Ride Into Obsession [Closed]

"Kill it." "I don-" "Kill it!" "Just list-" "NOW!" "Jika-" "KILL THE DAMN THING!" "I WILL! But if I kill it here and now we will bring the army down upon us. Just... It started speaking. I'll share words, briefly. If I can't get anything from it of worth, including just fucking off without making a scene, then yes."
 
"We will kill it."
 
Robert's hand rose, pressing the errant hairs back into place. Of all the things he had expected, an Arrancar throwing herself in to protect him was at the bottom of the list. Not that he needed help, of course. The Gillian were a frustration rather than a threat. Still, it posed a question: Was this a hunter claiming her quarry and scaring off the competition, or a would-be hero? You never could tell with these abominations. He had only encountered one of note, and that was a malicious child masquerading as a man. Power without thought. Blood-lust without reason. All the others of their kind had died before they could make an impression on him. True, the tales did speak of civil Arrancar, but then again, the myths spoke of amicable demons too.
 
"Yes. Yes I am."
 
His eyes ran a thorough check. Honestly, it wasn't particularly particularly abhorrent. She looked like a normal girl, blonde hair and a decent figure. As far as beasts went she was relatively attractive. The mask fragment ears were definitely not appealing, however. Nor was the Scythe. It seemed that Arrancar did like their grandstanding, both in personality and in weaponry. They were called Zanpakuto, yet Robert had never seen one that actually looked like a Zanpakuto's sealed form. A poor choice of name, all things considered.
 
"Blade, check. Mask fragments, check. In the form of ears? That's a new one. That would make you an Arrancar. Of course. Are you the cavalry? I hope I won't need these swords. I didn't come here to spill blood, but I can if I have to."
 
A sudden cackle echoed in the back of his skull. Of course he was amused. Only he would find Robert trying to hold a civil conversation with a pleasant tone amusing. Was that really what they had descended to? Decency had become a joke?
 
"We came here to spill blood and we both know it. So did she. One of us will die in the sands here tonight, Robert. But... I'll allow you to play your game, it's only hurting you in the end."
 
"Yes we came here to spill blood, but she doesn't need to know. I know you've never tried being amicable, but its far harder if the person is on edge. Besides, Nanami is right."
 
"Civility is possible even among monsters like us."
 

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“You can see me?”
 
...
 
“What am I wearing?”
 
His eyebrow's snapped up in confusion at the line of inquiry. What was she wearing? It was like bad flirting squared. Unless she meant it literally. Did she not know? Did she think she was fucking invisible? Clearly, the Arrancar all had mental health issues. First Souta the sociopath twelve year old and this woman who thought that being able to see her was something worthy of shock and awe. Its a miracle they managed to organize into any noteworthy threat to the Shinigami at all.
 
"Oh god. You got one of the defective models. Kill it now? Please? I'm not above begging."
 
"Oh shut up. Defective works better than rational. Let's just... let's just do whatever the hell this is. It'll either freak the fuck out and attack us or be pleased. Or indifferent. Or she might start speaking in Gaelic, I don't fucking know. I wasn't expecting this."
 
"Well, answer her already before she starts screaming for you to tell her what color her eyes are."
 
He spread his arms wide, his shoulders snapping up in a vain attempt to convey how perplexed he was at the line of inquiry. He took once last quick glance to figure out precisely what she was actually wearing, just to be sure. He didn't want to get a color wrong and have to fight for his life. It wasn't exactly a complex outfit. Revealing as hell, granted, but not complex. White shirt with black trim clinging to her breasts for dear life, tacky gloves, stockings, skirt. Schoolgirl cosplay with a splash of Gothic on the arms and legs. Of all the possibilities that floated in his mind as to why Robert was asked to recite this information, terrible flirting remained his last, best hope.
 
"Red miniskirt, black leggings, purple trim. White shirt with black trim, exposed midriff. Red tie above breasts, black fingerless gloves extending last the elbow with red bangles. Also, a massive scythe and a very confused look. I think that about covers it? It's a nice outfit dear, compliments your features well. That said, I don't see what it has to do with anything. Care to clarify?"
 
"What about her shoes? Do they match the rest of her outfit? Are they in season? We don't know enough about fashion. Quick, consult Liberace! This is beyond our powers of deduction."

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Most people didn't see her? They saw what they wanted to see? Huh. Well, considering he had definitely not wanted to see an Arrancar in the wastes, either this magic power of hers didn't work on him or it was just the expression of her insanity. He would likely never know which.
 
"My advice? Treat her how she deserves to be treated. 'No, mam. We don't wish to buy your empty tin cans. Yes the president is a reptile. Okay have a nice day!' and then move the fuck on. Or kill her. That works. Actually it works better. Kill her, please?"
 
"Maybe."
 
His shoulders lowers, arms closed in. The wide, opening stance was dropped back to a more guard, yet not outwardly hostile posture. Blades at the side, yet close, ever ready to snap up. The creature approaching brought unease with her. She was erratic and made absolutely no sense whatsoever. She spoke like Robert knew who she was, or even cared for that matter, while demanding to know who he was. It was surreal. He had come to either sneak into or besiege a castle, not have a surreal conversation when he wasn't privy to half of the subtext of the very conversation he was having.
 
"Robert Mühle. I run the fourth division. I'm here to have a word with your king. I can see you because I'm not blind I suppose."
 
"WALKREN. DEKHARR. SUICIDE MISSION. EITHER FUCK HER, KILL HER OR LETS GO!! Jesus Christ I will turn you into a vegetable if I have to listen to anymore of this. At least walk while you talk."
 
He tilted his head slightly, his facial muscles twisting and pulling like marionette strings as he made them dance to a tune. The goal was simple, do not reveal how insane she was acting. It was a hard tune to play, but he played it well. Jikan was right, it was long past time to wrap this up. They could talk while they walked if they must, but simply standing in the sand discussing what his eyes could and could not behold was a stupid proposition. He had far more important things to do.
 
