"What's the difference between a King and his Horse? And I'm not talking about the obvious stuff, like one's an animal and one's a person, and one has two legs and one has four. Form, ability, and power, that's what's puzzling."
"If their form, ability, and power are exactly the same, why is it that one becomes the King and leads them into battle, while the other becomes the Horse and carries the King? So what's the characteristic that distinguishes these two beings?"
"There's only one answer..."
"INSTINCT!"
***
Anita's body shivered, feeling the traces of frost travel down her spine in small drips in the presence of something far beyond her understanding capacity. A sight she had never seen before, like a grotesque children's book monster given full form in the material world, scribbled onto the fabric of reality in light graphite pencil. Worst of all, it was right in front of her, overbearing in all of its unholy display.
A twisted visage deformed into a skull, hollow black eyes that bore no light in them, a gaping hole in its chest which defied the laws of human anatomy; for what imposed before her was nothing human. It was a scream, a cry, a defilement toward all beauty in the world; the face marred with an empty chisel. Whatever invisible cloak of pressure adorning its body was the worst of them all, forcing her to take shaky steps back from the repulsive feeling.
Something was heard from it—a sound—from the unseen depths of its unknown throat, the hidden world she couldn't see. It didn't sound like a growl, it didn't sound like a breath, and it didn't sound like anything natural, and neither did its permanent eyes flicker in any tangible way.
Unblinking. Unresponsive. Unchanging.
"I... I..." She could feel tears just barely well up in the corners of her eyes, the lids quivering in constant despair and agony. "W-what...?" Her elbows bent, hands traveling toward her chest as if to defend herself. The red-dressed singer was no longer present in her view, as the monster became the focal point of her tunnel vision, devouring it. "Please... please... please... please..." Her voice could only make out one word, mentally begging for whatever was in front of her to vanish into thin air, for whatever guardian watching over this dreaded world to finally descend and bring forth a happy ending—like those in fairy tales.
But the glitters and dust would not appear, leaving the universe's irreality to persist. "Please, please, please! Please don't hurt me...!" Anita could hear her knees buckle and fall when hitting the wall, her hands now moving to cover her face, unable to bear the unsightly view, and the unbearable pressure. It stared at her, unending, uncaring, with its empty eyes, those ebony eyes, ripped off, peeled off, unable to be seen, it was disgusting, disgusting, utterly disgusting!
Primal, it reeked something primal in the worst way possible, beyond a rusted steel grater flaying her skin, beyond tearing her nerves, beyond peeling her flesh, and beyond goring her body from the inside. "I didn't do... I didn't do any—I didn't...!" Anita pressed her back against the wall violently, attempting to merge with it, perhaps even phase through it to get away from the presence of that... that thing!
Bile rose up on her throat, nearly making her lurch over and spill the contents stuck swirling in the rancid soup belonging to her stomach. Heat flooded her head, swelling up with enough temperature to the point she believed it had become molten.
A primordial scarecrow stood there. Unmoving. Unheeding.
As if contemplating.
As if looking for its next meal.
As if to make a mockery of her.
As if readying itself to pounce upon a prey cornered and caged.
Its movements almost shuddered and glitched at points, disturbing its once still stature.
"It's... ah...!" Coherent words were lost on her, unable to form a full sentence as her skin had entirely morphed into goosebumps, furthermore bringing the winter's cruel claw upon her, scraping at her. Sweat formed on her palms, moistening her hands sickly, ready to form mold at any moment.
Something clung to her lungs, clinching it tight and squeezing all air out of it. Her unsteady breaths continued to go on damaged, making her face become ever paler from the strangulation. She became erratic as her knees bent forward, the bruises and dirt on them becoming more prominent, crawling into a ball of misery.
All movements seized.
She felt it. She felt it did something.
It raised its hand.
It raised its hand.
It raised its hand!
It was going to kill her.
It was going to bite into her flesh.
It was going to splatter her remains.
"PLEASE!" Anita cried, her vocal cords being ripped with her words, wounding the delicate muscle.
Its leg shifted, and its foot raised, ready to stomp out any relic of her life.
"LEAVE! LEAVE! LEAVE!"
A howl of despair was heard under the moonlit sky of Sal Viento, confined in the walls of rot. The same walls closed themselves in the mental world of a child, folding the very air itself, as choked gasps splattered with dripping tears became much more prominent.
***
Skadi watched the wooden door in front of her slam, the brown mold-kissed metal hinges nearly breaking off and tearing apart. The frustration she saw was palpable, as she took a small step back, watching the ivory graced thing move back, seemingly scowling while it turned its gaze elsewhere. Not toward the door it had once looked inside, it looked at its palms, its own body shaking, making her bear witness to the thing shaking.
There she knew, naught just the child fraught with fear and despair, but the beast wrought with the exact ailment; with no material medicine able to heal the spiritual wound. The twisted face on its features, unable to show emotion continuously contorted in ways which looked like a scowl or an overbearing skull of hatred. It was as if it could do nothing but express wrath, sullying the air around it with a tainting corruption.
"This..." It growled, still staring at its black-tipped claws. "I am not..." It repeated itself twice, its fingers still twitching vicariously, a demon's distress searing itself deep upon the pale flesh. "I... am... human..." Its voice was etched with the low screech of an animal, resembling a long extinct paleolithic beast with a shredded larynx.
There were audible whimpers inside of the house. A child weeped, calling toward a silent hope, toward a grandmother inside in order to help her, and ward off a monster from the bedroom, the soulless shadow altered by the room's darkness; to form a terrible imagination forged by silent minds.
It shook its head, placing a hand over its face as it stepped back from the doorway. Whether it could bear the cry of the child or not escaped Skadi's understanding while observing it in silence, her lips occasionally departing, before shutting. She saw it, turning its head around, looking at the world around it, filled with uncertainty.
She watched it tremble endlessly, night's chill seeping into its bones, shackling it to an unknown fate filled with chains.
She observed it attempting to make sense of itself, to make sight of every part of its arm.
She surveyed it pacing around, outright ignoring the environment around it as it moved across the street.
She analyzed it waltzing with a concealed limp, something fluctuating around its body, an invisible force escaping her eyes.
She contemplated it walking across the street, glancing at shattered glass, bearing a silent agony over the sight.
She followed it, while it scraped its clawed feet across the cobblestone walks, letting out groans, clasping at its face and staring upwards.
...It halted.
A clear mirror was in front of it, a clear sight reflected inside of the pane by the assistance of moonlight. There, the wind blew when Skadi's steps came to a halt, faintly gripping the reinforced hoist hung around her shoulder. Everything but the rain accompanied them at the moment when she stood back, watching it stare silently.
All actions, all activity, all behavior, and all emotion... had whisked away.
It stared, and it stared, and it stared. From thereon, it continued to stare. Its gaze was burning bright, yet no fluorescence was shown under the mask-like apparatus' two orbs. There was a lack of life, for all was stripped away cruelly in fate's dangling fingers propped just above its head, playfully twirling about in mockery.
