[PM] [Hueco Mundo] Week 203: The Only Freedom

[swaswj]

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This is for all shinigami in Hueco Mundo.

If it's still unclear: there never were any Espada. Every attack they delivered was in reality an attack from the other members of the group. Everyone was fighting one another.

During that loss of the senses, time and distance also lost their meaning. All four groups are now dead center of the 50km stretch of HM they were meant to scour.

The Only Freedom
​

In the Hollow World, the limitless pristine sands stretched on to infinity, filled with loss and anguish, with rage and hatred, with sin and remorse. Those souls that were lost to chaos, engulfed by the pain of eternal hunger, crawled and ran and flew through the barren landscape. This empty world fully exemplified the greatest fear of any of the hollows that roamed its expansive sands: the fear of wasting away, the fear of being swallowed by the sands, forgotten, becoming just another dune in the limitless, sunless void.

The souls that haunted these sands were cursed by obscene hunger... hunger for life, hunger for food, hunger for power, hunger for recognition.

Even the most desperate among those forsaken souls, however, went nowhere near the banquet that had landed in their midst. Shinigami, many of them, strong and weak, treading sands they did not know, searching for something they had never seen... but no hollow dared approach them.

The two scouting groups had begun far and away from one another, searching that fifty kilometer patch of sand for their anomaly. Two groups became four, desperate battle broke out. Fire and lightning, swords and spells. Cries of 'Espada!' echoed across the landscape as the soul reapers fought for their lives. Sand flew in vicious gusts, driven by flares of spiritual power, wild weapon swings, tears for the lost and determination to survive.

Then the fog began to fade, punctuated by the image of Kyuto with her sword against Mitsuyo's throat.

Gradually, the bitter battles came to stunned halts, blades pointed at one another. The shinigami -- all of them -- stared at one another in bewilderment, some curses slipping from their lips, some cheers of relief. The captains, in particular, looked about warily, but one simple fact was certain: the incomprehensible weight of sinister reiatsu, the malice of the Espada... was no more.

The young brunette looked around, trying to make sense of things. "What the hell is going..?"

That question cut short, then, as one final figure made its appearance.

Facing a small army of no less than three Captains, with over twice that many bankai-ready shinigami, there was one hollow that approached. Even before they felt its reiatsu, even before they made out its shape against the backdrop of the eternally twilight sky, there was no doubt. Hands tightened on weapons, chills ran through the hardened soldiers:

Vasto Lorde

 

[Several Zombies]

The aura surrounding the lone figure betrayed his purpose long before the being himself came into view. Following in his wake, scores of lesser Hollows brawled madly, reveling in the chaos surrounding the antediluvian beast as they devoured one another. Still, even these mindless beasts and the peak of insanity gave the Vasto Lorde a wide berth. Shinigami, Hollow; they were no different. Something antecedent, something primal inside of them screamed in protest as the creature approached – every instinct demanding retreat.

As the beast came into view, the extent of his form was revealed to the Shinigami – a dichotomy of alabaster flesh and ebony garments dotted his slender body, which was bound from the waist up. Steel pins jutted out from odd angles, securing straight-jacket like shackles to the beast. Like his kin, the creature was shrouded by a skeletal mask, though his appeared far more savage – holding an almost canid countenance. Around his neck hung a segmented manacle, capped with a deformed, blackened skull – its mouth hung open in an eternal scream. While morose, the Vasto Lorde's visage was hardly out of place amongst Hollows. Still, there was something different about this individual. Something alien. It was the kind of sensation that made your hairs stand on end – the feeling that there was something inconceivably sinister lurking just below the surface.

Stopping a fair distance from the gathered Shinigami, the eldritch beast met the gazes of each of those present – his sharp, yellow eyes boring to the very cores of the soul reapers.

“Shinigami...” he rumbled, in a voice so deep it was more felt than heard. “Is it you who dares interrupt my slumber?”

 

[Pho]

Beneath the soul reaper was his internal reflection, generated by the eleventh’s officer’s bankai. It was a scared man, holding his arms out either side as if to defend something, or someone. The truth of the matter was, Udo was scared of his comrades getting hurt, hence he threw himself into situations like this.

The bloodied shinigami shakily stood up, his forearms and torso now rendered hypersensitive by the loss of several layers of skin. The green-haired reaper expected to see Kyuketsu and the espada duelling it out in front of him, but instead… What the?! Ryoujin? Everyone else?

