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This article, Hunger and Greed: Interbellum, is part of Bleach: War for the King's Seal, which continues on from the opening segments of the site's former Fanon Canon project. Use of this page's contents is determined by the author of this page, unless otherwise specified. |
This article, Hunger and Greed: Interbellum, is the eleventh chapter of the Hueco Mundo arc, which is part of Bleach: War for the King's Seal. This chapter again focuses on the Averian issue, and serves as a sequel to both Predation and Sinking Sun, whilst running concurrently with Fortuitous Meeting. The chapter was authored jointly by Kenji and Saris.
The Tres Pilares had mobilized far more quickly than Averian had anticipated. He had so looked forward to savouring the culinary delight who had fought back the most competently against him.
The interruption of Grimmjow, Nel, and Harribel had the unforeseen and rather unfortunate effect of cutting his fun short, but it wasn't as if the hunt had been entirely spoiled by the self-styled rulers of Hueco Mundo. Quite the opposite, actually. He had made off with a number of new powers, chief amongst them a control over blood. He had experimented a little already on the local Hollow population of the Forest's deep interior, and seemed now to be capable of employing what the Quincy called "Blut". These battles had likewise served to heal his wounds and rejuvenate his energy.
As for right now, he was content to wait, his hunger seemingly abated for the time being.
That wasn't to say that he wasn't already eyeing up his next meal, however. The former Espada -- Gundinger Dreliarn -- had re-entered the Forest, and the Quincy son of Judah Eli -- Hikari Raiotto -- was likewise hunting him. Both had slipped through his fingers once already. Should he clip their wings now? Or leave them so that he could savour the hunt, and the kill, later?
Decisions, decisions.
"Eh, this place's so fucking big. A whole lotta nothing. Good thing I don't have to peek under every stone to find him."
There was a fairly tall, very muscular man who visited Hueco Mundo with a specific goal in mind. Clad in a dark purple uniform that exposed his strong arms, and covered his legs with plates of armour sewn into its fabric, he found himself in a rather non-descript portion of the infinite white desert. There was a dangerous glint in his ash grey eyes while he nonchalantly looked around, as if completely ignorant of the many threats that dwelled in this realm. Or simply undisturbed.
"Hmm, lessee...", he murmured when he crouched, and reached with one of his hands to a pouch strapped to his sash.
Then, he sprinkled some jet black powder on the greyish-white sand, and drew a circle with it using his index finger. Once he formed four distinct symbols within its confines, he placed both of his hands right above.
"Heart of the south, eye of the north, finger of the west, foot of the east, arrive with the wind and depart with the rain. Bakudō #58, Kakushitsuijaku", he recited with obvious focus.
The circle glowed in response, and the symbols inside it began rapidly changing. Soon, they revealed the current location of his target.
"Ah, there you are", said the man with a smirk.
When he stood up, a large shadow manifested behind. A big, humanoid Hollow possessed of two curved horns emerged from the sand to attack the intruder, eager to consume such an unexpected, delicious meal. However, the moment its long arms reached toward him, the Hollow realised that the man had already sidestepped his strike, and was now facing him directly. Surprise was the last emotion that his mind had experienced before the intruder hit him straight in the masked face with an open palm, immediately smashing his head into a spray of crimson blood. The Hollow's limp body fell to the ground, and the man observed that indifferently.
Such was life in Hueco Mundo, where the hunter could easily, without a warning, become the hunted.
"Tch. I'm not interested in small fry. I've been following real big game this time", he revealed to no-one in particular.
Then, he set out to the coordinates he had determined just a moment ago with the faint sound of Shunpo.
Leaping across the pillars and tree-like quartz formations scattered across the Forest of Menos, he covered a great distance within a short amount of time. His spiritual pressure was suppressed, but not so much as to completely hide his presence. Concealing his actual power and avoiding excessive attention was enough for the time being. Muto was the one who preferred a stealthy approach; his own to tasks like that was far more straightforward in comparison. He grinned when he detected the presence of his target. Just as the kid had described. One, two more jumps performed according to the tenets of Hohō, and there he was.
"Hello there", he greeted Averian the moment he landed in front of him rather abruptly. "Can you spare a minute?"
The intruder stood there in a relatively relaxed pose. His legs were bent slightly in the knees to maintain steady balance, his arms outstretched to the sides of his torso. In a way that was not openly threatening, but one that would allow him to react quickly to any sort of aggression. Even though he did not appear to be a member of the Gotei 13, the tachi he carried in its sheath was unmistakably a Zanpakutō, and what he allowed of his spiritual pressure to radiate from his body was far from insignificant.
The figure's ease was matched by Averian's own.
"Takeaway," Averian thought, his smile predatory. "Or would this be dessert?" The Humans had so many quaint notions.
What was astounding however was his complete ease, even when you considered the smile he wore. His white hair billowed in a mild breeze, his posture was slouched, almost lazy, like someone who'd just gorged himself on a buffet and had released the button on their jeans to relieve the pressure. He hadn't a care nor a worry in the world. Even his Zanpakutō was held in a loose grip, the tip trailing gently across the sand as Averian quietly paced. He wasn't impatient like that newcomer Grimmjow, but poised and ready.
