The Remnant of a Broken Order

The Fall From Grace
"I have raged....and wrought destruction..."

A ruined landscape, formerly known with pride as the Seireitei, stood basking in the darkening skies. War was a cruel mistress, and she had proven that once more with not a hint of prejudice. Buildings lie burning in bright blue flames, or pummeled into utter rubble. Craters and crevices dotted the landscape, some filled with bodies, some with ashes, and some with nothing. Men and women, and even a few children lay in the battle's aftermath, bloodied, broken, or utterly torn to shreds. Some found comfort amongst other wounded individuals as their final moments drew to a close, while others lay screaming in despair, begging for their loved ones, alive and dead, to save them from such a harsh fate. It was as if hell itself were upon the land, and this was simply it's first stop.

"Nothing lies hence, beyond the void that awaits you and I..."

Within one pile of burnt rubble was a single hand, stuck out into the air, lifeless and cold. After a few seconds, it seemed to be simply another casualty, but then it moved. The entire arm of the hand shot up from the rubble, coming back to the earth and grasping what it could to pull it's body out of the ground. Emerging with a raspy gasp of air was a man in his early thirties it seemed, with short, messy white hair and a white military outfit. His attire was burned all over, though it mostly remained in tact, save for the man's left sleeve, of which revealed a burned arm and glowing lines underneath it's skin.

"When I walk the earth again, I will hunt your face, be it in a desert, or amongst an army..."

He breathed heavily, groaning as he pulled himself from his rubble grave. He grasped his chest area as he sat up amongst the ground, and his eyes began looking all around his surroundings. For a minute, he seemed to have forgotten where he was, but the voice in his head, a voice of an enemy who had lived long ago it seemed, began to bring him back to reality: He was a Quincy, a pure blooded Quincy, meant to fight alongside others in a war against the Shinigami. He had stood in the path of a demon it seemed, a demon of black fire that nearly killed him, and killed his fellow Quincy in the process. He had survived, but barely, to either fight another day or lie rotting where he sat.

"Naught shall remain..."

He felt his vision fading as he breathed heavier and heavier with each passing second. He glared at the burn wounds on his left arm; it was horrendous, nearly to the point to where he could see the bone of his arm. But slowly, the skin began to emit a bluish smoke, and it began to heal itself it seemed. He couldn't marvel at this long, however, as voices drew his still fading attention upwards. Men dressed in black robes, those of the Shinigami's, scoured through this ruined fortress, searching for their dead and wounded, or the wounded of their enemy. A hopeless task, in the eyes of many, but to some who were bold enough to retain their optimism, it was something that simply needed to be done.

"God...look at all of this..." one of the younger, male Shinigami said, with his dark brown hair spiked up and his green eyes gazing in horror at all of the destruction and suffering that he was forces to walk over. "Our home...it's just...I can't even think of what to say..."

"Then don't say anything." The elder of the five man team said. He was the tallest of the group, with light grey hair that stretched down to his neck and a fairly large beard attached to said hair on his sideburns. "Stay focused on the task at hand. Do not let your will waver by what you see; what is destroyed can be repaired."

"But there were so many of them." The youngest of the group, a small female with short blonde hair said in a frightened manner. "They had us outnumbered five to one it felt like! How do we fight something like that!?"

"Enough!" the elder man barked, glaring at them all as he stopped the group and turned to face them in a imposing fashion. "Letting defeat and despair into your minds will make this war all the more pointless! There is no valor in dreading the coming of war, no honor in dropping your arms at the sight of death! You are Shinigami of the Gotei 13! Now start acting like it, and let's go!"

This brought their attention back to the task at hand, rather than the despair that crept into their minds. Only a few minutes passed after this, did the young Shinigami girl's attention divert to something interesting.

"Sir! I see one! An enemy soldier!" she said, pointing in the direction of the silver haired man, who still sat up looking at his healing arm. With this, they all five drew their blades in preparation of resistance in any form.

"Keep your wits about you! Never underestimate your opponent, no matter how wounded they may be!" the leader of the team said aloud, moving closer and closer towards the Quincy. When the latter began to stand up and gaze at them with almost dead eyes, breathing in raspy but calmer breathes than before, they all, save for the leader, strengthened their holds on their weapons.

"Quincy!" the elder bellowed in a commanding tone. "You are outnumbered and gravely wounded! Resisting us will grant you nothing but death, so we, in the name of the Gotei 13, demand that you stop where you stand and surrender peacefully, or we will put you down like the animals you and your comrades truly are!"

The Quincy staggered, gritting his bloodied teeth together as he inched closer and closer, raising his hand up to them in a menacing fashion. "Where...is my..." he spoke to them in a broken voice, nearly falling to his knees as he struggled to keep moving. Finally, he could not find the strength to stand any longer, falling flat on his face in the ground before them all.

As they all came to examine him, the brown haired boy from earlier noticed the healing taking place on the incapacitated Quincy's arm. "Sir! Look! His arm's wounds, they're regenerating themselves!"

"A Quincy, healing themselves?" another one of the group said in low disbelief. "Like a Hollow can? That's impossible."

"The Captains will need to see this." The elder said in a lower tone, grasping the Quincy's body and slinging it over his shoulders to take it to the prisons. "We could be dealing with something far greater than a simple Quincy..."

The white haired man's mind was fading, with only the voice in his head remaining.

"Naught shall remain..."

--

He had fully healed by the time he had awakened, though his attire was still burned in some areas, and bruise marks dotted his revealed skin. With a low gasp, his eyes shot opened as he sat in a single prison cell, with hard wood flooring and a single bucket in the corner. Instead of simple bars, the room was sealed in what appeared to be a glass barrier, though knowing how the Shinigami work things, it was far more than simple glass.

He'd been taken prisoner by the Gotei 13, one of very few, he imagined. Such a humiliating position he was in, but it was all due to his own miscalculations and downright arrogance that he was in this place. He would be interrogated in some fashion, he knew, but by whom? He could only wonder as he sat calmly on the floor, awaiting who would come for him.