The same motley crew that assembled for this mission, plus a few cuts and scratches, stood in front of Udo, everyone looking as confused as him. Kyuketsu appeared exceptionally stunned, ignoring the banter of Ryoujin standing next to him. The spiritual pressure of the espada was gone, and yet the threat was not. In the shadows, the soul reaper felt a deeper darkness, something blacker than black, darker than dark, and filled with more malice than he had ever felt before. The looks of dread on even the faces of the strongest shinigami here suggested one thing. The approaching darkness was a Vasto Lorde.

Udo turned towards this ominous feeling and was filled with dread. The only other thing he could feel was the pain from the tattered fragments of the top half of his shihakushou slapping against his raw skin, so the spacemage promptly ripped the remaining threads over his shoulders, letting the tattered rags hang down from his waist. Udo had barely survived the previous encounter, so he didn’t like his chances…

The shadow gradually walked closer and came into view. There were countless minor hollows behind it, but the swordsman did not even give them a second thought. This creature looked like walking death, some tortured mummy risen from the grave, wearing the face of Anubis and carrying a screaming skull below his neck, surely signs of morbid worship. A deep voice, that shook the very sands and burrowed into Udo’s head, asked the shinigami their purpose. The spell-blade kept his amethyst eyes trained on the walking terror, and his lips sealed shut.

[365/365]

 

[Wayne]

Like the imaginary Espada, so too did Kyuketsu’s Ban Kai crumbled. His attention shifted not to his surrounding comrades, but to the ominous figure that approached so menacingly towards them. Though not of the hybridized Arrancars, the figure still held an unnerving aura that sent chills to both Hollow and shinigami within its presence. Such power was unmistakable. In all his years of service to the Gotei, this was the first time in which the swordsman came in direct contact with living, breathing Vasto Lorde.

Though his Final Release was suppressed and vanished, the Vice-Captain’s grasp on his zanpakutou remained steadfast and firm. His amber eyes shot directly at the monster’s own golden orbs, attempting in vain to peer into its demonic subconscious. There was a sharp voice cajoling in the back of the lieutenant’s mind, pushing him eagerly to rush the foul cretin. Foolish savagery was all it was. He couldn’t attack, not now when he himself could so easily be struck down by this titanic force of a Hollow.

As Kyuketsu’s face remained stern and unmoved, a shard of rationale managed to surface in light of his combat-drowned cognizance.

Slumber...? Is he saying we’re responsible for awakening him? But that’s impossible. There were already traces of activity in Hueco Mundo even before we arrived. That can’t be...​

219​

 

[Divine Truth]

Another phone post from work. I'll edit as necessary when I get home.





"STOP!" A gruff voice commanded within the healer captain's mind. Without question the final release of Makoto Matsumara shattered before it could even finish forming.

It was almost as if the clarion call of the leonine zanpakutou spirit had roused the nobleman from a deep, nightmarish slumber. But instead of waking up in the comfort of fine linens and feather down pillows, Makoto was welcomed by a peculiar scene indeed. He was in actuality within the blighted sands of Hueco Mundo. However, instead of being in the presence of the Octava Espada and a handful of fellow shinigami, he found himself amongst a moderate force of Soul Society's guardians. There was not a single trace of Barandilla Trueno.

But even in the absence of the dread Espada there was still a sense of foreboding permeating the scene. Understandably, confused expressions reigned supreme. What had they just experienced? As far as Makoto could tell, they had been fighting each other the whole time. Something had so thoroughly immersed their senses within an illusion, no, a nightmare. What else would one call the return of supposedly dead fiends?

A diversion.

In another moment it became clear what the hallucination was a diversion for. All eyes shifted as the air became weighted once more with a foul, terrible presence.

"Figures..." the captain grumbled simply, his handsome features betraying a bit of unease as he observed the revelation of the unsightly being. Countless minor hollows scurried about in the Vasto Lorde's wake, explaining their absence to that point.

"I'd hate to be the master of the obvious," Makoto began. "But I do believe we may have our work cut out for us on this one...."

[280]

 

[Albinocur]

Zakeriah was no less than enraged at the sight that now greeted him. It wasn't that he was unhappy to see his comrades, but anger at fact that the fight had apparently been little more than a ruse or else a tactic to force them to waste precious energy. Was any of that real or was this the illusion constructed by the Primera? He would like to think this was reality, he was having difficulty believing all their attacks and abilities were so completely useless...even those of the captains. Iblis shifted and whined in an expression of the zanpakutou's own agitation at the strange situation.

