Warrior [ Trial | Cae ]

He stood sharply at attention, his scythe pointed sharply at the moonlit sky above, his golden eyes faced eastwards in some unknown direction. His features, though sharp and menacing were unmoving, almost like granite or stone, to any onlooker one might be fooled for considering that they were looking at a statue, and none could blame them.

For eons he had stood, unmoving, unflinching, many had come, many had tried to take his power, to consume him for themselves but each had been repelled. Many had been slain, those who lived to remember him not daring to return. This was his task, to stand and wait.

There shall come one who will bring about the end of days, the herald of the end. Your gift. . . . your blessing will be not to see death until you cross paths on these desert sands, your sacrifice will be the final stepping stone to their ascendance.

And so he stood. Like a guardian to some unknown treasure, awaiting the foretold one, the one worthy to bestow death upon him and bring domination to the world. He could already sense the approach of another challenger, another that the desert had decided to spit out in an attempt to bring him down. From the moment she had entered his periphery he had steeled himself for the eventual confrontation that would inevitably come.

It was time once again to see if today would be his final day on these sands.

Names are irrelevant.

He spoke unamusedly, his voice deeply demonic to a degree, an ominous calm seem to creep in with those words; almost every creature the desert had sent him had asked for a name, what was their obsession with names? a carcass with an identity was still a carcass at the end of the day. His conscience had become so familiar with death that names had become irrelevant, why would they be when it was either you or your opponent that was going to die? He eyed up his challenger with a stony stare, she looked weary, no doubt from having tried to survive this long, her features ghastly and worn. . . . but reeking of power, this one would definitely serve to be a challenge.

You will either win and continue to exist, or die by my hand and be forgotten forever. My name should be the last thing on your mind.

Fingers clenched around his scythe as he finally broke his stance, sweeping the weapon around his body with such fluidity one might be forgiven for thinking that this was but a statue a few moments ago, his eyes immediately fell upon her bala and a deep rumble of a laugh formed in the depths of his mouth.

Conserve your energy, I am no simple opponent you can hack down with prowess.

As an example he immediately plunged the scythe into his mid section, the weapon slicing through his granite like skin with the ease of a hot knife, black blood immediately spurted from the incision like water out of a broken dam and the dog like hollow fell to the ground lifeless, his blood pooling out before him like a mire of tar. Seconds would pass before the pool of blood would begin to shink inwards, as though being absorbed back into the body. Moments later the dog vasto would rise once more, removing the scythe from his torso with an soft squelch.

You are free to use me as a dummy to see that it is no idle boast. You will however have one chance to truly strike me down, I will not tell you when or how, but I will not kill you until you have squandered that chance.

This was in a ways, ideal and not ideal for his opponent, whilst he had given her free reign as to have her way with him, he would not die unless she took her chance, if she missed her opportunity that would spell death for her; even more unsettling would be the fact the she didnt know when her chance would come, it could come now , later or anywhere in between.

If you run now I will have no choice but to cut you down, given my power im sure you know that is almost a guarantee.

She was smart, but predictable, almost every opponent with a brain stopped to think the moment he told them that. Without once considering the fact that he couldn've been lying, he wasn't, immortality kept you alive long enough not to fuck around, especially when you'd killed so long that life became boring, so much so that hunting down the ones that did run had become more of a chore and less of an adventure.

The newcomer, unknowingly had wandered into a system as long and as old as she was, he almost pitied her as she sat in her position trying to think of a way to circumvent his nigh invincibility. Wits would serve her well, but against an opponent who could not die how far would they get her?

You the last one hundred before you, what makes you think you're special?.

He had not attacked yet, nor would he need too, he had all the time in the world to hunt her down and kill her, she had yet to find a way to kill him and given how she had responded to his initial comment, he held some sway over her actions.

Don't even consider trying to consume me whilst i'm down, I'll simply take over your mind and transform your body into my likeness.

That was a lie, he had yet to actually be eaten after he was killed and truth be told none had tried given how quickly he was back at it after they had killed him, given how quickly she had picked up on his last comment he figured she would take this one with the same weight.

If you choose to forfeit your chance, let me know, and I will end it now.

He doubted she would, hollowkind were a stubborn race, they were resilient, resisting anything and everything that stood in the way of their survival, it was what made them so fearsome to the shinigami, creatures with no other instinct other than self preservation and evolution. She would find a way in time, whether it would save her and grant the evolution she truly craved was yet to be seen.