"I'm sure you haven't done anything to my friend. If you had, that would not be a good position to be in, I assure you. But, no. I don't know who you are. Never seen you nor heard of anyone like you in my life and I certainly was not looking for you. The only Arrancar I was harboring any expectation of running into was Souta Suzuki and he's likely still licking his wounds from the first time he tried to fight me. So, no need to worry about me shoving anything in you unless you do something you shouldn't."

 
"I will be walking to Las Noches now, however, for I can feel my hairs turning grey as we speak. If you wish to ask me more questions about what I do and don't see I'll gladly accommodate you as we walk on the condition that you agree to keep that scythe where it is. Fair enough?"
 
A leap of faith and overconfidence. He spun on the spot and began to simply walk forward. The sea of menos was behind him, and his senses beheld only one more source of energy of comparable density. Surely, that must be Las Noches.
 

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It started small, a tiny dot on the edge of the horizon, before slowly rising like the morning sun. The domed castle of Las Noches grew to consume all as they marched. The radiant white towers that encircled its circumference made it appear as a colossal crown for some long slumbering monstrosity beneath the sands.
 
Beasts gathered as they marched, packs of hollows watched from with bafflement and scattered Adjuchas monitored from the distant horizon, yet none dared approach. Either they feared the spirit so bold as to walk among them without trepidation or, more likely, this woman was more than she appeared. Perhaps she was an Espada in her own right? If that was the case, she only complicated matters. Souta was simple to understand, he fit neatly defined labels and met obvious stereotypes; a rampaging monster without wit or grace. Destruction incarnate. What was she, though? Concerned with her appearance, almost insecure, there was a vulnerability in her reaction to actually being seen that felt almost human. Yet their conversation did little to elaborate further on her nature. Perhaps it was due to her own disinterest in him, though more likely it was Robert's growing tension; it was palpable, pounding in the back of his mind to the beat of his pulse. A war drum driving him forward.
 
Accessing the castle was disturbingly simple with his escort. The pair simply strolled past through the gates, walking briefly through a small stone entrance before emerging into the interior. Gone was the infinite night of Las Noches, with its dreary moon and its starless skyscape, only to be replaced by another warmer sight. The inner dome was a facade, a mere simulacra of the sky of the mortal world with its soft blue tones and radiant sun. If anything, it was too pleasant, too familiar, too soft. It was a deception, yet that knowledge didn't hamper the minor comfort it afforded Robert during his solemn trek.
 
Together the silent pair crossed through the sands, weaving back into tight hallways and construction. They wove and spun and snaked through the labyrinth of Las Noches until, finally, they reached the object they had been questing for: An unassuming set of plain stone doors. Yet beyond was something more. He could feel it writhing. Not Reiatsu, no, but something new. Something alien. His hand graced the handle, but it squirmed under his touch, twisting and pulling like a snake as it tried to escape his shaking grasp.
 
A voice rang to life in the back of his mind. Silent at first, then swelling ever louder. Bolstered by some fool confidence as it confided its message. Run. Beyond those doors is death and ruin. Life is worth more than this, even at Jikan's mercy. Don't throw it away for Walkren or Yuki or anyone else. Cling to it, kick and scream, howl in anger. Run, and live. The voice stunned Robert, he better than most knew the sensation of having inner demons. Jikan was a monster that poked at his every flaw and imperfection, weaponizing every doubt. There was something truly horrific in hearing the words fall, not with the twisted voice of Jikan, but with Roberts own tongue.
 
It hit him harder than any blow could, the wind escaping from his lungs as he realized what the voice was. What it had always been. Fear. The coward's emotion, the weakest of all feelings. It was the survival instinct of pathetic wretches who could not handle the way life was, who could not rise up and fight for what was theirs, overcoming any odds. He had never feared, had he? Or had that voice been there the entire time, suppressed and ignored. Had Robert been a coward from the start? He'd avoided the confrontation with Jikan time and time again. He knew what he had to do. He had always known. Fight. Prove himself the better, claim dominion over his blade. Yet every time the opportunity had arisen, Robert had taken the coward's way out. Seals, silence, drugs; any stalling tactic he could fathom had come before confrontation. And now here he was, shaking like a coward.
 
"No. You are many things, Robert, but you are not a coward. Yes, you are afraid. Yes, it is justified. But we both know you will cross that precipice and open the door."
 
"Why?" A simple response, spoken aloud for all to hear.
 
"Because you are not a coward."
 
Synthetic flesh rose to wipe away a single lingering tear from his eye. He was right. Robert wasn't a coward. A coward gave into the fear. He turned to his silent Arrancar companion, a half smile on his lips. He closed the gap in an instant, his hand cradling the small of her back as his lips met hers. It was a second's reprieve from the world to come, and one last taste of happiness. Yet as soon as the embrace had started, it ended. His hand grasped the handle and gave it one firm twist, all trace of his tremor gone.
 
--
 
"Erasmus, I presume? Please pardon the interruption."

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It had all been silent at first. The usual cacophony of ungodly noise - Hollow scurrying through the hallways, slavering jaws squelching into dead flesh, cracking footsteps and clashing swords, every single sound the evidence of Las Noches working as it should, all of it blending into a white noise that Erasmus had grown used to as easily as he had become accustomed to the silence. Until the spark of a being that did not belong crossed the line between wastes and hell. It was interesting to note the presence of Evelynn escorting this anomaly and The King had to wonder why she hadn't disposed of him yet. Perhaps another candidate? Or had she desperately latched onto him as she did with every other man who was able to see through her natural chameleon-like disguise? Whatever her reason for bringing him to his castle Erasmus could smell the fear radiating from him like the stink of a corpse, thick and heavy with the weight of whatever mortal affliction had felled it.

Robert was in the cage of the lion and he knew it.

Both of them walked in silence and Erasmus watched them traverse the halls of Las Noches, winding with a troubled serpent-like suggestion and passing the monstrosities of the city towards another damnably transcendent terror.