Gundinger and Hikari were pushed to the back of his mind: something new, something not unlike an Arrancar, stood before him.
"Yes, you'll do," Averian acknowledged. "Splendid reiatsu! But tell me: what are you? I don't believe I've ever sampled your kind before."
"I suppose I've got your attention", said the man, scratching the back of his head in slight embarrassment. "You can call me Ikari. As to my... kind? You can tell, huh?", a crooked smile emerged on his face.
Two predators regarding each other. One satisfied and mildly interested, one just barely containing himself despite the calm, amiable veneer. Both equally confindent in their extraordinary power.
"The Old Man told me a little about you. You're Averian, right? The first Arrancar? That means you're a Hollow who's gained Shinigami abilities. As to me...", he shrugged. "Well, you could say I'm your mirror image. A Shinigami who's gained Hollow abilities."
He reached with his right hand in front of his face, his fingers curled. When he swept the hand down, a white mask manifested on it, resembling a stylised, frowning countenance. Hollowfication. Right afterward his spiritual pressure soared. Gently undulating, flame-like aura of blood red colour enveloped the man known as Ikari. The ground trembled perceptibly, and the sand beneath his feet was quickly covered in rime. The temperature in the area dropped noticeably.
"They call people like us the Visored", he remarked, his voice reverberating. "But I bet you realise I'm not here just to say "hi", don't you?"
Although he made no further move, he let his spiritual pressure expand. Its chilly aura was distinctly double-natured, part Shinigami, part Hollow, which made it quite similar to that exuded by Averian. A quiet hum supplanted the eerie silence of that place, and several dust devils formed in their vicinity.
"How things have changed since my absence," Averian mused. "Never would Yachiru, nor Anika, stoop to this level of blasphemy."
His ego, of course, prevented him seeing that he had done the same thing.
Averian, at his core, was a connoisseur. As he sensed Ikari's power, emboldened by his Hollofication, Averian licked his lips, his thought process overwhelmed by the uniqueness of the meal before him. How many Humans travelled abroad? Hoping to sample a small measure of another culture's cuisine? Outside Muto, Ikari was unique -- a hybrid, alike to the Arrancar, but different all the same. And that was enough.
"Very impressive," Averian acknowledged.
His vision narrowed, his senses included, to focus solely on the man before him. He left a singular and overriding instinct-fuelled command to the surrounding Hollow -- let none disturb me -- as the grip tightened on his Zanpakutō. Averian appeared to be barely contained, almost like he was consciously holding himself back, but when he exhaled at last, and his reiatsu began to build, there was no mistake that Averian had his appetite back.
"... The Visored, eh? I wonder how you'll taste?"
Without further ado, Ikari rapidly drew his sword. The sheer pressure of this simple action caused the ground to his right to burst forth in a cloud of dust.
"Like steel", was his reply.
Suddenly, he was right in front of the Arrancar. He swung the tachi upward, toward the vault of the spacious cavern in an attempt to swiftly bisect him. However, he did not expect an opponent of such calibre to fall to a single strike. What followed immediately was a flurry of heavy slashes, left to right, right to left, a single step taken forward after each one to force Averian on the defensive. Then, the warrior lifted his sword high to perform a two-handed, overhead strike, the power of which was sufficient to rupture the earth and produce a long, deep fissure that extended forward.
There was no retreat.
Averian's own reiatsu surged even as the ground to Ikari's right exploded in a show of force! As his hunger had been sated, if even temporarily, another facet of Averian's predatory character manifested itself: the thrill of the hunt, of the contest. Sport.
The Arrancar once more showed his chimeric nature and employed a combination of Blut-empowered Hierro, backed by his already impressive phsical strength, to meet Ikari's flurry of blows. When the overhead threatened Averian emitted a brief flash of blinding light, relocated himself whilst leaving a speed clone behind, and moved swiftly into Ikari's blind-spot.
"Cero."
There was barely any charge time and no 'fighting pose', the blast firing as swiftly as the weaker Bala.
Still, it was obvious that Averian's usage of Blut was hardly at a masterful level, his mimicry currently still in the developmental stage. The skin on his arms had been torn. But even that was soon reversed. The killing of Gengetsu, coupled with the death of countless Quincy, had reinforced the Arrancar's previously seen healing factor. Rather than healing only when he killed something through his Zanpakutō, his version of high-speed regeneration was fuelled now by his newfound ability to absorb ambient reishi.
Already the first exchange had revealed much about the power and skill of Ikari's chosen opponent. Rather than die or withdraw, swift retaliation was the response. Momentarily blinded, Ikari felt that his blade cut something, but it was not the killing blow that it had the potential to become. The voice that he heard from behind only confirmed his suspicions. Despite his considerable experience, despite his sharp reflexes, there was barely any time to react. He swivelled on the spot and held his sword in front of him as the beam of condensed spiritual energy engulfed him.
Bala with the might of a fully-charged Cero. That was what it felt like. Even though he had managed to redirect some of its energy away, he emerged singed from the attack, his jet black hair tousled. Still, his own toughness was remarkable as well, and even a direct hit would not have been able to fell him. Not yet. Far too early. His lust for blood was stoked even further than normal. After all, formidable foes were such a rare treat. It was one thing to crush an ant with a single blow, and something else entirely to repeatedly cross blades with a true warrior.