In as much as he preferred conversation over fighting, he'd grown incredibly irked at her continued pensive state, he was after all still a hollow and despite his dutiful nature she had been the one to challenge him. She spoke of others who were waiting on her, as though their survival hinged on her continued existence.

How pitiful, another one that verifies their existence from the expectations of another.

He cared not for whoever was waiting on her to return, she had come to his feeding grounds, she had challenged him. It need only follow that she follow through with it upon pain of death, a death he had grown tired of waiting upon himself. The dog hollow craned his neck from side to side as his body unstiffened, he wasn't going to kill her until she had squandered her chance, his ability was a cruel one to any that loved death, or maybe it was a blessing in disguise? either way he wasn't going to let her sit there merely plotting his downfall. 

Living for another. . . .tell me what do you think he would do if you died? do you think he would kill himself to join you in the void? that's as narcisstic as living for yourself

That she would burden another with her life and her existence. . . .

Holding out his scythe towards her, a beautiful jade cero would form at the blades tip. She had grown a little in the few moments they had shared, then again pensive thought always inspired some form of of growth; whether beneficial or detrimental was yet to be seen and truth be told he had grown tired of waiting on her to figure it out. She had spoken about how all hollows were the same and whilst he disagreed with her statements on singularity there was one thing that united all hollowkind together.

Death.

You've had enough time.

His voice almost remorseless as the green orb would envelop all before him in a sea of jade, she had spoken about not being one to disappoint, a line he'd heard from plenty over the years. It was time to see if she could walk the walk. She knew she could not kill him, but she also knew he would not kill her until she squandered her chance; hence this simple act of violence would throw her off, him attacking would hopefully foster a fear in her that she had indeed squandered her only chance at survival.

It was time to see whether or not she was worthy of bestowing on him a glorious death.

The time for talk was over, but Anoobis was far from done speaking, he was going to expose her for her weakness, even now she still failed to grasp the intent of his message. A life was not some trivial thing one should lay down for their friends, it was something to treasure, something dear to one who valued it, having lived as long as he had, having died as many times as he had he had begun to take his own life for granted, as had the hollow he was now facing.

The flicker of her frame darting across his periphery drew his golden eyes towards her, more specifically the cero charged in her hands, a wry smile forming across his face.

She still had yet to learn.

As the cero erupted from her fingers he held out his arms, as if embracing it, her energy would consumed him, blasting away his muscle and tissue, scouring at whatever remained until he was but a skeleton of blood and torn muscle, something almost out of a horror movie. Surely that was it. . . surely this would be the killing blow.

You still don't get it do you?

The jaw of his skull, still somehow in tact despite all this, moved as he spoke, black liquid gushing like tar from his exposed body as it wrapped around his skeletal frame, hugging it tightly as muscle reformed, which would then be covered with tissue and eventually skin, in a matter of mere seconds the vasto would once again be reborn, with skin as beautiful as a babe.

They say that when two praying mantis meet to mate, the female consumes the head of the male post coitus. . . .the body of the male is then used to house the females eggs

When one knew that another would die for them, you took their life for granted as well as yours. Her words about not asking him to die for her were just that, mere words. The comfort of having one who would, without a word, lay down their life for her fostered a faux sense of immortality. The action itself whilst one of true sentiment from the life giver, was the ultimate act of self preservation from the life taker, in a sense she was no worse than her friend's potential would-be killer, laying the eggs of her future in the carcass of her friend's life.

How sickening. . . how selfish. . . how hollow-like.

You call me a narcissist because I say I am unkillable, yet you yourself have no concept of the value of life, how many died so that you would be strong enough to challenge me? how many more so died so that they would be food for those whom you consumed? and yet you talk of laying down your life for your friend as though it were the simplest of tasks. What of the hopes, the dreams, the ambitions of the ones you have consumed? surely their existence is worth more than dying at the feet of a stranger

His voice was uneasily cold, like the sharpness of steel right before it cut into flesh. She spoke of laying down her own life and yet in a heartbeat was ready to try and kill him, as many times as it would take in order to have his power for her own. Contempt lined his eyes and the flames of irritation kindled the embers of an anger he had long since forgotten.

A sharp sonido would carry him right behind her, the scythe once again in his hand and extending outwards in a sharp arc that would cleave her right arm off completely if it landed.

Hypocrisy is a very unattractive trait, most especially since the hypocrite is unaware of their own hypocrisy.