Dark was the throne room in which Obsessions court resided, it's only source of illumination being the abominable crescent moon peering maliciously through the three large glassless windows behind the throne, each of them big enough to be doorways for something gargantuan and terrible. Those windows acted as a reminder to those who entered the throne room that despite the warmth and radiance under Las Noches' dome they were still in Hueco Mundo and still not safe. With the only source of light behind him Erasmus was shadowed by the back of his own throne, just a pair of thick war-torn hands clutching the arms of the seat of his power and large boots. All that could be seen of his face were the reflective emerald eyes peering expectantly at the door from pitch blackness.

Obsession was patient until at last the cyclopean stone doors were pushed aside with a giants rumble, the light from beyond slicing through the shadow with the fierceness of a righteous blade and the fuller of that blade was Roberts shadow as he stepped forward to meet the King of his peoples most sworn enemy.

What The King had been expecting was the usual headstrong youth that the Gotei's academies usually produce on a daily basis, it was nice to see that even in his superiority he could still be surprised by the lesser beings. Walking across his audience floor was a man just coming to the end of his middle ages, hair relinquishing it's color and it's bountifulness rather early. Erasmus could sympathize with the former. If nothing else could be said about the man he was definitely well groomed, everything was in it's place and there was a place for everything no matter where Erasmus looked. Hairs cut to an exact length, clothes pressed to precise proportions, the only thing that suffered was the mans posture though for this he could be forgiven. If ever there was a man in the Gotei who could claim to be a soldier based on appearances alone it was this one and with that he had already earned a small amount of respect from The King.

Then Erasmus looked at his eyes.

Green met blue.

And it began.

"You're not in Kansas anymore, Robert." Confident and commanding words echoed throughout the hall and in response the ray of hopeful light emitted by the open doorway was snuffed out, the huge slabs of rock slamming closed behind the Shinigami. An indescribable otherworldly quality lingered in the eyes of The King, behind them were memories and emotions that belonged and did not belong to him, as if he had stolen them from the minds of his victims. The King did not look away, his gaze slithering cold and slimy through the pupils of his guest and into Roberts soul. Probing. Searching. Knowing.

Standing to his full height upon the podium which his throne had been erected Erasmus peered down at the man who had entered his home, looking for motivation, poking at the fleshy parts of his soul for weaknesses. He allowed Robert to understand that something was happening to him, something abnormal and unnatural. The what of that something was left unanswered.

Ominous thumping clicks shot through the cavernous space of the throne room, each one accompanied by Erasmus' boot as he descended the stair case and gradually came into view under the moonlight. Hair a long mane of silver. Face a mix of finely aged lines. Clothes neat, if drab and limited to grays and blacks. And a grin that told Robert everything he needed to know about his situation. He did not belong here. He should never have come here.

He may never leave here.

"You're here to do what, Robert?" The King used the name again. A name that he should not and could not know. "Fight for something? Did you intend to fight me for this something? Because I'm right here, you've found the man you need to kill in order to accomplish your goals here in this god forsaken castle. I'm unarmed..." The King trailed off, finally stopping his movement just a few feet away from the Shinigami intruder.

"Or is that the thing holding you back?" Mist coagulated in Obsessions hand, flowing gradually and from the murky depths of that eerie white substance emerged the long blade of The King's zanpakuto. As thick as a mans arms and almost twice as long it was a blade that commanded, a blade that crushed and brought pain and a blade that inspired. It did all of this despite it's uselessness as a zanpakuto. The dull color of the grip and the rust of the edge indicated that the power within the sword had been lost years ago.

"Well?" He asked, holding the weapon out into the light. Even the moons rays refused to glisten along the metal. "I'm armed."

"Kill me."

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Throughout his journey, Hueco Mundo had writhed, every inch of it pulsating with life. The ground beneath his feet harbored hoards of ravenous Menos and the horizon had been ever littered with dozens of burning yellow eyes gazing into his soul. Even in Las Noches herself, he had felt the Reiatsu seething, it crawled over his skin like a nest of maggots. It was wrong and his body knew it, it screamed and cried out against the corruption that flooded his senses. Yet as the stone doors slammed shut behind him, it all fell away before an even greater force: Nothing.
 
The throne room was a void, a sea of nothingness so deep and so vast that it consumed any trace of life beyond its walls. It was crushing. He could feel it in his eyes and in his throat, he could feel it sliding under his fingernails like a needle and flaying back his skin. The shadows parted revealing pearly white fangs; court was in session. He had woken the slumbering monstrosity.
 
"My memory regarding scripture is rather rusty," He spoke at last, his voice crackling to life like a worn speaker. "But I believe it went... 'I go to the place of no return, to the land of gloom, of deepest night, of utter darkness and disorder, where even the light is like darkness.' I suppose that Job spoke of this place." His tone was horse and worn, yet determined, even though the words burnt in his throat and his lips split and cracked at their parting. He was alone in a desert, vast and endless, and before him stood the devil himself. A beast that could read his heart and probe his mind, that wore the flesh of man as a suit to hide his wickedness and tolerated no good in his domain. It was no wonder that even the light dared not enter this place.
 
"Breathe. There is no need to be tense, we keep our word, remember? Simply repeat after me and I will show you the way."
 
"Admittedly, I had hoped to attempt dialogue. I did not approach as a thief in the night, nor as an assassin through the window." He tossed the longer of his blades aside as he spoke, Jikan's words flowing through him like smooth whiskey. The steel clattered twice against the floor, then dissolved, leaving a small pile of sand in its wake. "But yes, you are armed, and yes, I will fight if that is what you want. We both know the outcome. I will die."
 
"So if that's to be the outcome, allow me to draw first blood." His blade spun in his hand, tip swiveling to aim at his heart. His second hand rose, grasping the blade to remove the last lingering tremor. "Trust me, Robert. Do it." The steel glistened in the moonlight, green eyes and white fangs reflecting off its dull bronze facade.
 
Robert exhaled once and thrust.
 
"BANKAI!"