He did not stand there idly, of course. His hasty guard fluently transitioned into a piercing sally, the piercing sally transitioned into a shower of quick jabs. He slid his foot, shifted the balance, rotated his torso, and followed up with a circuitous two-handed slash. Then a diagonal, rising swing. Every move he performed was precise, fast, and strong, showcasing not just exceptional physical might but well-honed skill alike. In close quarters combat he was less a swordsman and more a force of nature, a veritable whirlwind of steel that threatened to tear the enemy apart within the blink of an eye. Violent, and unrelenting.
"You're tough, I'll give you that!", he commented all the while he continued his assault. "But let's see what you're really made of!"
All of a sudden, a small blast of energy shot from his blade: Bala. Within an instant the flurry of sword strikes changed into a volley of glowing projectiles unleashed rapidly in Averian's direction, showering him and the area around him with multiple explosions. The earth quaked, dust rose into the air, virtually continuous boom resounded across the Forest of Menos. Eventually, Ikari pointed the tip of his blade at the source of the Arrancar's spritual pressure, and a tiny orb of blood red light appeared before it. Accompanied by a very distinct sound, the orb grew significantly in a couple of seconds, and erupted into a pillar of destructive energy.
"Cero!"
Again, Blut was Averian's answer, but this time it wasn't the defensive form. Rather, he hefted his scythe and dived headfirst into the maelstrom! What a rush! Empowered by Blut, Averian met Ikari blow-for-blow. The dance was one of strength, of speed and grace, of poise and balance. He was momentarily put off-balance by the first thrusting Bala, and he ate three more thrusts, but managed to right himself in time for the oncoming Cero. Whilst the strikes drew blood, Hierro stopped them being anywhere close to fatal.
The blast began to envelop him, snaking up his fingers, wrists, arms. Then stopped. A plume of blue flames, rising high, pushing back the Cero, enough for Averian to escape. There was a quick booming sound of movement. And in the aftermath, one smiling, burned, Arrancar. He had moved to Ikari's back but made no further move to attack. Instead, he paced.
Circling.
The exchange revealed much regarding the Arrancar's regeneration. For one, it wasn't automatic. The lacerations from the thrusts were bloody and his arms were burnt. It was only when he actively absorbed reishi that his wounds knitted closed and the burns healed. And he wasn't healing at the moment, at least not yet. Instead, he just watched.
"I'm curious," and he usually wasn't. "Your mask. It strikes me as something that would have a time limit? How much longer have you got?"
While his approach to combat seemed brutal and straightforward, Ikari was a competent fighter. He had been observing the effects of his attacks upon the Arrancar. Evaluating his resilience and reactions. He genuinely appreciated the challenge, and did not hold back; the fact that his opponent had sustained only superficial damage so far sparked something deep within his mind. Not fear or anxiety, for he never experienced such emotions as an adult. Despite the chilly aura that surrounded him, he felt warmth wash across his mind.
"Time limit? Nah", he replied, ostensibly calm, his body frozen mid-swing. "I mean, I don't keep the mask on all the time like Kaoru-kun... that'd be annoying. But it ain't going anywhere any time soon."
While he was speaking, he relaxed, slowly lowered his sword, walked a few steps forward, and turned to face Averian again. With the ivory white plate of bone-like material obscuring his face, it was difficult to determine his current mood. He spoke in a fairly lackadaisical tone, but there was a hint of tension to it.
"To be honest", he continued, twirling the tachi idly. "It feels pretty natural to me. Just like this."
He held the Zanpakutō in a two-handed grip, poised in an overhead guard. His legs bent in the knees slightly. Once more, the ground beneath his feet was covered with a thin layer of glittering ice.
"Scorch the sky, Kokkan Moshō", he announced.
The release of his Shikai was indicated by a momentary glow of its blade... and nothing else. Suddenly, he charged at Averian. He renewed his assault with a high, one-handed swing that could easily decapitate an inattentive opponent, then followed up with a left hook to the face. A return sword strike from right to left, several quick swipes, a circuitous slash aimed at the abdomen that fluently transitioned into a roundhouse kick. Building up momentum, he continued twisting about his axis, becoming a whirlwind of steel again. Each consecutive blow was stronger than the one that preceded it. Stronger, stronger, even stronger.
Ultimately, he slid one of his legs forward, flexed his muscles, and performed a truly bone-shattering swing. The spiritual pressure channelled through his blade erupted into a devastating shockwave. Clouds of dust burst into the air, and a few rocky pillars in the distance were shattered a mere fraction of a second later. And if Averian not only survived this abrupt onslaught, but paid close attention as well, he could notice a faint, red glow begin to emanate from the Zanpakutō's blade.
During the brief lull, Averian had the chance to extend his senses outwards.