He would show her, expose the flaws and errors in her thinking, she was still unaware of just how precious life really was, including her own . . . .laying down one's life was not some trivial thing you did with your buddies, it's actions had serious repurcussions, he would show her just how important her life was. . . . . by taking it.

And yet you see it fit to kill me only so that you can and die later on?

The irritation had sparked into embers, the embers were now beginning to fan into anger. It disgusted him that she would talk of ideals, of dying for freedom. When in the end she was still as much a slave as her kindred. . . . a slave to hunger, a slave to the need to consume; it was who she was and it was what she would remain, it was hunger that had led her to him, all this paltry talk of freedom was something to ease her seemingly frail but no less cunning conscience.

I do not wish to die for such a cause frankly, I have not stood on these sands for eons awaiting one who would later go on and die

Although he knew little of the shinigami and their methodical slaughter of hollow kind, he cared not for their ways, whatever freedom she sought was a mental invention, she was not free and neither was he, in the end they were what they were. . . .monsters. He pondered too his own lesson. What exactly was he trying to teach her? that even monsters had hearts? then this class was all but done considering how she talked about the one's she had killed. . . . and yet. . . .

He was immediately brought out of his thoughts as hot flames licked at his body, melting away the skin and tissue, he cared not for the pain, it was almost expected now given his. . . .hang on. . . . why were his wounds taking longer to heal? up until now every blow she had registered had been healed in a snap so why was this attack? . . .surely it couldn't be? . . . not this one, the killer that talked about dying?!?! there was no way. . . .absolutely none, she had no concept of the beauty of life and would kill for her gain using freedom as an excuse to further her cause.

And yet it could not be more ironic, the one who could never be killed falling to the one who was trying so hard to die.

You must be a fool if you think their hopes and dreams are similar to your own. I doubt they saw themselves living on in you; if anything. . . .

Another sonido would immediately bring him up close once again, the scythe already descending in another arc as he aimed a diagonal slash across her mid section, from should to waist, in an attempt to completely gut her the way a hunter would a dead deer.

I think they forfeited their lives when they saw that their own survival was no longer guaranteed.

Slaughter in the name of dreams, killing for survial, death for life. . . . .

This one would definitely be a problem.

Frustration gnarled at the vasto lorde's features as the impotent hollow sought to lecture him on the value of life, she knew nothing of his curse, what he had endured, the loved one's he had lost to time. . . .all so he could stand here and listen to her drone about how important dying was. His teeth clenched even tighter with rage as she entered another sonido.

Hypocrisy was an unattractive trait after all.

Her whip would lash into his body repeatedly, tearing away chunks of flesh at a time, the vasto lorde merely standing there as his body took lash after lash of punishment, the pain was but a sensation long accustomed to, in the countless battles he'd had the feeling had lost its edge, now it was merely a dull throb of his body. When she was finished his body would be nothing but lacerated flesh with whites of exposed bone But he stood for another reason. . . .to see whether or not her first hit was a fluke.

To both of their dismay the black fluid would once again gush out from every exposed orifice, gathering the torn flesh in its tar like soup and bringing it together once morre to form the vasto lorde's body, only the initial wound she had inflicted remained.

That's quite the powerful technique you have there. . .

For all his rage the vasto spoke with the patience of a monk, he knew she would eventually exhaust herself, time was literally on his side. Her initial wound seemed to be a fluke, but even so there was a saying about flukes being the most common fish in the sea. The time for riddles and tricky sentences and philosophy was over, it was time to get to the nitty gritties. Reaching down with his new body, the vasto picked up the scythe that had been dislodge from his grip when she had lashed off his arm.

Why did they have to die and not you? You speak of this great sacrifice and how you are willing to die for it, yet you cannot put it into practice when considering another life

All this time she had held onto the notion that it was she who was destined to carry out this goal. . . .this ideal, she was not the first either. Many before her had come to gain his power for that exact cause, they had fallen each of them, she was different in that she had initially managed to wound him, but that had gone to her head and hope of living to see that goal had once again served to be her biggest enemy.

You are no more special than they, why did they have to die so that you could live?

He would not use sonido this time, merely taking step after step towards her as he spoke, his fingers gripped tightly around his scythe as he slowly approached her. Whatever her little moment of brilliance was earlier, it had left her now. . . .at least for now anyway.