Like everyone he felt the hollow before he laid eyes on the twisted creature. A real Vasto Lorde...he had been just as surprised when they ran into the supposed Espada. 'Did he really just ask if we disturbed his slumber? When did we enter a fairy tale? Then again, this is as much a troll under the bridge as I've ever seen.' His anger cooled as he examined the alien hollow. With a flick of his wrist and an exertion of will his shield spun into existence.

[194]

 

[Redfin]

This was wrong, the mission, the fighting, the circumstance, the result, everything. What had happened? What had they been doing? What had they done?

Picca slumped forward onto her knees as the approaching malicious spiritual pressure emerged. Her breathing was rapid and deep. She curled forward until her head touched the sand. It was too much. All the emotions and stress she had been holding in over the long hours in the world of hollows had been released all at once by the shock of what just happened. She couldn't stand or even move. Her form was just a lump in the sands.

IMINT began to fade away. Her weary body could no longer support it. One by one, the cameras turned back into spirit particles and evaporated into the air. Picca was holding onto the visor tightly with both hands.

Stop! Picca cried to the spirit.

If you maintain my power for much longer, your body has a sixty percent chance of not being able to handle it, IMINT toned.

I dinnae care. No matter what, keep recording.

The cameras that had not yet completely disappeared reversed the flow of particles and reformed. They automatically reoriented to face the oncoming spectacle.

[202]

 

[Cad]

Ito Kurohashi had barely moved from his grounded state amidst the unraveling mind game. The walker was certain that, only a moment ago, a monstrous Arrancar had been standing there and beginning to wage battle with the shinigami. The reaper could hardly move, frozen in shock by the new enemy – the Vasto Lorde.

Amongst the grounds of the Third, the eerie man had overheard others speaking about the existence of a Vasto Lorde but only in the same way one speaks about the demon in their nightmare. No one was even sure they really existed – until now that is – and almost immediately, it didn’t seem likely they would live to tell of their encounter. The fear and awe of having his senses fooled so easily, and so clearly, hung the warriors mind in a haze of confusion. The demonic being lurched forward and the only thing Kurohashi could do was grip his blade tighter.


154

 

[Nutella]

Everything was daunting in the eyes of the young arcanist as she witnessed the series of events that recently unfolded right in front of her, which threw her perception of understanding in a wild disarray. She barely accepted the fact that they were under the mercy of the Octava Espada, Barandilla Trueno, who spoke of the horrors from the Fourth division's captain's fresh years. He, along with the Spellblade, had exchanged high-level attacks as if it were a mere Sai, or Geki. The next thing she knew, the captain, whose name she barely guessed with the number on his haori, was about to release his bankai. She barely prepared herself with the notion of witnessing a captain's bankai when suddenly, she realized that half of those were a lie. The team disappearing, the Octava, they were just a lie. Big bad lies.

Now, she was flabbergasted with the notion that the whole team had, in fact, been fighting against their compeers all along. She barely accepted the idea of such an illusion, and terribly irked by whatever power its head honcho had.

And this monster right in front of her auburn eyes, was the very epitome of their deepest terrors.

Even without a word spoken regards its identity, she knew it. She just knew.

The meager Kyoumon that she previously had with her would not even exempt her from the mercy of this creature. Its ominous reiatsu was oppressive, and its appearance alone was like a harbinger of death for her. The reappearance of her fellow arcanists did a little help, and Kyu's words... she was ambivalent whether it was an assurance that the last time was a hundred times more dangerous.

Kamenashi Yuurei stood there and prepared to defend herself should harm come in her way. Even as a first-timer in this sort of high-end riots, there was something entrusted to her. If she could contribute, at least a little, it was to fulfill the responsibility given to her.

[ 330 | 330 ]​

 

[Beaks]

"Form up around the wounded! Anyone who is capable of administering aid do so!" The energies of her Shi Kai subsided just as quickly as the assembled releases of those around her, and the cursed right eye was covered up even faster. There's too many of us here, I'd be doing more harm than good remaining at my full strength.