This battle had proved far too interesting to risk having the fun spoiled by interruptions now. He wasn't surprised: both Gundinger and Hikari were in the Forest of Menos, and both were likely hunting him. Whether they were working together remained to be seen, but it was a matter that required an answer. His reiatsu surged in an altogether different manner, calling to his loyal followers, who shared this space with him. The quartz-like trees, their spindly branches ever reaching towards the heavens, suddenly teemed with life! Red eyes -- those of the Menos -- stared out of the blackness, but thankfully made no move to intervene. Moving about between the feet of those towering colossus were smaller, far more nimble figures, one in particular with shining yellow eyes. He sported four arms, his hands akin to a pincer claw, his body was covered in a hard, bone-like carapace, and a set of wings, similar to that of a dragonfly, adorned his back.
"Keep them busy, Clarion," Averian ordered.
"At once, my lord," he said. His tone possessed an almost quavering quality.
He wasn't a Vasto Lorde, not yet, but rather an Adjucha, for his reiatsu was dense but not quite at the frightening level of the final classification. And there was something... different about its nature. There seemed to be a hint of Averian's own power backing it. This was the power of Trillizos. Rather than split his soul to create a separate being, however, Averian had shaved off some of his own mighty reiryoku to empower the most loyal of his followers. Power he could restore through a killing spree, if he so desired.
The law of Hueco Mundo: the weak are but food for the strong.
Clarion departed, his wings making a distinct vibrating noise as he moved away. All in time for Averian to return his attention fully to the sport of battle, just as Ikari intoned the release phrase for his Shikai.
Another facet of the Arrancar's abilities began to make itself clear, and that was Averian's ability to adapt, to mimic, and finally to execute. This was already quite apparent by how quickly he re-tooled and repurposed the skills of those he killed, amongst them Blut. So when Ikari came charging once more, it was a slightly more refined defensive display Averian employed. His use of the offensive Blut was measured, like a Shunko user perfectly matching the force and consistency of their opponent's attack with one of their own to cancel it out, and as he stepped backwards, forwards, with the needs of the moment, he weaved in additional and subtle Sonido steps, even as the sparks from their meeting weapons flashed. These steps weren't quite at the level to produce solid clones, but rather after-images, the goal of which was to confuse, to distract.
The final sequence of Ikari's offensive march, however, was met with an equally powerful Cero, once again with little charge-time, only this time mixed in the blood running down from his burned arms. Rather than the crimson-variant used previously, this was golden, and usually reserved for the Espada's exclusive use. The clashing energies produced a shockwave that dampened the area, swarmed through the trees, and shattered the ground underfoot!
Bloodied, with the entire top portion of his uniform blown to smithereens, revealing burnt skin kissed by the cool air, but not even close to unbowed, Averian laughed. It was a joyous sound from a creature who was finally beginning to enjoy himself.
In the meantime, the man called Ikari emerged from the cloud of smoke produced by the explosion. His injuries mirrored those sustained by his opponent: the undershirt that used to cover most of his well-muscled torso vanished altogether, and the skin on his arms was visibly burnt. However, unlike the Arrancar, he had no additional means of defence or a healing factor to rely on. Only the immense toughness of his hardened - but not invulnerable - flesh.
"Urgh", he growled as he landed on the ground a moderate distance away. "You're having fun, aren't you?"
He lowered his Zanpakutō and pointed it to the side. Its blade was now shining prominently with a dark red hue.
"I should say like, «I'll wipe that smile off your face!», or something", he continued, the reverb that distorted his voice rendering his tone all the more threatening, in spite of the somewhat humourous delivery. "But I'll do so much more than that."
He could tell. Even though he had completed numerous missions and won as many fights, some of them with just a single blow, he could tell. He could tell when someone was toying with him. Curiously, it reminded him of the feeling he experienced during the rare sparring sessions with the Archon himself. That he was merely an agry child, flailing in futility at an adult who remained in control the whole time, who knew that he could afford to weather several direct hits because he was never in real danger of losing. And that feeling made Ikari angry. The blade of his Shikai shone bright, emitting a distinct hum.
"Hah!"
With an abrupt swiping motion he unleashed a destructive heatwave. Everything in front of him, up to and including the area currently occupied by Averian, was vaporised within an instant. What remained in the wake was a gleaming ditch of sand turned into glass.
"Hyaah!"
Another swing, another broad heatwave erupted from the Zanpakutō right afterward.
"Orrraaah!"
The third strike was a sally, extended via the special ability of his Shikai like the ones before. Focussed stream of superheated air, like a peculiar, translucent Cero, burst forth toward the powerful Arrancar. Once more, the ground between the opponents was obliterated, leaving behind an ever deeper depression covered with glass.
Averian didn't seem too interested in entering into another close-quarters exchange, at least not yet. So he was happy enough to stay at a distance for now. He wanted to drag this out, to test the limits of that Mask.
The temperature increased even more, and not solely down to Ikari's Zanpakutō. Averian threw his arms out to either side as Ikari attacked, his reiatsu soaring! Flames went streaking through the air, bright blue, lapping at the air like a congress of salamander tongues. These individual streams burst forth, like guided missiles, countering a good degree of Ikari's assault. But not all. It appeared Averian was testing the limits of his own newly acquired traits. For streams of reishi fought a war of their own to heal Averian's wounds. The quartz-like trees, the sand itself, the ruptured earth. Hueco Mundo, like Soul Society, was rife with reishi, and the reimyaku itself was nourishing, at least to Hollow.