A gaping wound in time formed, stagnating the scene, stagnating the time present in front of them. The clock waited for nobody, ticking away its foul hands piece by piece, inch by inch. When the salty winds blew once more, the white-haired woman took in a deep breath, and let it release.
She took a step forward, the wave's essence following her travel in a billowing tide, traversing the distance without any a single hitch. The small tufts of her dress just barely churned, a flowing black ribbon with thick crimson veins following her in nimble turns. Her long white hair, parted into two tufts of silken cascades, became one with nature's breath in tandem with the rest of her attire.
"...Ichigo," Skadi called out toward it, the abhorrent air finally escaping the scene. "You've become disturbed."
No response was given.
It continued to stare at the glass mirror, by the window side of a shop. The torn cloth upon its body twisted, the black fabric torn at many parts, and jagged at the edge like a blade, ruffled like the ebb of a chainsaw revving.
She stared at it silently.
"Ichigo." Only for the silence to be broken once more, her voice turning into a pristine blade, the unwavering silver light made to clash toward the piercing night. Her expression twitched, almost faltering from its unreadability.
It ignored her. Its neck craned downward, turning elsewhere. Staring at the mirror was no longer on its behavior. It stalked listlessly across the street once more, silent in its clawed feet, with equally clawed hands limping by its side. Its jagged teeth gaping from its gumless mouth remained closed.
Everything she saw. Everything she paid attention to.
There was not a single detail amongst its body that she missed, for not a single muscle's erraticism remained unseen by her surgical eye. Her vision had turned into a scalpel, digging into every aspect of it, liberating the hidden flesh coded with instinct from underneath its skin.
Could it lose its mind? Could it fall to its instinct?
The questions were lost on Skadi. All she could do was analyze it, as no words broke through its vacant state of mind. If they were walking through the clouds wherein this... thing... continued to be drifted away by the ascended moisture, then it wouldn't be out of the realm of absurdity. A creature... Was it a creature, or was it more than that? The question lingered persistently in her mind, attempting to make clear the being veiled by fog in front of her.
It could communicate. It could talk. It could grieve. The body it bore was sculpted humanoid, with the clutches of a seeming "mask" clinging onto its face like a hug. It had attempted to tear it off before, but to no avail, and hadn't been the most clear speaker. Though, Skadi could admit she hadn't initiated a conversation, nor had she responded firmly to any of its dragged words when journeying to Anita's house.
...Speaking of Anita, it truly was a mistake to bring Ichigo Kurosaki to her. Maybe if she had thought it through more, she wouldn't have brought misfortune onto that small child. It was... unfortunate.
***
Gloomy clouds colored in gray loomed over the Hollowfied man, his head hung low with a shadow casted onto his face. Ichigo Kurosaki could admittedly say he had been struck by the rain once more, helpless to stop it from flooding him internally. Ever since gazing at the two moons, he had tried to keep himself calm in order to not become ambivalent with his state in this world.
To be frank with himself, he was utterly lost. Whatever path he had decided to walk on after abrasively arriving into the sulfur pits of Hell was backfiring at him at the moment, spewing hot magma onto his body and creating an uncomfortable feeling, endlessly swelling. Once he was in the unclouded spiritual world locked away from his common understanding, and now he was in a clouded town on some... other planet!
No, was it another universe? What the heck happened when he had lost control? What happened to his friends, to everybody who had decided to come with him? Damn it, damn it... he was starting to regret ever dragging them into this, he should have warned them prematurely to escape in the first place. The only solace he had keeping his brain's lobes stitched together and not falling apart was that the bastard... Kokuto... a Sinner of Hell... had been latched onto the Chains of Hell once more, dragging him ever deeper while his friends were running away.
Ichigo did not blame them, they needed to get out there as fast as possible with the dangers looming everywhere, and he was the biggest one out of all else. Unable to regain control after falling into his Hollowfied body—sealed inside this vacuum tight chitin or whatever—the best option was to leave him behind, and take his sister out of that dreaded dimension. That was the ultimatum.
His gaze turned upwards, almost forgetting about the white-haired woman who had been tailing him. For a... no, she wasn't human, it would be accurate to say she was Terran. Terra was the name of this planet, a piece of given information drive piling him deeper into disarray. For people who resembled humans almost to a tee, Ichigo assumed he must, must be in some alternate universe in close relation with his own.
It had to make sense, and even the language the woman spoke before was in English! He had excelled well enough in English classes in order to chase his dream normal job as a translator, so he could tell the language she spoke didn't differ much from his own. Instinctively, his response continuously came in English after hearing her speak in that language once, and not once did he fumble back in his Japanese language.
Not that it mattered anyways, because the coherency of his words were trash at best. So, all he could find himself doing was think back to what had gone wrong with the kid inside of that house, and why the white-haired woman had brought him to such an emotionally volatile child. Honestly, the main reason was definitely his fault for looking like a disgusting monster, but damn... it hurt more than he expected.
Whatever. As long as he returned back to his human-looking body, Shinigami or not, then he wouldn't have to experience people being repulsed by his form. Strangely enough, the white-haired woman hadn't seemed too fearful of him, even if she was on a weary edge. Just a single glance told him she was strong, but not Spiritual Pressure strong, because this world didn't possess any Reiatsu or Reishi.
Turning his head around, Ichigo ceased all actions at a long drawn out road, being met with more monotone and decay. The environment howled, with jingles of metal clanking against one another, and then falling into a silent him.
He couldn't see any other people around this rundown town either. Where had they gone? Were they all holed up in their houses after the moons had come up, and the night had crawled in? It made sense, considering how that kid was holed up in her home in the first place.
"Ichigo." He heard a voice behind him, belonging to that woman in a red dress from before.
"What...?" Tearing away from his ruminations, and from the acres of time-ridden land.
"I've called out to you five times now." Skadi—the name of the woman as he had come to know—stated in veiled annoyance, keeping a trace of monotone. "What are you planning to do?"
Five times? A wincing claim. "...Nothing, just looking... around." He became more painfully accustomed to how his speech sounded, and knew it would disturb those with a faint heart more than it did Skadi. "I need to... return..." Ichigo already knew the woman was aware that he was in another world from the curious and war looks he'd receive from her.
Skadi gave a hum, betraying no emotion.
He wasn't exactly subtle when showing confusion, of this form even permitted confusion in his tone or face, when questioning about where he had washed up. "This town... city...? It's... terrible. Why are... you here?" In his view, her outfit entirely contrasted with the palette of the town.
A bright vermillion toward the dim hoar.
The woman paused at that, staring at him when hearing the hybrid call the place terrible. He wasn't wrong, but... "A mere wandering singer searching for her friend."
"A wandering singer...? Looking for... somebody...?" Ichigo found that interesting. What kind of wandering singer had a gigantic buzz saw attached to a stick and a greatsword in their case? "Then... that's... why... you're in... this dump..." His growls continuously made himself wince, but the woman didn't look a lick bothered.