-
 
The gnarled clock hand pierced his heart, and for a moment betrayal flooded him. All of it had been a facade. Jikan had wanted him dead and faked his commitment. Every promise was a lie, every assurance a falsehood, all just to lure Robert here to secure his utter humiliation, and he was a fool for having believed it. Then the blade crumbled. Steel turned to sand and in an instant it flowed, bursting like a geyser out of his chest. An endless stream of sand snaked around his body, wrapping over his robes and stitching together a ghostly Haori.
 
In his hand formed a hilt of solid gold, whose face held no blade. In its stead was a simple golden jewel, from which spewed a torrent of golden sand in a vague simulacra of a katana. Each grain reached the tip before falling, dropping out of the blade onto the once immaculate floor of the King's throne room. A small victory.
 
Robert's blade snapped forward, tip pointed straight at the kings heart. His resolve mustered, becoming tangible behind him. Tiny purple stars burst into life, flooding the chamber with radiant light. The shadows would be purged and so would their master; He would bring light to hell itself.
 
"Hadō #91. Senjū Kōten Taihō!"
 

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Walking into a cave with the intent of talking to a bear made for an incredibly foolish demise. It went against The King's aspirations for Robert to walk away with the thing he'd come to retrieve so a confrontation was inevitable, there was no point in trying to reach a compromise. At the very least Obsession could squeeze some entertainment out of the moron who masked stupidity with bravery. In mere seconds Erasmus watched the soldier's walls begin to crack, voice trembling like a frightened child as he recited verses from a book of lies. Did they bring him comfort? It was hard to believe that a soul bearing witness to the afterlife, such as it is, could ever find the strength to continue their religious fervor. How could you after everything you believed turned out to be wrong? It took Erasmus back to his past muttering fearful prayers before an unknowable god at his bedside, sweating into his sheets as he wondered if his sins were being collected and filed away for ultimate and final judgement. Thankfully death and the subsequent loss of those memories had solved that problem.
 
Even when Robert declared his intent to attack the position of Erasmus' sword did not change. Still held out into the moonlight, a void of steel refusing to emit anything but it's own ancientness. In the same motion Erasmus extended his other arm, a mockery of Robert and his religious verse, Hueco Mundo expressing it's own gleeful blasphemy as it shone rays of white mist down upon it's King. Then came that familiar shout of power, a single word that heralds the shattering of chains and the breaking of boundaries for a Shinigami, the roar of power that not even Erasmus' spiritual strength could blot out. All of it followed by a sudden silent gasp as everything ceased. Erasmus lowered his arms and glared at the golden sands pouring from the Shinigami and his release. The self mutilation had taken him aback at first as he'd never encountered a Shinigami release that required the user to harm themselves, but now that he was witness to the rapidly growing mound of sand on his floor he was aware that it, like most releases, was just an arrogant display.
 
"Is that all y-" 
 
Bright purple light burst outwards and threw the darkest corners of the throne room into existence as it simultaneously expelled the words of Obsession, mercilessly hurtling into him and congealing into one huge and ragged explosion of devastation. Nothing escaped the blast, no scrap of shadow was left whole and the entire room glowed a dazzling purple. From miles away a band of roving Hollow turned their heads in the direction of the castle, pondering the odd color emerging from the windows of the King's throne room with the same fearful confusion as citizens worried about the strange lights coming from the windows of their neighbor. As swiftly as they shot from those three gargantuan gaps in the stone the odd lights evanesced and in the throne room the smoke of the blast had yet to dissipate.
 
Slowly the shadows returned, every corner returning to the pitch and the ceiling once again hidden by darkness. A strange buzzing noise hummed quietly as of a hundred bees lazily beating their wings from within the gray cloud.
 
A heavy audible sigh emerged alongside the buzzing.
 
"Kido." The King's voice manifested, the haze ripping apart and dissolving into the atmosphere, as if even the smoke were afraid. "I never did like Kido."
 
When at last his face was revealed it was untouched and he was still staring into Roberts eyes through the smog, clothes unburnt and skin not even reddened by the heat of the spell, only the ground around his feet had been charred black, the scorches stretching as far back as the staircase that lead to the throne. Around him the air shimmered in a jagged distorted mess, as if blades were revolving around his body at speeds that not even the eye of a super-powered spirit could follow.
 
"You can't watch the lights up close without having your clothes singed." As the shimmering gradually ceased and the image of The King behind it began to slowly come back into the focus the buzzing died down until both Erasmus and Robert were back to square one. Staring each other down. Waiting.
 
"Refresh my memory; higher numbers mean bigger booms, correct? Perhaps it has something to do with my disinterest in the art, but I was never any good at Kido either. One thing I do know though: that's the most powerful spell in your armory and you and I both know that the incantations are for surprise attacks only, you'll never be able to say the whole thing while I'm aware of it."
 
"So what now?"
 
Raising the blade once again the tip was trained on Roberts forehead, the distance between them too vast for it to reach.
 
"Now your blood is absorbed by the sand."
 
A single monstrous shot of power fired from the end of the blade screeching horrifically, as if the metal had been stretched against it's will. Nothing big or flashy, just condensed spiritual strength bolting straight into the brain of Robert Muhle, parting the frontal lobe and severing any and all connection that the man had with the world around him. Empathy was lost to the man for that briefest of moments before his final demise loomed heavy over his heart. Then the attack, lingering at the front of Roberts mind, began to burrow rapidly, seeking to end the life of it's victim.
 
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"This won't even slow him down" Jikan spoke with a rushed determination that mirrored Robert's own. There was too much to say and no time to say it in. "Seikakuna jikan is still active. That pounding you feel in your head isn't a drumbeat or some lunacy made manifest: It's a metronome, a timer keeping pace. Eins, Zwei, Drei, Pulse. Just like the old days. Hit the pulses."
 
The sand at Robert's feet bled out in a flow of molten radiance, its form liquidized by the intense heat of the blast. It was awfully nostalgic of his battle with Lieutenant Minamoto, just Robert and his spells against an infinitely superior combatant, desperately struggling to find some way of drawing blood. The top layer of glass shattered under Robert's heel as he walked forward through the smoke. He had to see, to witness with his own eyes the efficacy of his onslaught. A drop of blood, a cut, a scratch. It didn't matter what, he just needed something, anything. A sign of mortality.
 