As the jagged hammer of her initial release returned to the sealed silver halberd, Tsubaki's left arm erupted in a dance of shimmering metal plates. Her Clairvaux held firmly between the enemy and those behind her, the Captain of the Blood Templar steeled herself. "Officers, on me." A quick glance over her shoulder found the ones she was seeking in a heartbeat, meeting the gaze of the others who shared her blood. "Shields out, form a barrier between him and the wounded!"

"No heroes today, Tsubaki." The mumbled comment stung more than anything, more than the thought and act of hurting her comrades, more than possibly leading the whole of them to their deaths. This isn't Tokyo. You're not going to be able to beat this one down with brute force...if he is what you think he is we need to find a way out of here. "Matsumara! We need an out!" The leonine iris met the blond Captain's eyes with a worried brow atop it. "We'll buy you as much time as we can."

[235]

 

[Code of the Noble]

“Tai…chou,” pleaded the wounded vice-captain, his tattooed arm stretched toward Senesati.

Initially the highborn captain stood there, mortified at Seitaro’s bloodstained physique. This was definitely not the time to figure out how he was deceived into injuring a fellow warrior, let alone his own vice-captain. Now was the time to call on the aid of the Fourth Division.

He whipped his head in the direction of the curative captain. “Makoto-taichou,” said the spell-blade captain as calmly as he could, “I am in need of your assistance.”

Senesati then turned his attention back to Seitaro, who seemed to be fighting for his very survival. Damn, how could I be deceived into attacking one of my own!? inquired the dignified captain.

Emotionally he was torn, but physically he appeared to be calm all while supervising each breath his vice-captain took.
Seitaro maintained eye contact with his superior. Even though Senesati did not immediately or openly apologize, Seitaro knew Senesati meant no harm to him.

[162/162]

 

[Nekomata]

Ilsa hung in midair, staring at the ghastly scene on the sands below her. Kyuto… was fighting Mineto? Had they all been fighting the young Fifth Seat instead of the seemingly invulnerable Primera Espada? The entire scouting force, including Kyuketsu’s team, was right here. A splash of red caught her eye, and another.

Shinigami wounded at the hands of shinigami.

What in the worlds has been going on here? She swooped down toward Kyuto and Mineto, still encased in hardened sand. Good, the redhead was unhurt. He was almost as white as the sand, though, and his eyes were filled with a combination of terror and self-loathing. Ilsa knew that Mineto had some confidence issues, but what could have… oh dear.

She had used her Shinri no Kayou on the ‘Primera Espada’. If they had actually been fighting poor Mineto the whole time, well, it was a good thing Kyuto was here. Maybe she would be able to put enough starch back in his spine for him to survive. Hinometori’s revelations had been horrifying for her even in the relative safety of Soul Society. According to the zanpakutou spirit, Shinri no Kayou was much like that, except compressed into the space of a few seconds.

“Ah, Mineto? If you had some… extremely distressing thoughts… just now, that was probably my bankai.” Ilsa gave him an apologetic smile. Well, as apologetic as you can get with white fire in place of eyes and a flaming greatsword in your hand. There were other things that needed dealing with, but the Fifth Seat could contribute a great deal if he was able to get past the shock she had inadvertently given him. Knowing that a battlefield breakdown wasn’t his fault should help. “Sorry, you looked like an Espada to us.”

Next order of business; get the accursed sand off of her. Now that she knew an Espada hadn’t put it there, Ilsa was a lot more confident in her ability to get it off. She concentrated, gathering the reiatsu of her bankai within herself as if to cast the most powerful kidou she knew… then forced it out.

Tenrai Chikaku couldn’t spare her the pain of overloaded reiatsu channels. A cry that combined a human scream with a glass bell about to break rang out as chunks of sandstone fell off her body, kicking up little plumes of sand as they landed.

She was still shaking pieces of sandstone off her legs when Tsubaki-taichou’s voice caught her attention. Ilsa looked over to see what the Templar Queen wanted and immediately regretted it. A Vasto Lorde? Oh, how lovely. We’ve already had Espada, sort of, so all we need now is a few Arrancar to complete the set.

Well, there was no help for it. Ilsa patted Mineto on the shoulder and took off once more, this time toward the captain of the Eleventh.

480/480​

Tech used

Used Fuubi to get out of the 'Espada's binding. Van, Berri, somebody please let me know about how much reiatsu that cost.

