A black drizzle fell inside the vast laboratory, thick droplets of ink pattering across the floor. Within moments Nilu, Pesche, and Dondochakka were drenched, their skin crawling from the cold, sticky liquid. Their eyes shifted to Su Li, standing not far away. His body shimmered faintly, moving with a strange, fluid distortion. A breath later, both the drizzle and the subtle shaking ceased.
When the haze cleared, Su Li stood spotless, his white robes untouched. Szayelaporro's face darkened. Even without seeing clearly, he understood. The strange motion earlier had been a high-speed technique; the rain of ink he released had never touched the boy. His ability had been rendered useless in an instant. Shock twisted his expression. "Damn it… this guy…" If his secretion could not stain the opponent, then more than half of his power was wasted.
"Ah, it stinks…" Nilu wrinkled her nose, staring at the filth covering her hands and clothes.
"Well, I can tell…" Su Li said, holding his nose with a mock grimace. He was never concerned about the danger of Szayelaporro's attack—it was the filth that disgusted him. The black liquid looked like years of rotting waste compressed into ink. His eyes narrowed with open contempt. "Sure enough, people who wear glasses are never good. Always hiding a stomach full of bad water."
The scorn cut Szayelaporro to the bone. His face twisted, his tone icy. "You bastard… I'll sew your mouth shut myself." He raised his hand slowly.
The scattered puddles of black juice gathered, coiling together, twisting violently until forms began to emerge. Nilu, Pesche, and Dondochakka froze as the shapes solidified. Before their wide eyes, three perfect duplicates took shape—replicas of themselves.
"That… that's—" Pesche's voice cracked.
"Impossible!" Dondochakka bit his fingers, staring in disbelief.
"Is… that me?" Nilu's voice shook. The sight of her own image made her tremble.
Szayelaporro's grin spread wide, manic and cruel. "Frightened already? These clones carry the same abilities as the originals, yet they move entirely under my control. Now then—how will you face yourselves?" His laugh echoed harshly, but none of them answered.
Pesche glared at his copy. "Wait, do I really look this ugly?"
"I'm not nearly that fat!" Dondochakka whined, protesting even as sweat poured down his face.
Nilu only stared at her duplicate, her body rigid with nerves.
"Kill them," Szayelaporro ordered coldly.
At once, the clones lunged.
Nilu shrieked as her duplicate charged, the two of them chasing one another in chaotic circles. Pesche and Dondochakka staggered as their doubles attacked mercilessly.
"Why do I have to fight myself?!" Pesche cried, his voice breaking under the assault. The speed and pressure of his clone left him reeling; only now did he realize his own true strength, turned against him.
Dondochakka fared no better, his body already covered in bruises. "Why is my other self beating me so badly…" he whimpered as another blow landed.
The laboratory became chaos, the three battling their mirror images, black liquid flying with every strike. Su Li stood calmly at the center of it all, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He had already understood the workings of Szayelaporro's Resurrección. He would not allow his own body to be copied. His gaze fixed on the Espada, eyes sharp with amusement.
Szayelaporro met that look, his own face turning darker still. His abilities harassed Nilu's group, but against the boy they were useless. He had missed his one chance when the ink failed to touch him. Now, he hesitated. His mind churned, but his hands stilled.
The room rang with cries and crashing.
"Su Li—Jiang—!" Nilu screamed, tears streaming as her clone pressed closer.
"Ahh! I can't hold it anymore!"
"Me neither!" Pesche and Dondochakka groaned, collapsing under wounds. Already battered from their earlier fights with Szayelaporro, they could not endure copies that never tired, never hesitated, and whose wounds reformed instantly from the black fluid. They were overwhelmed.
Su Li moved. A single flicker of his step—
Puff. Puff. Puff.
The three clones dissolved at once into puddles of ink.
"Saved…" Nilu, Pesche, and Dondochakka gasped in relief, wiping sweat from their faces, still shaken by the brush with death.
Su Li raised his eyes toward Szayelaporro. His calm gaze cut deeper than any blade.
The Espada's lips curled into a cold sneer. Slowly he lifted his hand, and three small dolls appeared, each carved into perfect likenesses of Nilu, Pesche, and Dondochakka.
All three froze, dread crawling down their spines.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," Szayelaporro said with a vicious smile. "Unless, of course, you want them to die." He pinched the dolls of Pesche and Dondochakka with casual cruelty.
Blood burst from both their mouths as they collapsed, writhing on the floor in agony.
"My control puppets," Szayelaporro explained smoothly, "are linked to the originals' senses. Whatever harm the doll suffers is transferred directly. If you want them to live, stay where you are." He spoke as though savoring each word.
He then gripped the doll shaped like Nilu, holding its head and body in both hands. Nilu stiffened, terror flooding her eyes. She could feel his touch, his fingers pressing her skull and torso. As long as he squeezed, her neck would snap and death would come instantly.
"S–Su Li…" she whimpered, tears streaming down her face, her body trembling uncontrollably. Fear consumed her.
Su Li's brows drew together faintly. "So, you're threatening me?"
"Hah! Finally afraid, are you?" Szayelaporro sneered triumphantly. At last, he thought, the situation was under his control. If he could bind the boy with this, he could retreat and survive. That was all that mattered now. Better to preserve his own life than die here.
He stomped on a loose tile, opening a secret passage behind him. Escape was within reach. Yet before he could move, a calm voice stopped him.
"I don't accept threats."
A sudden grip clamped his wrist. Terror surged through Szayelaporro's body as he looked down, only to see the boy's hand crushing his arm. Pain exploded.
Hiss—
With a sharp tear, his arm was ripped from its socket.
Blood sprayed high into the air, painting the walls in crimson arcs.
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