A Worm in the Eyes of God

Broken Angel
The wind was howling like a discordant choir of damned souls.

Captain Teruo Akui was treading a decrepit road that led across a vast plain. He had the full Shinigami uniform on him, complete with the Captain's haori. His Zanpakutō was stored in its sheath at his right hip, waiting. The wind was blowing incessantly, and clouds of dark orange dust rose to the air to obscure the horizon. Noteworthy landmarks were few and far between. However, there were several black pillars looming above the shroud of ash, crooked and embellished with crude metal spikes that protruded from seemingly random places across their height.

There were corpses hanging from the spikes, half-decayed and clad in tattered rags. Left and right. The wind blew with a piercing wail, and the lifeless limbs tilted to its rhythm.

Teruo paid little attention to that. Instead, he focussed on the monumental if grim monastery he had been gradually approaching. The massive form of the building was pitch black, contrasting with the ghastly orange of the clouded sky. It was a tall building, dark and impressive, with twin towers rising above its bulk like two hands outstretched toward the sky in the dying moments. Akui continued onward, disregarding the torrential winds. He was calm, unswerving. Dauntless. He had a clear objective and nothing could distract him.

At last, he reached the foot of the hill the monastery had been perched upon. He began climbing the stairs in a steady pace. The steps were ruined, marked with the scars of erosion. However, Teruo treaded in an even pace. The temple seemed to loom high above him, although mere moments later he was in front of its gate. He gazed upon the midnight blue façade. Lancet arches and circular adornments. Stained glass of the windows and sculptures flanking the main entrance, twin entities each standing on an opposite tip of a scale. Both of them blindfolded, an angel to the right and a devil to the left.

Teruo lifted his left arm. Then, he pressed the thick wing of the gate with the palm. There was little effort in the motion, for the gate began opening with marginal resistance. Slowly but surely, the wings unfolded with a protracted creak. Thus, they let a wedge of orange light pierce the absolute darkness within, a pitch black abyss not unlike the void of deep space. Akui walked inside. Barely had he made a few steps within the temple, the massive door started closing on their own. Just a few seconds later the wings folded again, cutting the Captain off from the sombre outside world.

There he was, a single man in the middle of nothingness.

Nothing to be seen. Nothing to be heard. Just a limitless black expanse of extreme silence. However, he could still perceive his own body, as if a small amount of the orange glow had lingered, illuminating him timidly. The blackness was palpable, oppressive, stifling, but he continued forward. The sound of his footsteps was dampened to the point of being inaudible. He slid onward in a state nearing sensory deprivation, a solitary entity in the centre of nothing.

Clank.

"You have come, again."

A disembodied voice. An utterance with no source, resounding across the area of no boundaries. Strong. Melancholy.

Teruo stopped at last. He took a deep breath. Then, he let out the air off his chest in a measured manner. Focus. Composure. He casually put his hand on the hilt of his Zanpakutō. He had to be vigilant.

"Afraid, of the others. Seeking refuge in a world such, desolated", the voice spoke again.

Clank. The sound of chains being dragged across the bricks of the floor. The acoustics of the monastery's abysmal interior rendered the attempts to pinpoint a source impossible. The only thing that could be determined with a degree of certainty was that the proximity was rather close. Dangerously close.

"You endeavour, to improve. To have the strength, to protect the others. The ones, you fear. But do you have, what it takes?"

This time Teruo did not as much hear as feel the whizz of something approaching at high speed. There was no hesitation. His left arm swung to the side and the gently curved blade of his Zanpakutō emerged in a rapid slash that defended him from the ambush attack. There was a collision, clatter of metal, a brief flash that illuminated the shape of the entity who had addressed Akui moments ago. Too little, too fast to tell what that was.

Silence.

Teruo turned his head around. That was pointless. A logical reaction that had no place in such an unusual place. He could not see nor hear the entity. Regardless, the signature of its could be, in fact, perceived. Spread all over the black void it was not something that drew attention quickly. The sensation was... unpleasant.

"Steadfast. Dauntless. Are you?", the voice reverberated momentarily until it faded away into the darkness.

Suddenly, Akui turned to the right side. He grabbed the hilt of his katana with both hands and poised the blade at an angle. Mere moments later something clashed with the blade. The momentum of the strike caused him to slide backward a few inches, although the unknown attacker passed by. Teruo remained firm.

"Can you bear, the pain?", the entity asked.

Swoosh, not very loud but audible, preceding the attack. Akui held his Zanpakutō two-handed in front of his chest. The opponent collided heavily with the risen blade, pushing the Captain somewhat to the side. Whilst the entity passed by, Teruo felt a single streak of blood flowing gently from a cut on his cheek.

"Remain calm, in the midst of turmoil?"

Composure. He had to focus. His body was a weapon. His mind was a weapon. His soul was a weapon. He could feel the energy coursing through his veins, invigorating his body and clearing his mind. He closed his eyes, for sight was useless under those circumstances. There were other sense he could rely upon.

Another strike. This time he deflected the enemy narrowly, but successfully. Silence. There was no further comment afterward. Just a period of tense waiting. And again, an attack. Faster, stronger. But Teruo blocked the stab with a swing of his Zanpakutō. The enemy kept changing the direction and even the faint sound of chains did not betray his position. He was voice, he was sound, he was an oppressive force with no body or identity. An enemy...