Control The Divine [Robert/Erasmus]

Every single day there were idiots. More idiots, it seemed, than there were the day before and Erasmus couldn't figure out where they were all coming from or why all of their issues were so identical. It was almost always a petition for assistance because property had been destroyed, or proclamation of power to justify the appointment of a new Espada. Even down to the most asinine of requests, such as larger living quarters or noisy neighbors. Most of the time Erasmus' suggestion of "Just eat them." was enough to shoo away the most dimwitted, but there were times when more greedy individuals sought to push their luck. 

Erasmus' fingers were outstretched and held firm against the air, as if an invisible glass were clutched in his fist. Upon the audience floor a petty Arrancar who had previously insisted that he be allowed the right to prove himself after being denied for a role as the Quinto Espada was clutching his neck and flailing his legs with a face as red as a beet. The surrounding horde watched with cold judgement. 

When he was satisfied that the weakling knew his place Erasmus relinquished his hold over the worms windpipe and watched him drop to the floor like a sack of foul smelling shit. It wasn't long before the individual was scurrying from the throne room, hands clasped to his chest as if it would help to contain his shattered pride.

"Next." The King boomed in an audibly bored baritone and the collective shuffled forwards.

It went on and on as Erasmus granted this and denied that, refused that and accepted this. Eventually a shadow moved at the back of the group, catching the eye of the King as it moved through the crowd, not towards him, but to the side of the hall. It didn't take the use of pesquisa for Erasmus to be aware of Robert Muhle, the foolish snarls of the public told him well enough. It had never sat right with many of the Hollow that a Shinigami was now an Espada, though few dared speak of their dissent in Erasmus' presence.

More petitions were heard. More disputes solved. And then Robert, noticing the empty space on the floor where a small band of hollow-breed once were, stepped forward. Instantly the man bent his knee and by now Erasmus had grown accustomed to the gesture, nodding both his appreciation and willingness to hear the man speak. holding back an eagerness to hear good news.

Mixed news, however, was not what he wanted. His faint scowl displayed the displeasure as his gaze glanced over the heads of the servants lining the walls, considering their presence before a wave of his hand dismissed them and they filed obediently out of the room, vanishing through doorways and around corners in mere seconds.

"Start with the good news." Erasmus commanded, wishing to improve his mood with something positive. Listening with rapt attention the king of Las Noches nodded along with the words of his Tercera, absorbing them to the best of his ability. It was a short and concise report of Roberts findings and Erasmus appreciated that.

However.

"You've come all this way in your research just to tell me that you can't do it because you're afraid of somebody getting hurt." The King's voice was a low cold growl, fingers drumming impatiently against the arm of the throne. "As pathetic as I think your excuse is you've proven yourself valuable and I'd hate to put the resources you provide at risk. But as patient as I am the survival of Las Noches depends on these seals being put in place, Robert. If we cannot come up with a solution then you will administer them regardless of consequences."

Silence fell upon the throne room and it's only pair of inhabitants, broken every few seconds by the rhythmic thumping of the monarchs digits. Shutting his eyes to the world the King pondered every possible aspect of Las Noches that was at his disposal. The answer had come to him quickly, but he was unsure if he trusted Robert enough to allow him access to such a potent ability, in the end however he had failed to discover an alternative and was forced to relinquish his sight to another.

Abruptly the drumming stopped and the air hung with a palpable expectation, as if Hueco Mundo itself was waiting for the next development in the plot it was so dutifully invested in.

"You're aware of my ability to see into the soul, you've felt it. With it you may be able to gain the insight you need." A man reaching the end of his mid-years, sagging slightly and slow, Erasmus planted his palms upon his knees and forced himself to stand. An old body belied the tremendous strength contained within his muscles and hid the vast well of spiritual power at his disposal. "The price you'll need to pay for it, however, means that the choice lies on your side of the court. Only through conflict and the will to live can power be achieved. As such you must survive the most terrible moments of a life you haven't lived."

"If you're prepared for that then we can begin."

[Words: 875][GP: 17][Total GP: 17]

Did his ears deceive him? Erasmus was offering him his power? The same one he used on Robert time and time again? To waltz through a man’s soul, his heart, like it was nothing? He trusted Robert with that?!

A soft grin consumed his face. He could have power on that colossal scale, and the only price he had to pay was to survive the most terrible moments of a life he hasn’t lived? That was nothing. It would be a small price to pay in exchange for that wealth of power, and there was no doubt in his mind that he was willing to pay it.

“I am.”