 

[Abbey Rose]

To his own surprise, Griffin was alive. He had completely lost consciousness at one point, and only the greatest amount of luck had kept him falling prey to a hollow tooth or mis-aimed spell.

That was not to say, however, that he was completely unscratched. His beloved Frekki Skinn was torn to shreds, small bits of flame clinging to it, and his arm, though completely paralyzed and unfeeling anyway, was similarly burnt, with black bits of skin climbing up the limb. He supposed that he was lucky that it was only that arm that had gotten hurt. At least, he would have supposed if the spiritual weight of a hollow had not crashed down upon him.

Breathing heavily, the Viking, coated in his own blue blood, forced himself up to his feet. He was not scared, even though the rational part of his brain told him just how little of a chance he stood, even with all of the other shinigami about. He was not worried, even if his history teacher had told them every day about the strength and power that the dreaded Vasto Lorde had at their disposal.

He was excited.

Part of Griffin’s old faith was rekindled then and there. The beliefs of Asgard and Valhalla and the great battle of Ragnarok were fresh again in his mind. The idea of fighting for his heaven was there, and this was a fight that had to be fought. If they won, they would be hailed as glorious heroes, with praises sung daily about them. And if they lost...

Well, the Valkyrie would surely take those who fought in this fight to the halls of Odin.

“Enda, Vald.” His blade elongated, lines of corruption dancing up the claymore as it moved. He held it one handed, his fingers clutching it at the top of the hilt to keep the movements as fast as he could. He was ready for this.

Glory or Valhalla, he was ready.

327/327

 

[Apeiron]

And of course, Haresuno had to stop himself from saying anything. Or whistling. Or anything that would give him utterly away for that matter. All he had to do was sit and wait quietly under a nice alabaster blanket, and not do a damned thing. The group of shinigami that were now facing the mysterious, and undoubtedly powerful by the reactions he was hearing, figure were going to need an out if they couldn’t settle things civilly.

Wait that meant he was plan "B”. Oh joy. What exactly was plan "C” then?

His brain continued to prattle on and on with his new-found sarcasm. Something Hayato bred into him to cope he assumed. He couldn’t blindly walk into things and not care about coming out of them. Iida and Ayumu were back in Seireitei right now waiting for him. Waiting to see him walk back to them wearing a pristine white haori and celebrating.

His one thankful prayer to the seven gods was that he wasn’t still injured from his taishuu. His reiatsu even felt different. Still corrupt and twisted, but not as defensive and untrusting as it had been months prior. He hoped that was a good sign.

Taking in another breath to steady his resolve, Haresuno kept his cyan eyes firmly locked on the scene ahead. There wasn’t a need for another person down there with power. There was a need to think outside of the combat. So he waited, and hoped that his suppressed power would not be noticed.

He wished he had the reiatsu cloak.

[266]

So, yeah, I'm here essentially as a reserve in hiding.

 

[Shadowthread]

Her mind was in an utter chaos, just now the black-haired shinigami had used most of her reiatsu into fighting against, what exactly had she fought? Shizuka's mind couldn't compile a logical solution to this. However, what she did know was that the reiatsu she had left to fight against something of that caliber wouldn't be nearly enough.

Death Rose really takes a lot out of me at this level... she thought to herself, to which Hangyaku replied shortly after. Oh my, this might be an interesting experience, if you can endure the surely to be coming destruction, the spirit mused back to its wielder intently.

Oh, shut up and let me try to recuperate my energy, and with this answer Shizuka didn't listen to any objections from her zanpakutou. Her form as if frozen in time and place, the only thing moving, was her shihakushou in the cold breeze of the nightly desert scene.


[155]

 

[Divine Truth]

rushed turn is rushed. *zooms off to work*

"Right, I’m on it,” Makoto responded to the Templar Queen. With little hesitation, the nobleman tapped the earpiece that was settled onto his right ear and placed a speed-dial call to the Third Division. Despite being in a separate space, the call connected mercifully quickly and allowed Makoto to almost immediately launch into his distress call.


"This is Captain Makoto Matsumara, the entire expeditionary force requires immediate exfil from Hueco Mundo. I repeat: We need immediate exfil from Hueco Mundo. We’ve been tricked. Matsumara, out.”


Then without another word, for a second time golden energies enveloped the form of the Matsumara scion. Once again he would call upon the ultimate strength of Shinka Kainyuu to afford the small army the protection and treatment necessary to get them all back safely to Seireitei. Or so he hoped.