The smoke cleared, and the truth was revealed. No scratches, no burns, not even his clothes were harmed. What kind of monstrosity could take such an attack head on? Even without striking on a pulse, even without an incantation, a Senjū Kōten Taihō was one of the most deadly things someone would be confronted with, and he had simply shrugged it off? Lunacy. This was no man. Though Erasmus and Robert stood at the same height, eyes locked and blades in hand, it was only a delusion. Erasmus was not on the same level, he soared high above men like Robert. The king sat in his throne atop the summit of potential, no longer a man, but nightmare made material. Yet despite his nature, despite their differences, Robert knew he could be reached, be surpassed. That had to be the case for there to be sanity in this world. Men like Erasmus are not insurmountable. They are not gods.
 
The tip of the blade rose, tip leveled straight at Robert's head. Time slowed, but only for an instant. A flash of power rang out and his lips snapped open on pure instinct to utter words whose meaning he did not comprehend.
 
"Rewind!"
 
He felt it play out in slow motion. The attack entered his head like the blade itself, severing flesh and shattering bone as it rampaged through his mind. Every inch was palpable. He felt it travel every centimeter before tearing out of the back of his skull. Robert's body hit the ground with a dull thunk, crimson liquid flooding over the sand and broken glass. Eins. Zwei. Drei. The body exploded. Robert's lifeless husk erupted in a blast of sand, flooding the room with countless golden grains. They lingered in the air for just an instant before reconstituting, snapping back into a flawless reconstruction of Robert. He stood on the precise ground he had held as he fired his initial blast, nary a scratch on him.
 
His hand drifted him to his forehead, clutching the space where his head had been split mere seconds ago. He had felt the attack strike, felt it tear through his mind and rip out the back of his head. Yet he was alive. He had been given a second chance to climb the mountain. There could be no wrong steps now, and there was no time to look down. He could question what had happened from the mountaintop.
 
Robert's hand snapped up, fingers arched like talons. Five radiant points of red energy sprang to life. Tiny spheres clung to a finger on his right hand, each sparking and swirling like a Cero in the maw of a Gillian. Eins. Zwei. Drei. "Goshi Jūgeki Byakurai!" All five points expanded suddenly, blasting out in a thin cylindrical beam towards Erasmus. He was right, he knew nothing about Hado. Higher numbers were generally better, true, but it all depended on the caster and their will. Each spell could be molded into something great, and even the simple Byakurai could be infinitely deadly in the right hands.

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"Rewind?" The King repeated that single desperate word, tilting his head as he bore witness to the fading life of his enemy. A pondering expression furrowed his brow and pouted his lip as the body, now nothing more than a fleshy sack of meat, flopped stupidly to the ground and lay in a pathetically sad heap. Perhaps Robert had been trying to counter the attack and discovered too late that it was too much for him to achieve, the connection between his soul and Erasmus' had been severed before Erasmus could shift his focus from the past to the present, so whatever was running through the Shinigami's mind at the time would forever remain a mystery. Well, it didn't matter now. Robert had achieved the final rest and wouldn't be coming back.
 
"Clean this mess up, the poor sod's bleeding all over my floor." Turning on his heel Erasmus snapped his fist down upon the hilt of the blade, it's form cracking beneath his fingers and drifting off back into the smoke from whence it had came. From the shadows emerged Arrancar and barely humanoid Hollow dressed in stark seamless white outfits all scurrying like ants towards the corpse of the intruder, all of them called by their King's command. Where they stopped in fright however, torn between obeying commands and saving their own lives Erasmus continued to stroll back over the charred ground, his boots emitting more clunking clicks. So sure was he that he had obliterated his opponent that he wasn't paying attention to the new spark of life within Roberts soul, nor the slowly growing well of power that wafted from his limbs. The sounds of shifting sand, to the King, were merely the soft noises of a dead man being shuffled away. Not until the scarlet light heralded the arrival of something grander than even those purple spears did he stop, but by the time he turned it was too late.
 
Snarling features lit up with a crimson hue as the altered Byakurai blazed a trail through the sky, branding itself to his back and bursting in a great wall of fire that engulfed the entirety of his vision. All he could see were the lapping red flames and the shadowy figures of his servants beyond who all looked on in horror as their master was consumed by spiritual retribution. This time he hadn't erected any barriers, the kido struck the King square in the back forcing him to hunch over as the heat wracked his hierro hardened body. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he endured, no sound but the frustrated growling of a beast emerging from his lips garbled by the roaring of the inferno.
 
Pushing back against the power of the spell Erasmus straightened himself out, forced his back to temper itself back into position and allowed the flames to burn their course, diluting them with his own spiritual power until all that remained were black strips of incinerated fabric clinging to a smokey but otherwise unharmed Erasmus. Most of his clothing had burned away revealing the full view of his middle-aged body, the muscles lightly hanging and the scars browning with the years.

"You ruined my suit, Robert Muhle. You ruined something that belongs to me. But more importantly," The King spun around, eyes ablaze with the ominous light of a gods morbid curiosity. "You came back from the dead."

"I've never seen a power like that before, how did you do that, I wonder." Every break in his speech brought the King closer and closer towards the Shinigami, the metal of his boots melted to the ground in a still bubbling pool, the bare feet of The King barely making noise as he took each slow methodical step. "Is it something inside you that keeps you from expiring?"

Reaching out with his power Erasmus tightened his control on the vibrations of Roberts beating heart, amplifying them gradually as they flowed throughout his entire mortal structure. Swiftly rising them, at first creating severe discomfort, eventually reaching a visceral crescendo until the violent shaking caused his veins to rupture, his organs to panic and tear themselves apart, each of them shutting down one by one like a complicated machine whose power supply was slowly being drained. Non-essential innards went first, then the essential ones and finally the organs that Robert needed to remain alive in the immediate moment burst in a sea of bile and blood, filling his fleshy body with liquid. Erasmus tore the man apart from the inside out and grinned during every second of agony knowing that the results of his experiments would lead him to answers for his meaningless question.