She was spiritually aware. Hell, even a kid was spiritually aware, otherwise they wouldn't have been able to see him. It took some time for him to register that fact, but he did. Despite possessing no forms of spirit energy, the people of this world could see him as if he were just a regular, physical construct. Damn strange if you ask him. It'd probably have that freak Mayuri curling his fingers in excitement to figure out how this world's humans differentiated from their own.
That guy was always filled with scientific spirit... and damn, it was not the good kind.
"I have attempted to search for her..." Her voice drew out, perhaps holding uncertainty born in conversing with an unnatural being. "...By finding anybody who has a hint of where she has been taken to, but..." She paused, as if wondering why she was speaking to him, but closed her eyes and sighed. "Nobody in this city can speak clearly, and neither can they pay any heed to my words."
"They... don't?" Ichigo turned around fully, barely seeing the defensive flinch Skadi's index finger made. "Why... not? Did they... lose their minds?" He assumed she was excluding the kid he had freaked out back then, but at most, his question was a rhetorical one.
"I don't know. It's very likely."
"You... don't know?" He was struck with even more confusion. Okay, okay, so they did lose their minds, what the hell? What kind of place did he end up in? Couldn't this Skadi woman show more emotion? Or was she just as head empty as she... no, nevermind. That was a rude thought.
But would it kill her to show at least something?
"You said you were human before." Her words seemed to deviate from what they were talking about, perhaps to make a point. It made the other party follow along.
"I... was..." He was a substitute Shinigami, and was able to switch from his spiritual form and his physical form any time, mainly by utilizing a Gigai. It still didn't change that he was human. "Circumstances happened... I think... I'm not sure. All I know, is that... it wasn't... pretty." Getting his normal speech patterns out of this form was... difficult.
He once strove to remove the Hollow mask on his face, or maybe even tear the stupid horn off, but it all proved fruitless. He remembered Ulquiorra slicing it off easily—but maybe it was because he used a nuke to the power of two compressed into a spear to strike at it. Yeah, that was probably it.
Still, it didn't help his irritation. No efforts proved useful in getting it off, and he didn't particularly want to slice at his own horn with this woman in front of him.
"Then, can you theorize why?" she said, turning to the side and taking a glance at the structures protruding from the ground, none ever reaching the heights of skyscrapers save for... maybe a church perched atop an epoch. "Why might the citizens have seemingly lost their minds?"
"I haven't... seen them myself. I wouldn't... know..." Everything was interesting to hear for Ichigo, especially since it brought him out of the downtrodden reminder that he was stuck in a monstrous form. "I don't know... a thing about this... place either." Yeah, that was downplaying his cluelessness.
He knew nothing about this world, only its language of English... was it even called English here? Was he an anomaly? What was he talking about? He is an anomaly, but then why didn't this woman seem all that freaked out about his appearance? Were existences such as Hollows—or something similar—common here?
"We're on the same boat with that, it seems." Skadi felt her finger travel along the strap hung over her shoulders to keep her case from falling off herself. It was smooth in texture. "If you are unaware, this place is named Sal Viento, a city of Iberia."
...Well, shit.
Spain? Portugal? The Peninsula? Those were the first words and concepts that came to mind. He focused a lot in classes, so with the revelation the woman had given him, it had only further proved to him that the multiverse theory was real, if he was still disbelieving that he ended up in a different world. Which he was not disbelieving of in the first place.
He had already been exposed to spiritual beings at an early age, and spiritual worlds when he had reached the ripe age of teenagehood. So... maybe the fact of the multiverse didn't alarm him too much. He was more so ruminating over the fact that Son Goku or maybe even Superman could exist...
It would have been a fun thought, if he wasn't stranded!
From the distance, Skadi continued to watch the Hollow silently fume, with its shoulders imperceptibly arched upwards, and its head tilted downwards. Its movements were strangely human in a way. She had some suspicions toward its claim that it was human once before, but... it couldn't have been too far fetched.
Whether it retained its humanity or not for the time being, remained to be seen. If it was the latter, then the Abyssal Hunter would be prepared.
What confused her the most was how open and conversive she was to the monster, more than she was toward other people. She would prefer to believe it was because she wouldn't feel too bad if misfortune struck it—due to its inhuman appearance—but perhaps the sayings back in her quarters of a home long lost had finally come to fruition.
When battling monsters, one should see to it that they too, become monsters.
Was that it?
Was she currently holding onto the last vestiges of her humanity?
She didn't wish to answer it, and clutched her items tighter.
There was also the strange feeling emanating off of it. Despite the domineering pressure silken across its skin, from the distance she was at, it also felt like it was... a warm bonfire? That was the most bizarre part about it, something she couldn't help but question, to the point where she had almost thought her brain was tricking her.
Not long after, an uncomfortable silence barged in, with the only sound filling the void left behind by the two being footsteps. A soft one filled with a perfected stride honed into habit, and a rough one etched with an instinctual gait. The streets still remained the same, no matter the short distance being traversed by the both of them.
Becoming impatient, Ichigo was the first to break it. "...For your friend... did they get... kidnapped...? You said they... were taken here..." He remembered that part clearly.
Skadi paused in her steps, becoming silent. After a moment of deliberation, she spoke, "You... could say so."
Wow, he was right? "That means... you have... a friend to... save. Why do... you follow... me?"
"So you don't devour the city."
Was that her job to do so? He could admire brave people, but... "If I wanted... to do so, I would have... already attacked you... like an animal... back then or... already try... what you said."
"...There can be monsters who wear a guise over their true intentions." She knew it well enough.
"That's..." He felt a pang of frustration overcome him. Had the woman practically called him a monster? "What can I... do to prove...?"
"By not devouring the city." She said it as if it were the most easy thing, or maybe her blunt monotone was what gave the feel.
"I'm doing what... you're saying... right now..." He almost felt the urge to squint, but knew his form would just make himself look more vicious than do him any good. "Not eating... or killing..."
"Trust is not earned in a single day."
"Whatever..." As long as the woman didn't start charging at him and attempt to purify him like a mad Shinigami, then he didn't mind much, despite holding a few gripes with her attitude. Can't really blame somebody for becoming wary of an equivalent of a Vasto Lorde-class Hollow.
"There's... people...?" His attention eventually diverted off to somewhere else, when a different symphony of steps was heard, in vastly higher pairs than their own.
Skadi gazed at the same scene, toward the large opening at the center of the city. "It seems they're out now. You can see the people of this city for yourself, if you wish to validate my earlier claim." She found herself sniffing the air again. Still, no scent from the thing in front of her. Strange. Utterly strange.
She would have at least expected a rancid smell, like the terrors emboldened in water, but this strange creature carried nothing aside from that vague pressure. "They gather mainly during the night, but they're still active during the day at times."
"The citizens... you talked about... before...?" Ichigo perked up at that. From the side of his view, he saw people dressed just as raggedly as the child he had scared, unreservedly blending in with the environment. "They... really are... strange... but I shouldn't... approach," he mumbled, already coming to a conclusion with how they'd react to his form.