At last, he spoke. "I am. Rarely do I get the chance to cut loose,"
And to meet Ikari's final assault the Arrancar did just that. A torrential tsunami burst from the Arrancar's body, cascading outwards like a flood. Blue as the ocean on a clear day, yet as blisteringly hot as the desert sun. Just how much was Ikari willing to weather? Averian poured forth additional reiatsu, golden light clinging to his limbs, his eyes reflecting the colouration. He pushed, his Cero exploding from his hand, collapsing the entire conflagoration of flames! So whilst a deep depression existed, not all had been rendered unto glass. The space beneath and around Averian had been spared.
"I think its my turn, no?"
Averian surged forward, his Sonido booming in the sudden dead quiet, blue flames dancing along his scythes three sickle blades. One blow, a downward strike, aimed squarely for Ikari's skull. Blut-powered and gravity-fed.
Although Ikari was impressed by the display of Averian's prowess, he could not help but snicker at the sight of the flames that were unleashed. Rather than attempt to evade almost certain eradication, he poised his blade in a defiant guard when they engulfed him completely. Shortly later, the Arrancar followed up with a Cero. The smoke was blown away to reveal that he was still standing, inhumanly steadfast.
And when their Zanpakutō met in a bone-rattling clash, veins bulged out on the Visored's muscular arms, the ground beneath him cracked, but he himself budged only slightly. So close to his opponent, Averian could easily discern that he did not sustain nearly as much damage as he should have, as if he had not been submerged in an ocean of blue-hot flames just moments before.
And that the blade of Kokkan Moshō shone brilliantly, bright red, like a ray of setting sun held in Ikari's hands.
"Thanks."
The special ability of his Shikai, Kanki, revolved around the assimilation and manipulation of heat. Even though it was fairly simple, it could be easily interpreted as either being an ice-type or a fire-type Zanpakutō, and Ikari certainly was not telling that neither was true. After all, he preferred actions over words. As such, he shuffled his feet to improve his balance, then flexed his muscles to push Averian's scythe away and immediately proceded to perform a counter offensive.
At first, he swung his tachi once in a move that had the potential to cleave a formidable foe there and then. Quickly, he transitioned into a series of highly fast slashes, as if he attempted to reduce the Arrancar to a spray of blood. Kokkan Moshō glowed brightly throughout, emitting a threatening hum with each and every slash, drawing blinding lines with its length. Because, rather than let the accumulated heat escape, Ikari decided to keep it condensed, granting his Shikai great piercing capacity and an oppressive aura. For a time. Eventually, he tightened his grip on the hilt and unleashed another heatwave, more potent than the earlier three combined, right at his nearby enemy.
And it was as Averian thought. That Shikai dealt with heat -- a broad enough ability that it rendered his favourite acquisition essentially useless. And one made more potent in cramped confines.
"Even when I help you, you remain a one-trick pony," he goaded.
This was a different game now, the stakes suddenly higher. For the first pangs of hunger rose as a ravenous wave in the pit of his stomach.
His body shimmered just as Ikari moved onto the offensive.
Ikari was already familiar with Averian's use of after-images through his use of Gemelos Sonído, but he didn't stop merely at after-images this time, employing a larger variation of the same move he used against Muto earlier. Averian didn't so much as move from place-to-place, but blink in and out. One clone, left behind to keep Ikari busy, the defensive Blut casting long blue veins the length of his body whenever he and Ikari clashed, fought fiercely in close-quarters. The other clones, meanwhile, numbering in the teens, blanketed the area with randomly fired Cero! Laser beams blew away trees, shattered the earth, and caved in the ceiling. Some combined their Cero in order to punch a hole all the way to the surface.
For the first time in ages beyond counting, the crescent moon shined on Averian's domain. Averian himself moved through the opening. Below, his clones were rendered unto glass.
Below was too confined, too suitable for Ikari's needs. Here, on the wide-open dunes, was where Averian would continue. The dunes themselves would become his dining table.
Ikari observed the devastation around him with a hint of curiosity. However, his attention quickly returned to his opponent. While fairly laid-back, he was not suicidal. Averian was not the kind of enemy that could be underestimated or ignored, even for a short while. He followed him through the opening punched in the vault of the cavern - or the bottom of the endless desert, depending on the point of view.
"Well", he replied to the Arrancar's accusation with a shrug once he landed on the white dunes. "Muto-chan and Kaoru-kun are the versatile types. I just keep waving my sword at the other guy until he dies. Frankly, it's been pretty effective so far."
He had already realised that Hollowfication alone was insufficient to match Averian's might. Only when combined with his Shikai it allowed his fangs to actually reach the latter. The fact that the Arrancar thought it prudent to escape the relatively cramped space of the Forest of Menos further confirmed his evaluation. Although Ikari still did not believe that they were truly even. He was not arrogant or overconfident the way many of his level were. He viewed his immense power as something born of determination and hard work, not something that was bestowed upon him solely to torment the weak.