[Words: 781][GP: 15][Total GP: 53]

His head snapped to the right, blue eyes scanning intently over a small throng of terrified beasts. "Leave us." A single softly spoken command trickled from Robert's lips. He gave only a moment for compliance before his blade rose, the torrent of sand extending outwards in a sudden flash of fury. The largest of the Arrancar was split in two, collapsing into the sand with a dull splat. The rest of the assembled beasts turned and fled, scrambling desperately to avoid the wrath of the intruder. There could be no interruptions now, he would have the king's undivided attention until the very end.
 
A sudden squelching, gurgling ring echoed from Robert's abdomen. Each coil of his intestines split then split again, flooding his abdomen with their septic contents. A scream of pain escaped through a locked jaw as Robert dropped to a knee. It was as though the king had buried his blade inside Robert's abdomen, dragging it down to split apart everything in it's wake. What was this magic? Who could simply incinerate an opponent's innards with a thought? Energy crackled in Robert's fingers as he tired to weave a spell, but a loud banging noise ringing out from inside his abdomen broke any hope of retaliation. A spray of blood shot out of Robert's lips as he fell, hitting the sand with a dull thud. His hand snapped to his back, clutching the space where his kidney had just exploded in futility. A choir of small popping noises rang out as the force traveled upwards, exploding veins and capillaries and turning Robert's once white skin a dark purple. 
 
"Rewind." The word wheezed out through a torrent of blood, so soft and pathetic as to be inaudible. A worn hand reached out in futility, purple flesh desperately stretching with the last of its energy to wrap around the king's ankle. The monarch's heel slammed down, grinding Robert's flesh and bones to sand beneath it. In a few instant, the rest of Robert's body dissolved, black clad flesh crumbling to soft golden grains of sand. The mound of sand quivered for an instant before exploding outwards, flooding the air with tiny granules that rapidly reconstituted into the simulacra of a man.
 
Robert's eyes snapped back open to survey the scene before him: a dead Arrancar, the king in his ruined suit and blood on the sand. The truth of matters laid before him plain as day, yet it felt like a dream. He remembered the sensation of his kidney exploding, of his veins shredding, and his heart finally bursting. If he had not seen it before his eyes now, he could have mistaken it for a nightmare. Though maybe that was what this was? A nightmare made manifest, the monster from under the bed come to take revenge against the world at last. It was far more believable than the alternative; that the king of Hueco Mundo was a monster who could survive the strongest of onslaughts without a scratch, read the mind of his opponents and destroy their organs with a thought. If that were true, then the gotei would stand no chance. It would have already lost.
 
"I don't know what you are, Erasmus. I freely admit both my fear and my ignorance." Robert's tone was soft, barely lingering above a whisper as it bled out of his lips. His hand tore at his Robes, ripping away black fabric to reveal Robert's scar mangled abdomen and the synthetic nature of the arm that clutched his blade.

"You can kill me without raising a finger and that is something beyond my comprehension. I hope that fact brings you joy."

His right hand recoiled back, a bubbling white mass of fire congealing in the palm of his hand. His fingers crushed down into a fist, flattening the mass of fire out into a thin spear.

"But perhaps you too can be hurt. Perhaps you too can die."

He reeled back for an instant before thrusting forward, letting the spear of fire slip from his fingers and burst forward with a triumphant roar. He had to land the hit, to prove once and for all that Erasmus was not immortal. He was a fallible being just like Robert, capable of bleeding and capable of dying. There had to be some sanity left in this world.
 

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Watching this time, Erasmus waited with narrowed slits for eyes, peering with the utmost concentration to catch the slightest hint of movement or the smallest clue as to how Robert had defied death so readily. A small pang of fury snapped through his heart as the Arrancar servant was cut down. Replaceable and useless though he was, that servant belonged to Erasmus and the act of destroying something that he owned angered him more than anything. Even as the slowly growing territory of purple coloring blemished and grew against Robs skin Erasmus didn't look away, knowing full well the catastrophic phenomena taking place within the Shinigami's body; bones shattering, organs rupturing, muscles snapping, it only served to alleviate his rage knowing that the guilty party was being punished. But still no hint as to the source of that miraculous ability for revival.

Raising his foot and slowly pressing it down into the already mangled hand of his victim Erasmus thought over the significance of the word "rewind" and could only surmise that it was the command for Roberts peculiarly valuable power. It took only a few moments, The King watching stoically as the sands rushed around in a contained whirlwind of sentient reconstruction, forming the skeleton, the muscle, the veins and the skin of the man that had once been standing before him alive yet certainly not well.

"So that's how you do it." The words were a conclusion, an answer to the question and now Robert served no purpose. Curiosity had been fulfilled and all that was left was to dispose of the trash. "You aren't reviving yourself, not really. You're just rewinding time to a certain point. Fitting for a man who's decision have caused so much strife, wouldn't it be wonderful to rewind time like a coward and just re-do your mistake rather than take responsibility for it?" Admittedly Erasmus wasn't certain of the reason for the grown facial hair on Roberts face, nor the unexplainable feeling that the man had aged somewhat. Perhaps a side-effect of his power being used too many times for his body to keep up with? That kind of thing was common among Shinigami who didn't heed their own limits.

Then came the usual baseless confidence in the form of the usual senseless spiel of self-indulgent nonsense. Just a bunch of tripe about admitting his own ignorance and fear without really addressing the main problem: stupidity. Such was the case with people. Always willing to own up to the things that don't matter, never really getting to the heart of the problem, because that would simply be too much to admit. Better save face and provide a scapegoat than say anything truly substantial. A soldier Rob may be, but enlightened he was not. Such was the common saying that madness is the act of repeating the same action and expecting different results; Robert crafted yet another spell to hurl at his adversary. Could it be that rewinding time also affected his mind and not just his body? Had he forgotten about his previous spells? It would make sense given his ludicrous conduct.

In response all Obsession could find the strength for in the face of such an imbecile was to stare directly into the shaft of the angelic spear clutched between Rob's shaking fingers, raise an eyebrow and ask a single question.