"Why not?"
"I'll just... scare them like... that kid..." The way the girl started to sweat, shiver, and claw at her skin when she stared at him... yeah, that was reason enough to stay away from people that weren't as steel-hearted as this woman following him. "It doesn't matter... if they're strange... people."
"Maybe, maybe not."
"Not everybody... is like you," he said, not receiving a response. "Then now I'll... just..." Ichigo turned, ready to leave. "Go. You talk... with them, and... find your friend. I need... information you... obviously can't give... and I have... nothing to give... you either..." He didn't want to think about his current state in another universe with the stress it gave, but he'd have to face it in bulk eventually.
"I wouldn't suggest that. They're staring at you now." Skadi motioned with her chin nonchalantly, toward the crowd of people gathered. "Take a look."
"What are you... talking about...?" he asked, but followed her sight anyway. Unsurprisingly, their sights were turned on him. Surprisingly, they weren't saying a word, or reacting at all. "What...?" He blinked from underneath his Hollow mask "You... you weren't... lying..." If he had to say, they looked like they all came out the screen of a horror movie, the same ones he would watch with Chad or Uryu during a boy's night out.
"Mmh." Skadi nodded. "Are you surprised?" She honed in on his mask to detect any emotions. Futile.
"...Seen, worse... to be honest..."
"Worse than you?" Skadi blurted.
"..." He turned toward her, watching the woman just barely twitch under his gaze. "...Just shut your... trap." Then wheeled back toward the crowd of citizens.
She watched him do so, warily tensing her arm so it didn't instinctively spring into offensive action.
Ichigo narrowed his eyes, attempting to expand his senses. They possessed souls in the same way that Skadi and that girl before possessed souls, but they were so different from Earth's own that he found himself hardly able to make sturdy comparisons. "They are all... staring at me. Focused. Did they do... that for you... too...?"
"No. They hadn't." Skadi shook her head. "They were more focused elsewhere rather than me. Someway, you've gained their attention." She took the opportunity to step beside him, still maintaining a good distance. "Even when arriving here alone, it wasn't—"
"Like... this...?" His face scrunched up. "Yeah... obviously..." Ichigo sighed.
The white-haired Abyssal Hunter took a moment to pause. Did it show sass toward her?
Without another word given, the Hollowfied man took a step forward toward the gathered crowd, still remaining as still as those Weeping Angels he had seen on television once before. He came to a man with long brown-rusted hair, with a cap atop his head, and bearing a coat which resembled rags more than anything else. He found himself frowning in their state of poverty, but not out of pity, because he was confident these people wouldn't want pity. For some people, it would just be disrespectful.
"...Hello, sir...?" Ichigo honestly felt unnerved when attempting to converse in this form, still fully aware of his... He'd just call it, "Vasto Lorde" form. It was the best degree of comparison he could give, especially when recalling the lecture Captain Hitsugaya had given him about the Menos Grande Class Hollows.
"This one is..." Amazingly, the man had looked him straight in the eye, his eyes peering from under his long bangs. "...Peculiar. Peculiar indeed." His voice was soft, far more than expected, and well-refined in some aspects.
Now here was the kicker, he normally wouldn't understand anything this Iberian man was saying, but Ichigo thanked whatever gods there were that the stranger knew English. For the other townsfolk, he doubted they did, so a jackpot had practically been hit!
"...Er, thanks...?" He tried a human response, scratching the back of his neck in order to appear friendly. Right behind him, Ichigo still felt the piercing gaze of Skadi, feeling like an animal under a surgical table. He didn't like it.
"Horns... two horns... A Sarkaz. White skin too... very, very peculiar..." The man's voice continued to drone on as his hands hung in front of him, dangling on a piece of invisible thread, and yet all the same—still held close to his body. "What brings you here?"
Something about his strangely composed words made Ichigo uneasy. In fact, what was a Sarkaz?
"I didn't go... here for any... reason." Ignoring all the other townsfolk rudely listening into their conversation silently, he kept talking. "Instead, that woman... there..." He pointed toward Skadi, making the red-dressed woman tilt her head. "She needs... to find... friend... have you seen... her friend...?" His words elicited a reaction from her, in what way he wasn't sure, because he was far too absorbed in the current conversation.
...Hold on, he didn't even know what description to give of Skadi's friend!
"A friend?" The man craned his head back, with feather accessories(?) falling from the temples of his head. "I know no friend... but you, you are... pale Yes, you are a... pale one... a very... very pale one" His voice drifted. "You cannot be a friend... impossible." A tinge of dangerousness became present underneath his tongue.
Ichigo was starting to believe Skadi was right. These people were totally bananas. Now, there remains the question of what could have caused them to act this way. "Listen... are you... alright?" He prayed concern was shown through his voice, but once more, he doubted so. Ichigo could hear his own words, it was obvious enough how they sounded.
"Devil... Sarkaz... you are a devil... what brings you to Sal Viento, devil?"
"What...? Devil? Sarkaz...? What are you... talking about...?" Okay, maybe he should have inquired more from Skadi more about the terminologies of this world, or maybe he should have asked this townsfolk when he first spouted it. Also... devil? Sounded derogatory as hell.
"Your kind..." His tone fell. "Is not welcome here... devil." The blank orbs of the civilian craned up, meeting Ichigo's face with hardly any reaction. "An atrocity like you... will never be welcome here."
Ichigo blinked. Once. Twice. Was he hearing it correctly? Had he become too docile to Skadi's rather tame reaction and response to his form—albeit wary at times—that he had forsook the possibility other people may not feel the same way? That girl was already the first sign, yet... damn it... how could he be so ignorant?
"Leave, devil." The man's voice came to a lower tone, a far cry from what Skadi had explained to him. "Leave, go back from whence you came. My throat grows... weary from repeating myself, so heed my words..." Defiance. Underneath all the mellow and gloom, there was defiance.
The Hollow's eyes twitched. "Excuse... me...?" Ichigo knew he wasn't the kind of person to take kindly to slander, but then again, it wasn't to the extent his empty stomach was boiling with instinctual rage. "What... gives? I know I... look like this... but I'm not... here to hurt... anybody..." He took the leather strap attached to his tongue, reining in this weird feeling.
The other townsfolk, once aimlessly wandering around doing whatever invisible activity their body brought them to, had halted. They all had, and now a plenty dozen eyes were trained on the Vasto Lorde. Blank. Empty. Devoid of esse. Although he wasn't afraid, he was definitely disturbed, an emotion which was also... strangely fading fast. As if his body was instinctually commanding him to not back down from the test of wits.
Instinct.
Instinct.
Instinct.
"Need I repeat... myself? Leave. Your kind is not welcome here. Devil." A modicum of clarity was gained in his tone, bearing hatred. "Disgusting, wretched, scrap stealing... devils, I remember when you stole from my cottage, I remember when your bands disturbed our town. Dirty... devil."