---

She was gone. He didn’t believe it when they told him, he just refused to. It wasn’t until he stood there in the fields of imperial sekkiseki tombstones, his eyes locked on a chiseled name that he could finally believe what he had been told.

Rose von Creg. His little sister was dead.

He knew at once that it was Kenshou’s fault. He had left, sure, but he had made sure to entrust her to his friend. He had trusted Ine to take care of her, and he had said he would. She died during the rebellion because he was incompetent, because he didn’t do what he said he would do. They were Shinigami, Gods of death. They sat above the cycle of rebirth, why couldn’t they save one girl? And now he was meant to accept that she was gone, that there was nothing he could do? No! He would bring her back, there had to be a way.

Days bled together. Depression was a thick mist that consumed his life, and no joy was left to be found in the world. That had died along with Rose. If the Shinigami couldn’t help him bring her back, perhaps the Hollow-Breeds could? Yaksha was a good man. When they were together, the mist faded, and he could smile. Everything was alright, and the world was just a little bit less hopeless.

And then as soon as it came, it left again. His only friend was revealed to be a liar, and his fleeting happiness was just a delusion. Drugs. He had gassed him, duped him with chemicals to make him think that everything was okay. But, it worked didn't it? When they were together, everything was better. There was some light in the darkness.

Alcohol could do the same thing Yaksha had done.

Months passed in a haze. He drank to feel alive, and even though it didn’t help he couldn’t stop. He was naive. His only family was dead because of him, and he couldn’t bring her back.

And then he came, the Captain Commander. Gilgamesh, the leader of the gotei himself, found him in a rotten tavern and told him the words he needed to hear: Lead the fifth division, and I will bring your sister back.

He did his duty. The drink continued, the pain never ebbed, but he could function. There was some fleeting light at the end of the tunnel. All he had to do was do his job and do it well, and the head of the Shinigami would bring his sister back. One life from the cycle of rebirth, nothing to the Shinigami.

His chance came, Gilgamesh called for him. He just had to invade Las Noches with the other Shinigami, and he could do that. It was a small price to pay for Rose. The invasion was going well, and then he saw him. One of the Judges, a coward that fled the central 46. It was his fault that he was what he was, his Vaizardism was their fault, and all the pain and suffering he went through fell on his head alone.

Artix was successful, he fought the judge and he broke him, justice would be his. The other Shinigami drag the broken judge away, and he proceeds with the invasion, safe in the knowledge that when he got home he would take the judge’s head.

Betrayal. He had captured the judge, he had helped break Las Noches, and now they denied him his revenge. Due Process. Fair Trial. They made him wait for months while they played politics, and all the while he could do nothing but drink and wait for Gilgamesh to give him back Rose.

And then it all fell apart. The judge escaped, got off scot-free and vanished without a trace. His revenge had been stolen, and there would be no justice for what had been done to him. But at least there could be justice for his sister? He went to see Gilgamesh, but he couldn’t find him. Nobody could.

He was gone.

Months passed like a blur. There was no hope to be had now. He was a monster, the men who had made him into one had vanished, and he couldn’t even save his sister. She was gone, and nothing would change that. The alcohol didn’t sate him, it didn’t even taste good on his lips, but he drank because he didn’t know how not to. All the while, his inner hollow gnawed at him, reinforcing his every fear and smothering any hope at progress, at moving out of the hole he found himself in.

And then he came. The man who had let Rose die. He dared to challenge him for the captaincy. He wouldn’t just beat him, he would kill him. All light had been stripped from his life, and it was all his fault. Kenshou Ine.

Artix tore on his mask, and stepped forward to strike down his betrayer, the man who had let her die.

And just like that it was over.

The Inner Hollow turned its fangs on him, and in an instant the broken man was overwhelmed. He had lacked the will to lead for months now, and the Inner Hollow would not tolerate it anymore. He swallowed the consciousness of Artix whole, and let it drown in its despair. Artix von Creg was dead.

As soon as his body reconstituted into a hollow, Kenshou struck. His blade tore through its newly formed mask and shattered it. He ripped a garganta open, and stumbled into the void.

---

Robert breathed in deep through his nose, and spat a large mass of congealed blood onto the floor of the throne room. He had barely noticed what happened to his body; the bleeding from the eyes, the nose, and the gums all felt like so much background noise compared to the burning in his skull. It wasn’t like last time the king had assaulted his mind, though.

He stayed on his feet.

Almost by instinct, Robert dropped down and fished the flask from his boot. He brought it up to his lips, and only then did he stop.