You speak as though you are the only one worthy of carrying this burden, as if you are the only one to lay down your life and by levelling my own question at me you speak to your own faulty reasoning.

He paused a moment, just in case she had another attack up her sleeve; he was more than willing to be patient and allow her to exhaust every avenue she could, after all despite the wound she had inflicted on him she was yet to squander her chance, though whether or not she would stumble upon her epiphany once more was yet to be seen.

I killed at first because I could, when that became boring I killed because I had to. . . .now I kill in hopes that the one fit to kill me will end my worthless existence. I suppose in that regards you and I share a similarity

His piercing eyes bore into her for but a few more moments.

When you die, you and your memory. . . .all the souls you have consumed, will be forgotten. In time the loved one you thought you were dying for will also be consumed by the void; the shinigami you speak of will carry on culling you like cattle because that is what they have done, even they too are not exempted from the fangs of the void and when it comes they too will be forgotten, in time death will claim this world, nay even this universe that is the cruel constant reality, we must continue to move on. The true narcissist isn't one that abuses the mortality of others, but the one cannot see let alone accept their end for what it truly is.

Therein would be his first, final and only clue; death gave life meaning, without life you couldnt have death and without death. . . .you couldn't truly live; the two complemented each other like white on rice. It had taken him eons to figure that out, time that his counterpart did not have at her disposal.

All this time she had spoke of life and death in regards to herself, as if by living she could fight death and in dying she could cheat it and somehow continue to live on by preserving herself in the archives of time or in the memories of the one's she protected when in truth it was much larger than them. . . .much larger than him. It would come for all of them, no matter how she tried, no matter how many she consumed, no matter how strong she became, it would come. As depressing for her as it was, it was a hope for him, that he would find release, that the void would finally come and claim him and they would start anew.

In order to truly live like she said . . . .in order to defeat him,she would have to do one thing and one thing alone. The one thing she had been fighting against all her life up until this point.

Accept the finality of your death for what it is, the end.

Should she not attack him the vasto would break into a run, closing the remaining distance between him and his foe with electric speed, the scythe once again held to his left side would arc out diagonally to cleave off her left arm if it landed.

He had underestimated her intelligence, he knew that the moment he saw it dawn on her face, unknown to her the realization had made her eyes more steely, more . . . .dare he say stronger. When you accepted that death was inevitable life suddenly took on greater meaning, you had something to live for other than fighting an end that would come. For a hollow that has fought not only for their right to exist but to maintain that existence the sanctity of life had all but been lost in the kill or be killed nature that constituted the sands of hueco mundo.

That was also why all that had come before her had failed, they were always fighting against something, if not each other, but more importantly they fought the end. An end they could not fight but accept, an in that acceptance came true strength. Were he her teacher he would have nodded solemnly at those words, for they were words to be spoken with respect. Respect for one's own mortality.

As his scythe slid through her arm, blood spatter catching him by surprise as he instinctively blinked to shield his eyes, but by the time he'd opened his eyes her arm, rather her whip was already extending towards him, in that moment their eyes locked and in hers he could already see the impact of his words, there was a strange strength about them. Most would get depressed by the notion of inevitable death hell most would want to commit suicide at that moment and be done with it, but she. . . . she chose to continue, not to accept any end but her own. . . .on her own terms. That was true strength. . . . .true transcendence; as the whip latched around his body he already knew the outcome his lips already moving to form the words in the little time he had left


Thank--



The explosion muffled the rest of his words, sand and smoke billowing out like a nuclear explosion as a clouds of the stuff rose into the sky. Though the sand would quickly fall the dust and smoke lingered momentarily before revealing a waist without an upper body, spatters of black blood stained the area around them for a few moments before once again glooping together to form the vasto's upper body, without a word it would slide itself back onto the waist as though he were some weird doll being toyed with.


But there was a tangible difference now, were Tahliah attentive enough she would notice the hollowness in the eyes, the hollowness of a vessel devoid of life. . . .devoid of soul. The corpse would fall to its knees, leaning . . . .rather falling on its back as it stared emptily into the sky.

Nothing but an empty husk. 

There was a strange irony to be had here, for but a few moments ago she was the empty husk, fighting against an inevitable end, but in her acceptance of it it had lost its sting.  . . .its power. Now he stood, rather lay, a prize for her efforts but also a warning of what she may become lest she forget what she learned today. Though Anoobis could say nothing, for the void had indeed claimed his soul, his body would say all that he needed to say.