"...Okay, the hell's... wrong with you?" Ichigo felt something tick inside of his brain, leaning forward in order to meet the townsfolk dead in the eye. "That wasn't... me, and I'm not... going to do... anything like that...!" The volume emitted from his lips reached a few octaves higher.
A grating sense of instinct continued to scrape at his skin.
Surprisingly, the man berating him took a step back. With that, a chorus of mumbles was heard from the other people behind him. Lethargic, but still possessing some kind of discriminatory soul. How aggravating it was, making the stomach acids start to boil over inside his gut. He was used to being the target of mob mentality, he was used to being berated due to misunderstandings and the like, but...
Why was he so uncharacteristically irritated?
"Trusting the words of your kind... never bodes well. I ask you again, leave." A vigor infused with destined hatred was bolstered, mixing in with the now rising voices of the crowd, all a pointed weapon toward the Hollow.
Slurs, all denoting him as a two-horned devil here to plunder them their long extinct riches. Insults, although low, could easily be told from between their teeth. All of them coalesced in a single worded description, devil. They saw him as nothing but a devil, and could he even blame them for that? Have they ever seen the equivalent of a Vasto Lorde Hollow? In Ichigo's eyes, all the many had been woven into black silhouettes by his perception, with their gaping, spitting mouths, being the only clear sight.
Devil.
Devil.
Devil.
A devil to spill blood.
A devil to consume.
A devil to pillage.
Standing at the focal point, the treacherous voices spilling slander continued to echo louder and louder. Then, a single voice invaded his mind, an all too familiar one which had made his claws twitch, as if fiending for blood.
How could you let them say that shit to you?
How could you let them toss you around with measly words?
You can claw them apart easily.
You can slaughter them without a hitch.
Yet what are you doing? Standing as their object of ridicule?
It's not even hilarious, it's pathetic!
Now, what will you do next, King ?
A dam broke.
Spiritual Pressure flared.
"SHUT UP!"
Whether instinctively direct toward the voice in his mind, or instinctively directed toward the people, a yell boomed outwards. The wind shook, the leaves and dust flew, and the people found their clothes violently fluttering, with their bodies being pushed back from sheer force. There, lurched forward, was the Hollow, mouth open and bladed teeth unsheathed toward their vicinity.
Ichigo recoiled back, realization overcoming him. He watched the people who took the brunt of his wrath fall over, becoming domino toppling over one another. Thumps were heard as a few attempted to languidly dampen their fall with their arms, but from the grunts, it didn't sound like it had done much to ease their pain. The wind commandeered in his screech's trajectory finally blew the rest of its vexed-given life, leaving a stifled air.
He stopped, and so did his perception of time.
Terror overtook his body at the uncontrolled burst, when instinct had prevailed over logic.
With nothing to give or nothing to say, Ichigo turned around, body shaking as his feet moved.
Flashing out of existence, with minute static marks being the only indicator he had once stood at where he was.
***
Skadi rapidly blinked out of her stupor. She gazed down to her side, seeing the lock being undone on her case, and a hand just about to rescue into the crevice formed. She hastily redid the lock and pulled her hand back, taking one look at the crowd attempting to regain their footing. Her mind replayed the scene, the way the people of Sal Viento flashed their unwelcoming fangs.
Like it was a harbinger of calamity.
The way it repulsed, the way it looked almost hurt from their words, being something unacceptable in their eyes... felt familiar. There, her gaze turned toward where she had seen it run off to after its bout of unhinged anger. It was fast, faster than even her perception, to the point where she had to wonder how it hadn't produced a sonic boom as Gladiia would.
There was that strange pressure she could still feel, far more harrowing than before, but she could sense it. Although it was starting to dwindle, she knew exactly where it had gone, and she felt the need to see what it was doing now. A stray thought arrived in the process, that she should have directed him away from the citizens of this city far earlier, rather than being indecisive.
But alas, she couldn't turn back time now, she could only advance.
Her foot stamped against the ground before breaking off at immense speeds. The world around her blurred as she narrowed her eyes, feeling the harsh gale crash against her body from the instantaneous movement, making her way toward the "signal" she felt from it... or, he, Ichigo Kurosaki. It sounded like a male name, and it possessed a male figure, so she supposed it was a male.
The scenery finally stopped being altered when she had come to her destination. Turning her head up, she registered the environment surrounding her. Or rather, she focused more solely on the beach, just about in the general area where she had found him, the thing with a hole in his chest.
He was focused on the moon, his posture unreadable, his arms limp. No fog covered his figure, but they hovered around him like a cloak. Then, a right arm was stretched outwards, a recognizable jet-black sword appearing in Ichigo's hand.
The handle of its blade was held in reverse-grip, the moon shining its greatest intensity yet onto its body, the stage lights finally focusing directly to their target. A swift motion was executed, blurring to speeds she could barely see, clanging a visceral sound of chains rattling and metal slamming into bone.
Crack.
Once.
Crack.
Twice.
Crack.
Thrice.
Crack.
Four times.
Crack.
Ad nauseam, did it repeat, into a function stretched until eternity. Joyously, did the zephyr howl as the audience, clapping and humming toward the eager display. Crisply, did the cracks reverberate across the air, the tip of the brush splashing paint all across, filling the canvas with bloody life. Revulsingly, did the ingrained groans of a soul underneath woe a song interwoven by chaotic notes.
Yet did the audience no longer find joy, yet did the cracks finally seal, yet did the paint finally dry, and yet did the low-tempered noise finally come to an end; as a hand viciously grabbed the limb bashing against its own body, bringing the charade to an end. The lights of the stage dimmed, the two moons orbiting from above shifting their gaze away.
Slowly, it turned toward her, a low gaze underneath its still hollow eyes. Hollow, hollow, hollow, everything about it screamed hollow, from its hidden eyes possessing no pupil or iris, to the shell-like body it looked to be encased in.
Small rifts on the right side of its eye and its mask were seen, fissuring the pale material with jagged lines resembling a serrated edge. Skadi felt her fingers lock up further, restricting it from further bashing its own face in, as she saw the small trickles of demonic ichor drip down its cheek, all from the origin of the wounds. Their eyes locked on each other, silence reigning as the sovereign.
"...That's enough," she said, a low, apprehensive suggestion. Admittedly, the woman was never good at consolation, and neither would she admit to being able to accomplish such a feat. "You won't get anywhere doing that."
Her lips thinned, staring at its cracked face. No... was it actually a mask? She had her doubts, but she saw a dim yellow light shining out of the cracks from its once hollow eyes, and the way small dusted bits were blown into the air... it definitely felt like an ivory bone mask.
"...They... I was about... to harm them..." Its voice edged out, frustration becoming the most present it ever has been. "I have to... remove... mask..."
"Striking yourself isn't..." Skadi watched as small motes of steam and particles rose from where the cracks were, sealing it up. "Going to solve your problems..." Her voice drew out at the end, noticing the phenomenon.