"I hardly ever have to put so much effort into a fight... but it's a nice change of pace every once in a while. Don't you agree?"
That was a statement, not a boast. Whereas Zetsubō preferred to inflict the death of a thousand cuts, and Muto carefully thought out each consecutive move, Ikari relied primarily upon a rapid application of destructive force that obliterated most opponents quickly. Battles of attrition were not to his liking, and he suspected that was exactly what Averian had been aiming for. Of the two, he was the only one who could actively heal his wounds, whilst the damage that Ikari had sustained would only accumulate as time went on.
He lifted his tachi in a two-handed grip and began waving it in broad circles, time and time again. Wind was stirred around him, enveloped him in continuous gusts, until a veritable whirlwind emerged. Kokkan Moshō continued absorbing ambient heat, its glow shifting from bright red to pure white, as he spoke again.
"Toying with your prey, eh? For such an old predator to be so careless... has your prey never bitten back?", he asked menacingly.
Afterward, he swung his blade to the side and lifted his clenched left fist, wreathed in crackling energy. Without any additional comments he shot a single Bala at his opponent. Whether Averian would shrug off, block, deflect, or evade the attack mattered little to Ikari. The main goal was to occupy the Arrancar's attention for the fraction of a second that the Visored required to approach him with masterful use of Shunpo.
"Bakudō #9, Hōrin!"
An orange-hued tendril encircled with spiralling yellow patterns burst forth from his extended fingers whilst he manoeuvred around the enemy, in an attempt to entangle him with the long rope of Kidō. Then, he extended his leg in a bone-shattering side kick and once he regained solid footing, swung Kokkan Moshō to employ another searing heatwave. Whilst he was no master of combat tactics, he hoped to surprise Averian with an abrupt display of atypical ingenuity.
"That's what makes sport so fun," Averian answered. "Otherwise, I'm just dining."
He really didn't see Ikari as a person, but only as a meal. Even those he had fought earlier -- Muto, Gengetsu, Hikari, Siegfried, Trillizos, even the Tres Pilares -- were all food for him to consume. The meal might talk, and sometimes even fight back, but in the end they ammounted to sustenance.
Now, however, it was Averian's turn.
It was time to play Ikari at his own game. Averian hardened his Hierro to the max via Blut, for when the Bala struck him square in the chest, blue veins showed under the surface of the skin. The only movement he made was to charge a Cero in his left-hand and hoist his Zanpakutō in his right. When the Kidō came snaking towards him Averian intercepted it with his scythe's chain, and allowed it to fall to the sands beneath his feet, both it and the Kidō forgotten. The Cero at this point was shining gold.
He planted himself firmly... and braced.
Ikari's kick caught him square in the ribs! Blue veins showed up clearly, and even with Blut and Hierro working in tandem, the destructive force of that blow was clear. He grimaced, the blood flowing down his side, but he did not budge: like an immovable rock, Averian stood his ground. And his Gran Rey Cero was charged. He thrust his hand towards Ikari's incoming strike! The Visored would either pull back, or forge on. And as he had already noted, Averian could afford to take some hits.
Could Ikari afford to take this one?
Rather than deal a heavy blow to Averian, the heatwave Ikari had deployed earlier saved him from sustaining crippling injuries himself. The technique clashed with the Gran Rey Cero, offering it some resistance. However, the struggle was far from even. There was a powerful detonation. Peal not unlike that of a thunder resounded across the expanse of Hueco Mundo, several nearby dunes were blown away, and the ground trembled. A single tendril jutted out from the ensuant cloud of smoke and dust. First, it rose toward the black sky, then curved in a downward arc that led it to the desert surface.
Ikari fell, rolled over, and stood up in a relatively fluid motion. He survived, but it was obvious he had not emerged from the exchange unscathed. What remained of his combat uniform were the armoured portions of his trousers, which assumed the form of somewhat peculiar shorts. His flesh was singed, burnt, adorned with a few stains of blood, and some fractures appeared on the surface of his Hollow mask. But he endured.
"I get it now", he seethed. "I understand why Muto-chan is so afraid of you, and wants you dead right now."
He swiped his left hand over his mask, and the cracks vanished. He was unable to mend his wounds, but he could do at least that much.
"Shigekuni Yamamoto, Yachiru Unohana, Sakaala, Yhwach, Sōsuke Aizen...", he enumerated, clenching his fist so tight that his whole arm was shaking. "You're all monsters, so much stronger than mere mortals that you come to believe we're your toys, your prey, and you can do with us what you want."
His battle with Averian had been aggravating, although it was not the direct cause of his current state. Rather, it served as the spark that ignited something buried deep within his soul. The kind of wrath that saw entire forests reduced to ashes, cities wiped off the maps, mountains shattered and ground into dust.
Wake up! Wake up, Cho! Please, I beg you! Cho!
"Focus. Look at me. Listen to me", he demanded, his voice raised so that the Arrancar could hear him easily despite the distance. "I'll show you how we, your prey, feel about the likes of you."
With those words he lifted his Zanpakutō high, over his head, as if to pierce the heavens.
"BANKAI!", he bellowed.