"Really?"

The world went white.

The last thing Erasmus recalled witnessing was the movement of Roberts uniform and the way his skin stretched taut with each harrowed shift of his muscles. Then... White. Blinking did nothing to expel that stupid color. Feeling his spine arch back and his head fly towards the throne Erasmus planted his feet firmly into the ground to avoid falling over, vision still a void of radiant infernal absence. Hot red pain bloomed throughout his forehead, spreading down into his eyeballs and throughout his entire face as if a mask of daggers had descended upon his brow while the warmth accompanied that agony and the coppery taste of his own life liquid trickled through his lips and onto his tongue.

"You've got one thing right." 

Slowly The Monster King righted himself, tattered clothes drifting from his torso under the force of the movement. Blood descended under the laws of gravity and dripped from his chin into a small pool between his feet and the grin, that terrible ugly grin now red-toothed with blood, blossomed once again. Gradually the sight of the world returned to him and he was once again greeted by the image of Robert standing in the middle of his hall, legs shaking like the frightened limbs of a doe staring down the hunters gun. Even now those hellish green eyes were reading him, reeling in every scrap of information before the end.

"I can be hurt."

Vibrations built once again in Roberts body, this time concentrated into one single point. A deeply disturbing twitching in his eye as if it might pop from it's socket at any moment, rejected by his own organic flesh. At the same time the blood staining the Kings molars lit up with a golden glow, his entire oral cavity bursting with a regal light as the grand power of that infamous and horrible cero built. It was the cero that had murdered thousands, destroyed families and leveled almost the entirety of Karakura. So beyond the strength of regular cero that even the Arrancar had taken to dubbing it The King's Sceptre.

"But no matter how hard you or anybody tries I will not die."

Everything happened in one rapid sequence.

First the bursting of Roberts eyeball, it's juices flowing back into the socket and out onto the face of the man stupid enough to challenge The King. The sound of it's squishy wet form rupturing lost beneath the deafening roar of The King's Sceptre charging like a sentient beast from the King's endless bowels to lay waste to Roberts synthetic limb and the Zanpakuto it held, both of them rendered nonexistent. Finally came the hand of the mad monarch as it reached out and throttled thin air, manipulating the vibrations of Roberts body as it reacted to the pain wracking it's nervous system, those waves of motions directed up into his throat and amplified until the walls of the filthy pajama-wearing stick-flailer's throat were permanently closed and Roberts life was being slowly choked away.

"Your strange little power requires a voice command to work. So go on, say it." Gnarled fingers enclosed around thin air and the wind pipe in Rob's neck grew tighter. "Rewind time, make the pain of your eye and arm vanish like the pain of your own responsibility when you gave up those memories. I'm sure your old master would be proud of the Hado you've managed to fling at me, but it's a tragedy his pride would be overshadowed by the deepest shame of knowing that his student was too much of a coward to deal with something as basic as a rebellious Zanpakuto Spirit."

"You were too stupid to know when to stop then and you're stupid to know when to stop now. You will die here and because of your recklessness not only will you have failed yourself you will have extinguished any chances Walkren has of being free. Well done, Robert Muhle."

The small rasping gap for air was shut tight as Erasmus pulled his fingers into a fist and watched Robert die.

"And goodbye."

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When Evelynn burst through the doors of the throne room and glided along the reflective marble floor Erasmus struggled not to roll his eyes, instead shifting his focus from the dying man caught in his spiritual fist to the face of the woman swiftly and nervously approaching behind him. The King could feel the rapid beating of her heart and the increased rate of her breath, they had been muffled behind the thick walls of the hall as she stood outside and waited, building the courage to interrupt the King as he entertained Robert and his purpose for being in Las Noches. The gunshot clicks of her heels echoed throughout the vast room bringing the sounds of war to that space, a war without sides, merely guns firing in and from every direction imaginable. 

"You didn't have to wait outside." Erasmus spoke a courtesy, it's only purpose being to let Evelynn know that he had been aware of her presence through those walls since the beginning. 

Though The King found her request ludicrous he did as he was so humbly asked, releasing that mental grip on Roberts throat and allowing him to suck in precious delicious air once more, the hand that had been the catalyst for that control dropped to the side of his torso while the other hand rose out to his side. It took a moment, Erasmus using those seconds to find Evelynns eyes and stare into them silently, but eventually a servant rushed from the shadows once more and filled her King's open palm with a small square of cloth. Wiping the blood that stained his entire face revealed that the attack Robert had launched had struck Erasmus just over his right eye, the wound by no means serious, but blood tended to pulse profusely from such places making the injury look worse than it was. Erasmus held the cloth there to stem the flow and the servant bowed before scampering back off into the darkness. No words were exchanged in that display, Erasmus only listened and watched Evelynn silently as she explained her situation to him.

"I see." Were his only words upon the completion of her case and then his eyes flicked back over to Robert, as if considering something. Green met blue once more and this time Robert was made fully aware of what was happening as Erasmus searched for a specific memory within the Shinigami's soul. Probing the souls of his important subordinates was something that Erasmus held back on, respecting their privacy unless the use of such invasive methods was absolutely necessary. Evelynn had been spared his Sight so far, she had better hope that she could avoid it in the future. Rooting around in the darkest corners and uprooting the guilt and the shame of man. No doubt Robert would receive his fair share of visions in the active exchange, but it was doubtful that anything he saw would be detrimental to Erasmus.

When at last the King found the memory of Roberts meeting with Evelynn he frowned, his cynical emerald eyes shifting back to the woman that had interrupted him.

"It takes a very foolish soul to lie to me, Evelynn. You of all people should know this." His words were that of a parent calmly chastising his child, soft yet stern. The gentle padding of his feet resounded in the hall as he approached the smaller woman, all but his dignity exposed before the entire room as the tattered remains of his clothes continued to fall in crumbling black strips from his body. A caring palm rose up to Evelynns neck, Erasmus' thumb tracing the line of her jaw in soothing repetitive motions, back and forth.