It’s like looking into a mirror, isn’t it? Jikan’s voice echoed from the back of Robert’s mind with a palpable glee. It had seen everything, and it found it good. When was the last time you went just twenty four hours without draining that flask, Artix?

He paused, and stared at it for what felt like an eternity. Finally, his hand rose and he tore off the cap. He tipped the contents into his mouth, and held it there for awhile. He sloshed it around, letting it fill his raw gums and wash the taste of blood out of his mouth. He spat the whisky into the puddle of blood on the floor, dropped the flask into it, and hurled a Haien at the mess.

A Haien was a spell Robert had cast a thousand times in practice. It was surprisingly simple; Flood the arm with Reiryoku, condense it in the channels of the hand, and then fire it with the flick of a wrist. It was a small, fast, blue sphere of fire. Instead, when his Haien flew from his arm, Robert saw not a simple blue sphere, but an explosion of light and color. He knew at once what he was seeing, but the sight of it still burnt through his soul like a wildfire. Data.

He had always been able to feel the ebb and flow of energy, where it was thickest and where it was thinnest. The saturation of the colors he saw conformed flawlessly to that feeling, but that was not all. They described form and state. Even if he had never seen this spell before, seeing its construction laid out like this wouldn’t just let him understand it, it would let him steal it.

Robert slammed his eye shut, and let the bombardment of light fade from his vision. He needed time to adjust to that. It was so… radiant. Was this how Erasmus saw the world?

“I… think it worked. If you’d be so kind as to give me a minute to recover... ” Robert sat himself on the stone next to the small charred spot where his flask used to sit, and took his time to contemplate what he had seen, what he had felt.

”You were weak, weren’t you...” he spoke without even thinking, the consideration of their king and serf relationship not entering his mind for a second. ”I suppose that’s not fair. It wasn’t you. It was Artix. You weren’t his weakness, you were his shadow. Now I understand your warning… why you call the blight within me my true self. That’s what you were. You were his inner hollow, you swallowed him, and you became king. Poisoning his mind, turning him against himself until his identity was lost before your will. The Jeweled wasp to the cockroach that he was.”

”I take it you think I’m just as weak as he was?”

-----
1620 words this post
32 GP this post

It took but a moment, the second those two consenting syllables scrambled eagerly at the air Erasmus seized Roberts soul and forced it to assimilate the foreign data, pushing and pushing until there was little distinction between the two. Robert's eyes swiveled in their sockets, performing frantic impossible motions as they darted left and right, around, up and down, seeing things that had been and gone. In protest against the overwhelming amount of stimulation his body rebelled and blood began to seep from beneath his eyelids, leaking from his nostrils and dripping from dry lips until the crimson rivers flowing down his features were reminiscent of a Hollow's mask markings. Fitting when you considered the future that Robert had yet to face. At least the memories Erasmus had chosen to give him would prepare the man for his inevitable clash with everything he refused to believe he was.

The stagnant chill of Hueco Mundo slithered in through the huge glassless window at the King's back, slowly becoming a light breeze. Wind was an impossible concept to the land of Hollow and any such sensations were usually attributed to the clash of Hollow, their rushing power kicking up a storm that -from miles away- felt like a pleasant drift of air.

Obsession turned towards it, clasping his hands firmly behind his back, wondering curiously what it was like to evolve under the duress of such harsh and hostile conditions. All he had ever had to deal with was one very stupid and incredibly pathetic man with a drinking problem. Maybe he should count himself lucky that he had it so easy, had he been plunged into the wastes of Hueco Mundo his chances of survival would have plummeted. On the other hand, he wouldn't be as weak as he was now.

The vulgar sound of accumulated mucus being gobbed onto hard marble alerted him to Robert's return from the past and the King reeled his mind back in from one of it's increasingly rare moments of conflicted peace. To his credit, Erasmus thought as he turned to observe the results of his handiwork, he didn't collapse this time.

"Go ahead." Obsession said in cooperation with the little voice in Roberts head, talking more to himself than to the Shinigami before him, a hint of old watered down venom in his words. Erasmus had seen many similarities between Robert and Artix but none more prominent than their affinity for drink. As if called from the past itself the words echoed throughout the gargantuan black hall. "Drink long and deep, you need it for what's to come." His words struck a chord with the Espada, or perhaps his true self had said something more personal; either way Robert seemed to see alcohol in a new light and Erasmus' half-lidded gaze watched the smolders burn the flask and booze into an unidentifiable black scar upon the audience floor. It was the easiest of flaws that Robert would have to accept about himself.