"Those people... are afraid of... me. They won't accept... me if I... don't remove my... mask..." Its arm attempted to lightly shake her off, but she kept herself steady. "Or maybe... I will snap... again..."
"Bashing your face in will only cause more harm for yourself."
"Why do you... care?" Ichigo said.
"Harm without reason is pointless."
"And what... gives? You weren't like... this before..." Its words sounded distrustful toward her.
Skadi found the distrust rather ironic. Wasn't she the one who was wary of him? "Because you said you were a human."
He looked at her weirdly, as if he had heard the strangest thing today. Baffled, he was unspeakably baffled.
"I believe it." She felt a weight placed upon her shoulders start to life. Everything she had seen before, replaying in her mind constantly, deliberating in order to come to a decision, had vanished. She had come to her conclusion.
"You... what...?"
"I believe it," she repeated. "Is that hard for you to believe?"
He held an unchanging expression, but underneath the mask Skadi was sure there was some turmoil brewing underneath. Perhaps it was hard for him to come to terms with what he had heard after being driven away by prejudice, but the fissures upon that bone mask, and what she had come to see, unveiled what she needed to know. It was then she could steel herself to the conclusion she had arrived at.
He continued to be unresponsive, meeting her eyes. Only when his arm became limp did Skadi let go, watching it fall to the side and dangle, the blade he was holding flickering away.
Ichigo's body turned, neck arched upwards in order to witness the stars glittering across their own separate world.
"...Thanks."
***
Steps filled with the berth of authority trampled across the must-covered streets of Sal Viento, dispersing any piece of dusty taint which dared to coat over the once prosperous ton. Well, Irene didn't have much of an image on Sal Viento during the Golden Age, especially since it came far before her time. But just staring at the soot covered parts of the city, along with the molding moisture not even hidden in corners or alleyways—as they should be—an uncomfortable sense of uncanniness struck her.
A chord to her heart, playing the sound of unease perpetually. In response, the Liberi woman with gray feathers atop her head and on top of her ashen hair steeled her nerves, ironing harder than a blacksmith would to their most prized blade. To temper herself in situations like these was always important, a crucial lesson learned, and a crucial lesson put to practice. She could not fail. She would not fail. Irene would swear it upon her Inquisitor title.
With heavier steps she came to the center of the town. "Life" was bustling about in the misty area, where night had already arrived to make its presence known, with the celestial envoys representing it floating high above any Terran's reach. When she had come to fully register what "life" she was looking at, however, Irene couldn't help feel her lips arc downwards into a hardened frown. This couldn't be called life, not at all. If it was life, then it was practically a spit toward all else she knew.
A gathering of people could be seen, walking aimlessly. Corpses that could move and breathe, it was always an uncanny experience. The only thing they missed was the rotting flesh and peeling skin, and the Liberi wouldn't be impartial to calling them zombies. They definitely stunk, however, smelling like the only shower they had access to was the sea. Not that they even used it to shower when it was their only source, anyways.
Irene glowered at the group. Just their presence was enough to make her uneasy, with the way they despondently walked, hardly conversing amongst one another. She had received enough of a rundown by the Inquisition to know that Sal Viento had been cut off from the rest of Iberia for a good time now. What was most strange was how the citizens looked relatively... healthy despite it practically being inconceivable.
She had assumed the worst and expected the worst to occur before arriving. Half of her was relieved, the other half was unnerved. Did they establish fishing ports? DId they possess a large supply holed up somewhere? The dots weren't connecting. Unless food and supplies had come to them by some miracle, then Irene wasn't inclined to believe the citizens could have survived. Not by potentially scavenging food either, because of their current mental state.
Being abruptly brought out of her thoughts when somebody had bumped her shoulder, she turned around with a peeved disposition "You..." She watched the culprit—unresponsive as ever—just continue to walk. Stopping in her tracks and briefly checking her pockets, Irene swiftly turned back around and continued as she had before.
She hadn't been pickpocketed or robbed, so there was no need to pay them anymore attention. Results paid in attempting to converse with them had never amounted to much, and the only person she could uphold a conversation with was her Maestro. Unfortunately for her, they had agreed to separate with one another in order to cover more ground, not that she was too troubled with it.
For she needed to prove herself capable.
Irene eventually came to a large street. By memory, it was most likely the widest one out of all other sections of Sal Viento, and where most of the citizens had communed doing their... strange activities.
What exactly are they doing now? That shell activity? Irene squinted and crossed her arms. The rapier sheathed in her scabbard clicked a few times, her foot shifting impatiently on the ground after she had come to a stop. No, they're mumbling amongst themselves, much more than usual. What could have possessed them to do so?
It was a peculiar sight. Seeing these citizens speak fogged words to themselves or only toward a select few others was common, but to see them all speaking in tandem, about the same subject no less, was something inconceivable. She hadn't seen them act this way before, and it further piqued her interest. A passing thought in the mind's prairies came to cross, that designating herself to this post was not a bad idea.
The only words she could make out were... devil and Sarkaz. Those two were the most prominent, filling her ears and tickling her brain. That worried her, that potential Sarkaz mercenaries could have made their way upon Sal Viento, but it wasn't too much of a worry compared to other things. Dealing with a bunch of looters who scurried their way here, mercenaries or bounty hunters, had always been a common task she had to confront.
So what if it were a Sarkaz? A devil? They would be driven off like all the rest, and in some extreme cases, would have to forfeit their life.
"You." Irene stood in front of a citizen mumbling to themselves, making sure to raise her voice. "Answer me this question, you speak of a Sarkaz devil, as if one had walked amongst this land. Be clear and concise, have you actually seen one?"
"Devil... Sarkaz... they're here to take... to rob... to plunder... again, and again, here again..." Low words exited from their verge.
"...I take it you're speaking the truth, then? No lies? No folly?" The Liberi crossed her arms, tapping her index finger impatiently. "Your tone is making it difficult to tell, so I will take my role as an Inquisitor sternly and investigate this matter further, and then we shall see if your words hold any merit or not."
"Devil... devil..." More mumbles departed, toward heaven or hell she didn't know.
Irene huffed, walking away from them while shaking her head. As if following one hivemind, everybody mumbled the same words, or some related form of it. Questioning or pressing them would prove worthless, only serving to waste her time. Therefore, her body weaved a needle through the crowd, silently, off to investigate what the people were rambling on, and on about. Sadly, she didn't have much of a clue where to investigate.
Much to her fortune, she was able to find a single person acting far more positively than what she had previously dealt with. It was a small child in a haggard black dress, with the article of clothing possessing a red flower on it, producing an ambience far contrasting everything else around. The way her head nervously darted around, or the way she kept both her hands close to her heart, all supplemented a demeanor that told Irene everything she needed to know.
Changing her course, the Inquisitor made haste. "Child, you there!" She cupped her mouth with one hand and called out toward the girl, amplifying the sound volume.