"I'm not angry with you Evelynn, there's no need to be so frightened. I'm just a tad disappointed that you've allowed yourself to be so easily manipulated by this man- In no small thanks to your own inability to recognize that not every man who can see you is special, not every man who kisses you means you well." Erasmus stared with concerned eyes into Evelynns pupils. "Did you not know that this man was here to take your work away from you? To deprive you of the chance you have to rise higher than you've ever been before? He may not have realized it, Evelynn, but this man was trying to destroy the very thing you've been working so hard to achieve."

"So..." The King trailed off, a wicked thought emerging from the depths of his mind as he gave his faithful subordinate a reassuring smile, lightly drifting his fingers through the loose strands of her hair and returning them to their place. "The last thing I want to do is traumatize you, this man may live." He pivoted slightly to include Robert in his scope of vision, looking at the man who's missing eye and arm were still numbing his body with agony. 

"But he cannot be free."

A small child appeared from the darkness of the throne rooms corners, running on her awkward little legs like a baby doe learning to walk. Long white hair swung to and fro as she approached the defeated Shinigami, clutching a small piece of red leather in her hands. She stopped just short of bowling over him. a radiant cherub like smile altogether misplaced in such a bleak and violent world. Speaking no words and conveying no messages she dropped the piece of leather, an eye patch, on the ground before Robert and spun around, silently running once more into the shadows. 

"My daughter has given you an eye patch for your missing organ. Wear it. From now on you'll be in my service, you're not to remove that patch or heal your missing eye until your life-debt to me has been re-payed Robert Muhle. You may come and go as you please, but know that your every move is being watched, even in Seireitei. If you say or do anything that does not please me we will be back here in this same situation and my concern for my subordinates will not help you. I cannot stress this enough; fail me and you will die. Do I make myself clear?"

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It happened in an instant. The shredding sensation of a dagger twisting in his left eye-socket, the snapping of synthetic sinew as his arm ripped itself apart, and a deep guttural screaming. He had expected it to be his own, but it came from within. Jikan was screaming in pure agony, a howl so booming and intense that it shook the fabric of Robert's being. Even the pain of his arm and his eye fell numb before the howl, and then in an instant it all fell silent. The will of the king reached out into his zanpakutō, ripping it apart from the inside until nothing was left.
 
The spectral hand wrapped itself around his throat and he fell, dropping to his knees as the cloak of sand dissolved. He considered calling out, trying to force out the word through his collapsing trachea and change his fate, but he knew it was a futile effort. He was going to die, and without his Zanpakutō there would be no returning. His good eye flicked up, blue staring into green as his face snapped into a wide grin. He might have lost, but Jikan had died first, and that was all the consolation he needed. Only a single thought remained now: How. Erasmus had known everything: His name, his goals, and his purpose. Could he reads minds? Could he hear Robert's thoughts, even now? Even if Robert could not speak to him, even if he could not shout last words for all to hear, he could think. If Erasmus was what he thought he was, those thoughts might even be heard.
 
"Gotcha, you son of a bitch. You're not a god or a devil, you're just a mortal." Robert screamed inside his head with gleeful abandon, hoping beyond hope that he was right. "There are others stronger than me, hundreds of them. If I can cut you, they can kill you. You will die. Oh, and thank you! Outliving Jikan was the best gift you could have given me."
 
His last cry rattled around in his head, the words falling on deaf ears. One by one, synapses flickered and faded as his starving brain screamed for sustenance. Robert's eye stayed locked on Erasmus' own until the end, until finally their light faded and the darkness claimed him, leaving only the wicked grin on his lips as a sign of his defiance.
 
-
 
He hit the ground, rolling onto his back out of pure instinct as his lungs flooded with oxygen and his eye snapped open. Deep, rapid gasps dragged in air and his violently pounding heart distributed it as fast as it came in. His brain sparked back to life and the light returned. Erasmus was over him, green eyes stared into blue and his vision drifted as flashes of memory flooded his still clouded mind.
 
A needle breaking the flesh. IV fluids drained into pale skin. A tube was wedged down his throat, strong arms pinning him to cold steel as they forced it in. A white mass forced itself out of a Shinigami's throat, bubbling as it twisted into a green trimmed hollow mask. White coats loomed over the masked shinigami's corpse, carefully avoiding the spray of viscera as they took notes on his expiration. A face stared into a mirror, scraggly black hair hanging down over a a glowing red eye and a worn leather eye patch.
 
Each flash came with pain, fear and something deeper. A dwelling dread of the darkness within.
 
Robert rolled onto his stomach, a shaking hand pushing off the sand and the stone as he dragged himself to his feet. Why was he awake? Why was he alive? He turned to observe Erasmus speaking to his stoic Arrancar companion with unveiled bafflement, remaining silent as the grace while the pair spoke.
 
"Do I make myself clear?"
 
His eye flicked down to the strip of leather at his feet and soft smile etched itself onto his face, followed by laughter. A deep chuckle barreled out of his worn lungs and out of his haggard throat. Jikan was dead, he was alive and all it took was his service and losing an eye? It was a joke, the funniest joke he had ever heard and his amusement was so deep and so palpable that it barreled out with unfettered glee.
 
Robert dropped to a knee, raising his hand as he stared up at the King. White fire bubbled out from his fingernail and wrapped itself around his thumb. He pressed the flames into his destroyed eye, laughing softly all the awhile until the stink of cooked flesh filled the air and the bleeding subsided. A golden string of light snapped from his fingertips, snaking itself around the leather straps of the eye patch and binding them around his head. Only once the eye patch was fastened did his gleeful chuckle finally fade.
 
"So, Jikan is dead, I get to live and to leave and in exchange you simply want me to pay back my debt with service? Well then..." His head lowered, eye drifting to the floor as all defiance and amusement faded from his being. He was not simply on a knee any longer, but bowing before a sovereign. Even though his loyalty fell to the Seireitei, he was not such a fool as to reject this offer.
 
"I am Robert Muhle, acting Lieutenant of the fourth division of the Seireitei, and I am at your service, my king. How might I serve you?"

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