Erasmus was not the originator of the Sight, and therefore couldn't possibly speculate what had caused Robert to react the way he had to his own kido spell, it was his deductive logic that had paved the way to that conclusion. It was a spell that required little effort, had a minuscule amount of destructive force, something must have happened to Robert for him to clamp his eyes shut upon seeing the blast of his own attack. The King only half obliged the request of his Espada. Though he didn't speak, he began to descend the steps from his throne and towards his subordinate, allowing him the time it took for him to close the distance to recover.

When Robert called him weak, however, Erasmus stopped mid-step, raised a brow, and wondered. Now that he had seen a brief glimpse into the past of his ruler did Robert presume to understand the broken soul granting him audience? What -Erasmus asked himself in that brief pause- would Robert say next, and would he show an understanding that was premature for his current stage of evolution? 

No, the King decided as Robert continued, no he will not.

"You were right the first time." He replied, momentarily avoiding the question. "I was weak." Slowly closing the rest of the distance Erasmus stood before Robert as he sat and stared down, a disappointed gaze.

"I was weak because Artix was weak, I was everything that he was, everything that he refused to accept that he was; arrogant, ruthless, cruel, obsessed. It wasn't my corruption that gave me dominance, it was his inability to man up and take responsibility for his flaws. In the end I grew tired of being weak, tired of waiting to be strong, so I took action. I, the part of Artix that was refused, consumed and eradicated the weakness, and rose stronger than before. So if -after all you've seen- you still think that an inner hollow is a foreign entity then yes, I think that you are just as weak and pathetic as Artix. But you have something that he never did."

Raising his arm from behind his back Erasmus pointed a single finger at the charred bit of slag that was once a flask of whiskey.

"The will to change."

"The question is," He returned his hand to his back and grinned, almost encouragingly. "Can you find the strength to change before your true self gets tired of waiting?"

"Now, hurry up and apply those seals, Tercera." The King barked, fluidly slipping back into the role of an iron-fisted commander. 

[Words: 930][GP: 18][Total GP: 35]

It was such a strange moment for Las Noches. Erasmus had always been so angry, so undeniably hostile in his every interaction with Robert, and yet there they stood--or sat, as the case may be--talking like equals for one fleeting moment.

If this were the king that I had always known, thought Robert, I’d resent working for him far less.
Does he sound upset to you? asked Kaname
No, he sounds angry. Why? What did you hear?
Too soon, I suppose. Another time, Robert.

Not one for letting such things go, Robert was about to press his question when the king snapped back, his gruff, authoritarian attitude back in full swing.

“Your grace,” Robert rose to his feet, hands shaking ever-so-slightly from the nerves. “I will apply them, but, only once I know what I need to know. I’d rather spend thirty minutes to get it right.” He let his eye fall open.

The room sang with light, and his first thought was to simply slam his eyelid shut once again, to block out the noise and retreat to the darkness. That cowardness wasn’t an option, however, and so he forced himself to stare down at the ground.

The smooth, uniform stone work was far quieter, but it still sang. He could see where the stone had been patched over time after time again. The stone was white, it had always been white. He could see it’s true color, it’s whiteness, and yet it glowed a soft green. He somehow knew that what he was seeing was its structure, laid out before him like data points, and where the color changed, so too did its construct.

Robert laid his hand onto the stone, and flooded his Reiatsu into its structure. Not only could he see it, he could see it. The energy that passed through the stone even felt as he expected it would, stronger where he assumed the stonework was thinner. It all made sense, it conformed with his other senses. It was elegant.

He looked up.

Erasmus was a blinding smear of golds and browns, the sight of which sang with an intensity that caused his eye to burn. It was like being stabbed with fire, a mixture of both piercing and burning pain that burrowed through his skull and burst out the back of his head. He wasn’t meant to be sensing Reiatsu of this intensity, and merely looking at it for too long could cause problems for him.

“I can see you...” the words were saturated in the pain it clearly caused him. ”Let’s get this over with before my eyes burst from the light. I’m sure you’ve already figured out the specifics with those eyes of yours, but let me recap it anyway. Stand like this: Arms out, legs evenly spaced, like a cross. Don’t move. I’ll study your reiatsu for a moment and then begin. I will need to pierce your skin in several locations with my blade, just enough to draw blood. Since we saw how hard that was last time, please try and suppress your Hierro. You’ll need to take off your shirt. It’ll just be destroyed anyway, and finally...The spell requires consent. Specifically, it requires you to finish the incantation with its name: Bakudō #108 Kanmanki.”