"Ah...?" The child let out a meekish voice, jolting from shock as she turned toward where she had heard the call-out from. "O-oh... thank goodness..." She let out a breath of relief, for some apparent reason.
"Be not alarmed, I am not here to cause you any trouble." Irene came to a stop in front of her, moving to the side slightly as an aimless folk passed her. "You see how these folks are, correct?"
"Uhm, yes...?" She looked nervously at the Inquisitor. "You're an Inquisitor."
"Indeed, I am, and I see you can speak coherently compared to everybody else." Irene pointed out. "Can you tell me what this Sarkaz they are speaking of is? Preferably, a location."
"S-Sarkaz? The devil that came here?" The black-haired girl's eyes widened, and shook with fear. It was as if an ugly memory had resurfaced, chaotically splashing the once calm surface.
"Calm, be calm!" Irene placed a hand on the child's shoulder, who in response let out a small eep. "Based on your reaction, I am inclined to believe that there was indeed a Sarkaz who had caused trouble. Fret not, upon my duty as an Inquisitor, it is my will to vanquish any wickedness that strikes Iberia's land." At some points, even she had become tired of these practiced lines, but now was not the time.
"W-well, I've seen t-that thing before..." She visibly shook and shut her eyes, ebony bangs falling like curtains over them. "I... also saw it scream at the villagers w-when I watched from afar, and it terrified them..."
"How repugnant..."
"I didn't know where... it went exactly..." Anita shakily raised her arm, reopening her eyes and pointed to a general direction. "But I think it went toward the beach on that side... I'm not too sure."
Irene solemnly nodded, her finger rapping against the handle of the rapier sheathed by her side. Her gray hair bristled in the wind, before she had come to clarity. "Alright, I understand. I will deal with this matter myself. Keep yourself sane and safe, child, you are much different from the rest of the folks here."
"My name is Anita... by the way." The child, Anita, seemed to have felt the need to say that, despite leaking with timidness.
"I'll take that to note. Now then, I have an objective to fulfill," Irene said, releasing her hand and walking past the child.
Anita watched as the Liberi's figure departed in the mist, swiftly and without a sound. Her hands folded over each other, as she brought it close to her heart, taking in a deep breath. A low murmur was heard, praying for the woman's safety.
***
A gray interior with aching walls, green moss flourishing at some parts, and a blue tint from the moonlight was seen reflecting through the aged mosaic glass in some instances of the church's windows. Archaic seats lined with dust and sedimentary decay laid in perfect alignment with a podium at the front, forever steadfast toward their position. From there, gospel would occasionally be spoken about the tide's ebb, toward an audience of naught but one. Usually.
A single ghost clad in black moved through the area with wisping movements, each casual stroll rapidly disappearing from the view of any normal eye. Blink once, and her body would flicker off undetectably to the other side of the room, with only the whistle of air accompanying her figure. Now she stood at a clear window, staring off into the horizon where Sal Viento's wide range could be seen in full.
Yet as a trade, flourishing lights could no longer be seen. She had become relatively sick of it—seeing the constant monochromatic colors on a drained spectrum—and long since desired to complete whatever business she had here. However, patience was never one for brevity, and to test it during such a crucial time wouldn't do well for her sake.
From through the musted window panes, Gladiia observed the city of Sal Viento through blurred lens. There was a current carrying the see-through mist, and just visibly she could spot the small salt motes inside them, carried above by the constantly precipitating sea. Even the lingering taste—though rancid because of the city's current state—could be registered from where she stood, in-doors and unexposed.
The side of her neck marginally pulsed an irritable feeling, sending an eerie crawl down her spine. With her eyes narrowing in a tinge of annoyance, she reached her free hand, unimpeded by her lance, in order to pull her outfit's collar up. Ignoring the stinging sensation, her hand traveled back down to her side like a ribbon falling slowly. Her eyes closed, cycling serenity throughout, before reopening them.
Footsteps were heard, thus ending her time of peace. Those steps held a profane gait, slimy and indignant in her eyes. Gladiia didn't need to turn back to know who it was, the putrid scent was enough of a hint. There was something that dangled between his fingers, an object—a staff to be precise—of vain symbolism holding nothing but paperweight authority in her eyes. The rest? An insignificant seaweed-colored cloak hung over his shoulders, with its hood pulled over his head.
"What is it?" Gladiia spoke concisely, hardly giving even a side-eye toward the intruder who had sprung into her moment of peace. "Bishop."
"Why the long face?" The Bishop, Quintus, merely tilted his head with a "friendly" demeanor. "The night is much too cold for such unscrupulous attitudes, you needn't plunder any more warmth. Especially not with your tainted blood."
"The night could be colder. If this is enough to ail you, then I don't know what to say." Dismissively, she turned back to stare at the city.
"Hm, you feel it too, don't you?" The Bishop ignored the comment. "Two familiar feet of the same taintedness as you have walked into the confines of Sal Viento."
"...By what means did you come to know this?"
"Please, there is not much which escapes my gaze in this city," he dismissed. "Wherever the sea turns its eyes, so too do my eyes follow its line of sight. Such is our nature, shared amongst sisters and brethren." His hand holding his staff with a golden symbol perched at its top twinkled a few times, drawing across the air.
"How enthralling," she sarcastically commented.
"How enthralling indeed." Quintus lowered his head in agreement. "However. I say with much misfortune that something else... rather unexpectedly had come to walk amongst this land." His back turned around, walking through the interior of the chapel. "Two kinds, to be exact."
"And that is?" Gladiia turned around and raised an eyebrow.
"You already are well aware of one, but they aren't anything to pay much attention to. The Inquisition, as you know them." His arms spread, with his left one holding up his index finger. "The second one in particular... strangely enough, I have no clue at all."
The white-haired woman kept silent.
"I've come to feel it... this... strange pressure it emits, this... growling eminence that blocks the sea's singing whispers." The Bishop stopped at the other side of the chapel, head turned upward toward a sculpture. "It was swimming inside the depths before, and there I heard the swaying tides sing a somber melody, before a bright light as deep as blood had ascended upwards, parting the clouds and mist."
"Surely you jest."
"I am not."
"From this distance?"
"Yes, from this distance." Quintus bobbed his head up and down. "Wide, all-encompassing, wrathful, I could feel it all. A disgusting sight, really, no good could come from whatever has entered this land."
"You are speaking very vaguely." Gladiia creased her brows in annoyance. "Elaborating on this strange occurrence, yet not specifying what it is. Of course, that is unless you, yourself, are wholly unaware of what it is—despite preaching of your connection to the sea." Her eyelids squinted. "Unless, the sea isn't as omniscient as you believe it is."
"Nonsense." The Bishop's words continued to flow as a river. "Vagueness has an answer of its own. Although I am as one, and in tandem with the sea, finding your own answer is also a virtue. How else could I have come to the ultimate solution of the sea in the first place, if not allowing myself to become enlightened?"
She rolled her eyes and turned back to the window. Whatever occurrence the Bishop ranted on about seeing was not something she was aware of, most likely because she had been busy elsewhere.