Kokkan Moshō flashed blindingly. Then, the process began. Vicious windstorm swept across the white dunes, further and further beyond, focussed on the white-hot blade. Within a couple of seconds, Hueco Mundo lent its heat to that one angry man. And when the assimilation finished as abruptly as it had started, Ikari stabbed the Zanpakutō in the ground right before him.
"MAKAHADOMA!"
Several glowing fissures extended from the point of impact, drawing an intricate web, only for seemingly the whole desert to erupt into a blaze of ghostwhite flames. With a thunderous roar they engulfed everything within their reach, and rose a dozen metres into the air. Any potential observer suspended high above could discern that they assumed the shape of an enormous, ethereal, glimmering sacred lotus flower. Once the fury of the final release subsided, the landscape was changed, illuminated by the sinister glow of the Bankai, and a quiet hum supplanted Hueco Mundo's typical silence. And there was Ikari, within the centre of this cold Hell, his ash grey irides shining prominently against the jet black background of his Hollowfied sclerae.
"Spectacular reiatsu!" Averian acknowledged. Though, he did do so in the way a gourmet might acknowledge a well-cooked steak.
He didn't stand still and wait patiently on Ikari finishing, however. Rather, he absorbed ambient reishi from the atmosphere, forcibly summoned a number of small and cowering Hollow from their sandy havens, and slew them where they stood. His wounds knitted closed, his reiatsu was somewhat rejuvenated, and he turned to face Ikari. His own preparations seen to, Averian waited patiently, like a feline lurking in the bushes.
And unseen by both, for it possessed no discernible reiatsu, was a small eye. It floated high up in the sky, its yellow iris observing and recording. This was one of Gundinger Drelairn's many techniques.
Ikari glared at Averian in silence, somewhat slouched, in a posture that seemed to indicate the first signs of fatigue and a sort of beastly determination both. His face was not visible, but his Hollow mask was expressive enough.
"Die", he uttered.
With uncharacteristic solemnity, he lifted his shining Zanpakutō, and began spinning it around, as if trying to stir the jet black heaven. The enormous blaze responded immediately, many of its flames converging upon the Arrancar in a freezing, eerie tempest of pure white. When he swung the blade downward, the tempest collapsed upon the opponent in order to engulf him completely.
"Die."
Then, the tachi stabbed the air multiple times at short intervals, each time another column of the heat-draining fire penetrating the dome manifested about Averian to strike him directly.
"Die!"
Eventually, Ikari grabbed the hilt of his Zanpakutō with the other hand, shuffled one of his legs forward, and performed a broad, sweeping slash. Several petals of the great white lotus flower fluttered, producing a giant wave that sought to immerse the area that his target occupied. Eradicating everything within, until ashes were all that was left.
"DIE!"
"Ah, is that desperation I detect? Hmmmm. It adds such spice,"
The Shikai version's destructive power had been impressive enough. The Bankai variant was not something Averian wanted to take head on without reason or cause. Even if he could heal through the damage, he knew that it was only a matter of time before he was interrupted again, especially now that the battle had moved from the obscurity of the Forest to the open desert above.
The moment Ikari started to spin his Bankai's blade, Averian released another blinding flash of white light! Ikari's style was simple, yet effective, and Averian had seen enough of it to have a fair guess at what he would do. After all, he had only broken form once in the whole fight thus far. So, Averian moved first, before the first strike came. His goal was clear now: keep on the move, never present an easy target, and keep some distance between them. Stay clear of the heat. It was the reason he had moved the fight from close-quarters, which favoured Ikari, to the open desert.
As he moved, Averian loosed fast-firing Bala blasts. It was akin to a cannon firing on full-auto!
How long could Ikari last, now that Averian had shifted his strategy? The Arrancar had fought against his share of Bankai before. He had fought six Captains in the past, killing all but two of them, and one thing he had learned about Bankai was that whilst they were powerful, they were taxing as well. Given his wounds, and his body language, it was reasonable to conclude that Ikari probably wouldn't be able to maintain his current level for much longer.
It was a form of persistence hunting at its most basic.
Whilst it would be a grave mistake to consider Ikari unintelligent, he was not a great strategist. He was skilled and competent, but at the end of the day, he was a power-based fighter who, in the face of significant difficulty, employed more and more power. He realised what Averian had been doing, and tried to counteract that in his own way.
As such, he began running toward him, his legs stomping craters in the frozen sand, as he kept waving his tachi. Thin streaks of fire burst forth from nearby flames, coalescing upon its brilliant blade. The Bala projectiles fired by the Arrancar disappeared one after another, blocked by ethereal petals that rose before them. With yet another swing, the Visored directed a portion of the pale inferno to intercept his enemy, to erect a thick, tall barrier of searing hot flames on his way, curving over his head to form a partial dome. Then, he leapt at the latter with the use of Shunpo, high into the air.
"Why don't you fucking die!?"
One downward slash, like the final strike of an executioner's blade. Tremendous amount of heat erupted from the Zanpakutō in the form of a ghostwhite wave of fire. Struck the ground, carved into it, through it, all the way to the Forest of Menos below, ever further, ever downward, until even the bottom of the vast cavern was obliterated. All that was left in the wake of this singular attack was a huge, roughly triangular hole that penetrated dozens of metres through several layers of the ground.
