the assailants had been removed. The rest who were well enough to act, chose not to. Seems this new technique was exactly what Marcelius had been hoping for. More importantly, it did what he needed it too...save a life, without taking others. With the danger subverted, Marcelius took ahold of the newest member of the family. With a warm smile, and a calm voice which betrayed his recent worry, "Welcome home...let's get you some better food."