Though, it was a curious thing to hear.
***
Irene found herself at the beach, starting to feel that presence become more prominent. Although she had only journeyed toward the general direction the little girl, Anita, had pointed to, the Liberi was starting to find that finding this Sarkaz troublemaker was going to be far easier than she thought. It was a revolting thing to concentrate on, but she stomached it and kept charging forward in order to not lose sight of it. Although it was practically a beacon, it was still one that was fading, becoming debilitated as time went on.
Eventually, the pressure would disappear, and she would lose track of whatever monster had stepped into Sal Viento's soil. Her hand gripping the handle of her rapier entered a vice grip, all in unison with the beach coming closer. Taking in a deep breath, she broke off into a sprint, and only when she made it to her final destination, did Irene slide against the ground in order to disperse her momentum. Her feet met sand.
She was at the center of the storm, now, and she finally came to the devil who had its name whispered amongst the despondent people.
Irene's pupils dilated, a course of adrenaline taking its toll on her body. Rapidly, her arms moved and flicked to her side in a perfectly practiced motion, leaving no room for failure. If she wasn't so concentrated, the Liberi was sure she would have surpassed her previous draw record, but now was not the time to celebrate. The thing in front of her was beyond whatever she had seen, and its presence was a scathing heat burning at her skin, making her sense of self-preservation screech in order for her to act.
A forceful whip resounded in the air as she took in a breath, holding the armament with two hands, an innovative weapon created to purge beasts who were a threat to humanity. What existed before her, fit the bill. Completely so. The two horns erupted from its head, pointed forward, and the skull that acted as its head, sitting as a symbol of its inhumanity—if the pale skin mirroring bones was not enough. At that moment, her breath released, and her eyes widened further when it turned toward her, its two hollow eyes gazing into her very soul.
Sharper than her own rapier, her sword made to defend against all sorts of horrors, Irene knew she had to pull the trigger. Quick. Quicker than she could have ever done before, quicker than what was required for an Inquisitor to gain their credentials. Many times before, she had been told by the High Inquisitor, her Maestro, that upon facing down a monster with no reason, gazing intently on her life, then she would need to act purely on instinct. A survival trait for both animals and humans, to preserve their life, and even preserve others if directed in the right direction.
She didn't need to think it over for even a millisecond longer, because an integer more would lead to her death. She was sure of it, lest all his teachings she absorbed be damned!
"H-horrid creature! They were all right, a devil...!" she felt her fingers press down on her weapon, the barrel poised toward the totem of death in front. "You will stain Iberia's land no longer!" For a moment's pause, her mind almost entered a state of hysteria.
Not a single other word was said as she pulled the trigger, a reckoning force flying out of the barrel in wings of light. A flash erupted across the scene blindingly, making even her squint her eyes at the incandescence it produced. The sand below her feet shot backwards, while the ones in front were no longer sand—as the substances had become glass entirely.
The two-horned monster simply stood there without much of a reaction. The woman beside it was about to grab the creature and pull it out of the way—with an unperturbed look on her face—until it had forcefully pushed her away, causing the woman to reel back from the force in a seldom surprised manner. There was nothing said as it continued to stare down the approaching cannon embodying the might of the Iberian Inquisition, a beam powerful enough to tear down streets as if they were sandpaper through a grater.
An explosion rang out, an expected scene for Irene. It was when the light shone brightest, proving its effective killing capabilities with a passing shockwave traveling at immense speeds, brushing against her own body and causing her hair to flail about. Raising her arms and taking a step back, she peered through a small opening in order to see the viscera of her work, in order to see an enemy of humanity once more torn apart by the handcannon.
"D-did it work? That must have done it! The Sarkaz..." However, she would not find the vision conjured in her mind, as if an ingredient had been missing entirely. Smoke billowed all across the scene, but it hadn't covered up what was underneath it, the monster she had shot at.
Glitters of shattered glass turned into glittering thin mediums for light to pass through cascaded off the air. They were snowflakes in a weather disallowing its existence, being the main figure point for attention. Like flocks of white geese underneath the summer lit sun, they continued to sparkle throughout the storm. Underneath it, was...
...A silhouette inside the hearth, painted black.
It was unharmed.
There was nothing on its hide that had been dressed in so much as a scratch or bruise. In fact, it hadn't even moved from its position, and neither had it raised its hand in order to block the blast her firearm had sent off. Her breath sucked in for the second time, this time not in anticipation or preparation toward an act of offense, but in despair. Not a single crack, not a single drop of blood, not a single recoil from its dreaded figure.
It continued to wordlessly stare at her, unbidden by anything, unaffected by anything. Organs of sight—if there were any eyes underneath those blackened depths—pierced through her soul unevenly, twisting in a way that had her guts squelching in unease. She couldn't falter at this moment, for she knew her feet pranced between the line of life and death, so the Inquisitor must act fast, she must act—
—The moment her hand moved toward her rapier in order to enter a steel-ladened posture, her heart skipped a beat. A final one, she would have expected it to be, a loud, rambunctious one, it was, sending a large amount of blood to her brain in order to flood it with action potential; sending her nervous system into a burning frenzy. When she had moved her hand toward liberating her weapon from its sheath, the monster had already acted far, far faster than she could.
"Wha—" she said, but completing a single word? It was lost upon her.
Irene's hand once grasping at the handle of her sword found nothing. There was a faint rustle in the air she felt, and her vision of the front had completely altered. It was longer standing in front of her without a care in the world or with a relaxed posture showing hardly any degree of twitches, had vanished into thin air in a whiff of black static. A blip in the air was heard, a silent sonic boom as it stood in front of her, with the Liberi's rapier audibly clicking off the sandy ground.
It was all done with movements she couldn't detect.
"That..." She wanted to say something, but when she looked up, her weapon lost and thrown to the side as if it were scrap, she found the words dying out in her throat. It stared down at her—with heated amber eyes—wrath's most favorable hue. "Monster..." By a miracle, she kept her body from shaking, but her pupils couldn't fare the same, unable to help themselves from quaking.
It towered over her, literally and metaphorically.
Those clawed hands laid by its side, unflinching just as it was before, left in a way like it hadn't exerted any effort in reaching unrivaled speeds. The silent emptiness coming from it was unnerving, revealing nothing but a solemn glare. A sheen of darkness in the light, blotting out any form of radiance.
"You..." Instinct bled from it.
She heard its words, a high guttural screech, sounding most in relation to that of... she couldn't truly make a comparison. What she did know at the moment, was that it possessed intelligence, enough to speak Victorian. It was also then Irene had come to the realization she still held her handcannon, so if she could lift the firearm and—
Blinking once.
Irene found her handcannon knock to the side, with her wrist flaring up in pain.
The Sarkaz-like creature's body had already completed a swatting motion, the entire process void from her perception. Once again, she had been completely blind-sided by the monster's speed.
With continuously widening eyes, she realized all her options had been lost.
Toward a King throned atop its Horse.