"Kyuukyoku Shinka Kainyuu,” the healer captain roared. Instantly a brilliantly white circle flashed to being centered around Makoto’s feet and expanded rapidly outward to a diameter of 50 yards. From this base, a latticework seemingly made of light constructed itself into a dome like barrier. The air within the barrier was saturated with the nobleman’s reiatsu. But instead of weighing heavily on the many shinigami within the dome’s confines, it gently blanketed them with an unseen healing touch.


With the barrier set up complete, Makoto sprung into action, deftly making his way to Senesati’s fallen subordinate. The healer fell to one knee and quickly appraised the tatooed man’s condition. His face was nearly as white as the alabaster sands on which he lay--or rather, the formerly alabaster sands, as there was a gradually growing patch of red underneath the gravely injured spell-blade.


With no time to lose lest the man bleed out, Makoto placed his right hand over the wound and began to chant. "Chiyudou number fifteen, Pressure Seal.” The words brought forth a warm, blue-white glow to the nobleman’s hand as well as the wound underneath it as Makoto’s reiatsu began to plug the wound, halting the flow of flood. With that still working, the healer captain began chanting anew, this time with intents on actually sealing the wound. "Chiyudou number fifty-two, High Mend.”


The glow was doubled as he placed his left hand over the wound and began to coerce the edges of the grievous wound back together with the powerful healing spell. From here, the utmost of concentration was needed.


[400/680]

 

[Shun]

Sensing that Makoto would need some time as he knew from his various trips to the Fourth in the past months that healing could be a tedious process, Arashi Ryoujin stood next to the Lady Templar. Contrary to her orders, he held no shield out. Was this a sign of insubordination? Nah, but I guess I can't help it if that's what they think considering that illusion earlier basically ruined my Clairvaux, he thought. Rather than dwelling on it for too long, the youth held his released zanpakutou out.

It figures. You always do have the best timing, Tsubaki. Any sort of confusion, shock, or any other emotion he felt from being deceived earlier was long gone. The presence of the Eleventh's Captain along with several other familiar and notable allies quelled a good bit of the fear. In fact, his calm composure said otherwise. Was this a sign that he was growing as an officer? Was he no longer that rude, insensitive, and terrible soul reaper that had joined the Eleventh's ranks those few months ago? Or was this just plain stupidity? Although it more or less seemed like the latter, the pink-haired soul reaper wasted no time.

Summoning forth four katanas, he fixed his gaze towards the monstrosity looking down upon them.

"...Same old story I've been preaching, let's do this, Tsubaki," he said.​

[ 230 ]​

 

[Wayne]

Tsubaki’s words echoed through his ears like the scream of a hawk, piercing even the chilling atmosphere which now flooded the surrounding area. Guided by shunpo, Kyuketsu emerged behind the Templar Queen and beside Ryoujin. Detaching the shimmering Clairvaux from its token vambrace, the swordsman dug its pointed end deep into the soil in front of him. As an air of aggression began to spill rampantly from the lieutenant’s zanpakutou yet again, the young man couldn’t help but toss aside the blank slate that masked his countenance. From his features now grew a fanged smile, its gleam both eager and curious at what was about to happen next.

In light of this, however, the Vice-Captain said not a single word to anyone. Whether or not Kyuketsu participated in any sort of trivial pre-fight motivational talk, in the end it mattered little.

All the battle incentive they needed stood right before them.​

370​

 

[Rob]

“The power to halt the strongest warrior,” a solemn voice suddenly called out from amidst the lollygagging troops of the Gotei Thirteen. “Sing. Bakudou ninety-nine, Kin.”

As soon as the spell was underway to hit its target: the Vasto Lorde, Kaede had already set herself in motion by calling out her zanpakutou’s gauntlet form and was now on course to hit whoever felt like interfering her chosen path.

[68]

 

[Albinocur]

Zakeriah already stood at Tsubaki's flank with his shield to bear. Despite the Templar Queen's orders most everyone seemed to be in a kind of disarray save the healer that called for evac. It was just as well, Zack was itching for a fight after that illusionary confrontation. "I want that necklace, it'd be a nice gift to a special someone, wouldn't you say Captain?" Iblis shifted noisily and released a hiss of steam in its own anticipation. "Shame that head seems to be in the way."

[87/281]