The immense flames surrounding the area continued their ghastly dance, however, their glow faded slightly.
Averian ceased all movement save for his right hand, which he lifted casually above his head. A portal, the empty black void of the Garganta opening up above, deposited the Arrancar's Zanpakutō into his waiting hand, the scythe having fell through an identical portal linked to the one above Averian's head. His golden Gran Rey Cero flowed onto his Zanpakutō, golden light respelndant in the Hueco Mundo darkness. The light highlighted blue veins snaking their way up his hands, arms, chest. At the same time, reishi flowed into his body, his reiatsu tinged with blue.
He adopted a low stance, his scythe held at his waist. He tracked Ikari's movement, braced himself, and exhaled calmly.
"Because the strong live... and the weak die!"
Switching to a two-handed grip, Averian swung upwards to meet Ikari's strike!
His ash grey eyes shining like dim, cold stars, Ikari watched as Averian met his heavy blow, and endured through the complete annihilation it wreaked. Rational thoughts and doubts populating his mind were erased one after another. Unable to cope with his powerlessness, he was consumed. Several vivid images flashed before his metaphorical eyes in short order: the expression upon his father's face when he told him he would come back one final time, and never did; the unmoving body of his younger sister, gradually covered with snow; the charred remains of his friends strewn across the battlefield. Ikari's mind was entirely purged, until a single emotion remained.
"WHYYYYY-!?", his question transitioned into an animalistic roar that could no longer be properly described in terms devised by humans.
He shuffled his left leg forward, his foot causing the ground to quake as it stomped. The radiant blade of his Zanpakutō rose toward the sky, wreathed in a veritable whirlwind of pure flames. Makahadoma erupted in tremendous fury, its petals growing ever larger, its heat becoming ever greater, its hue shifting from white to the lightest blue. The dunes evaporated, both Ikari and his Bankai rapidly sank toward the bottom of the Forest of Menos below, everything around them eradicated. His legs were covered with rime, frozen; his hands were covered with blisters, burnt. His mask cracked. So enormous was the power of his wrath that for the first time in perhaps forever, the jet black sky of Hueco Mundo was illuminated as if it were the middle of a sunny day... and then it all stopped abruptly.
"Huh?! What the-!?"
Several black orbs with subtle purple outlines manifested about him in short succession. Then, the ninth one appeared right in front of his chest. The Visored could only look with sheer incredulity at the fully-formed Kuyō Shibari spell that suddenly bound him. He went silent, and Makahadoma gradually returned to its calmer state as well.
"What in the actual fuck!?"
His question was answered with the abrupt appearance of a shadowy figure a few metres before him. A very tall and broad-shouldered man, good eight inches taller than Ikari, unveiled the cloak of Kyokkō that had been concealing him. Even though he wore a trench coat adorned with a plethora of belts, his dark purple attire resembled that initially worn by Ikari. And so did the Hollow mask upon his face, partially obscured by his long, bushy black hair.
"K-Kaoru-kun? You've been following me?", asked Ikari, clearly shocked.
"Of course", replied Zetsubō matter-of-factly in a monotone voice.
"Damn you!"
"You must not throw your life away, Ikari", he scolded the other Visored, then turned toward the Arrancar in the distance.
"Hmmm?"
That one sound, coupled with a raised eyebrow, were all the indicators that Averian had registered this new arrival. Would hunger override reason? The question was left open-ended for Averian had an interruption on his own end to deal with, because his Fracción, Clarion, emerged from an open portal, the Garganta empty in the background.
"My lord, the Quincy have left Hueco Mundo," Clarion's words carried a hissing inflection. "Gundinger eluded me."
"He did not interrupt me here, so you have not failed. Good work, Clarion," Averian answered. His tone betrayed what he truly thought of his Fracción. At best, he was indifferent. He neither cared for, nor wanted to truly know, them. All that was required was he do what was expected of him. "But we have tarried here over long. We shall join Gorky and Nix at the Negal Ruins, and from there hit the Soul Society."
As he turned to leave, he cast a look over his shoulder. "Consider yourself fortunate, Visored. Just hope you do not have the misfortune to cross me a second time."
And with that, Clarion and he stepped inside the portal.
"Oi, don't let them get away!", shouted Ikari at his companion.
However, Zetsubō silently observed as the two Arrancar left. It was obvious that he did not intend to chase them. Instead, he turned to the other Visored and undid the binding spell that had immobilised him. Somewhat resigned and dejected, Ikari let the fragments of his Hollow mask fall off, and his Bankai gradually subsided, until it faded away into nothingness. Even though he looked like a corpse, his stance was firm and his countentance did not indicate exhaustion. Rather, he looked quizzically at Zetsubō.
"His arrogance blinds him", stated the taller Visored gravely, referring to Averian. "He believes himself the apex predator. So single-minded in the pursuit to quench his everlasting hunger that he loses sight of the world around him. However, one day, as he stalks his prey again, he will finally realise... that someone is stalking him."
Ikari seemed to ruminate upon those words for a moment, then burst into mirthless laughter.