Robert made his way around the king like a judge studying a prized dog. He approached the king, took his arm in hand tentatively, and rolled the sleeve out of the way. Now more a doctor than a scientist, he ran his index finger along the king’s wrist and forearms, feeling for microscopic bumps and nodules that corresponded to the Reiryoku channels he expected to find. When he found one, he let himself look at the torrent of light, and found that the flow was indeed thicker where he was looking, only, it was in a completely different location from where it was on a Shinigami or an Arrancar. Robert smiled slightly as he realized that, had he done this without The Sight, he would have surely only succeeded in cutting off Erasmus’ blood flow to certain parts of his body or, worse still, his nervous system.

Either way, he would have been killed.

With an idea of how things had been relocated, finding the rest of Erasmus’ Reiryoku focal points proved a surprisingly easy task. They had all been moved by small increments from where they would ‘normally’ fall, but they followed the same basic layout. Only twos point remained unchanged: The brain and the heart. Robert didn’t even get to see the specifics of it--when he tried to look in their direction, the burning became so overwhelming that he had to look away--but it was unmistakably them, same as for every other species.

He knew all he had to, time to skip the foreplay.

“Still waters, tranquil depths.
Writhes with invisible serpents.”

Robert let his hand drift to his Zanpakutō as he spoke, tearing it from its sheath with speed. He flicked his wrist, sending a warm flood of white light crawling down its face. As soon as the light coalesced at the tip he thrust it forward, driving it into the palm of Erasmus’ left hand. The blade pierced a centimetre into the flesh, and then was torn out, only to stab the right in kind. Each cut began to billow out warm white light, brighter than the

“Follow and be devoured,
Turn and slip away
Lose yourself in the void.”

His blade sunk down, piercing through the tops of Erasmus’ shoes and into the tips of his feet.

“Blood falls like rain
It floods the river that we must cross”

It shot up, and tapped the center of Erasmus’ adam’s apple, leaving the tiniest of points. Then up it went, lightly dragging across his face until it found purchase in his forehead, leaving a deep gash.

“When the dam breaks
Your heart will live again”

Finally, it fell, and the tip rested just above the King’s wretched heart.

“We’ll sink into the river
And seek redemption together.”

He gave Erasmus a nod, waited for him to say his part, and the plunged it into his chest. As soon as the tip made purchase through the Hierro, the light spread, snaking its way across the King’s body and meeting at his heart, leaving a long trail of golden kanji in their wake.

Robert gave the blade a simple turn, like a key in a lock, and the tattoos shifted, breaking apart from Kanji into long, thin pathways that marked out every line of Erasmus’ Reiryoku network. He turned the key the other way, and the lines twisted, snapping away from a neat, coherent flow into a discordant mess of infinite loops and dead ends. At once, the king’s strength faltered, trickling down from that of a mighty leader into something rivaling Ine. Then Tokiyo.

Then Robert.

The thought wasn’t lost on him that, were he at full strength, he could kill the king right then and there, but no sooner did it cross his mind then his body lurched. He let the Zanpakutō fall from his hand to the floor, and quickly vanished into the corner of the throne room to puke.

Casting one spell of this calibre was hard enough, and he knew it would drain him, but this was different. He felt like had cast two, when he clearly hadn’t.

He would probably black out.

Tell me, what’s to stop Erasmus from killing you now? The Gigai? He already knows the breakthroughs you’ve made in it from looking inside your head, and since there are working prototypes in your lab, he has no further need of you. So smart you got yourself killed. Good job.

-----
1286 Words this post
25 GP this post

Obliging Roberts request for time to compose himself and collect the necessary information required to proceed Erasmus stood stock still, not wanting to risk interrupting his Tercera's observations by moving and sending whatever it was the man was seeing off kilter. Instead he occupied himself with watching Robert in turn, noting the quivering of his limbs and the sudden paleness that had overcome his skin. Had the memories affected him that much? The difference in appetite for alcohol Erasmus could understand, but Robert had been subject to this before and even then he hadn't reacted so violently. Suspicious, the King delved subtly into his subordinates mind, going against his own better judgement. He saw the vibrate colors of the spell that was cast just a few moments ago, the blinding light of power. Casting himself further back he searched for the reason for this sudden bout of weakness and found only daily activities, changes in the Gotei and days of effort given to the inhibitor. Erasmus slipped from Roberts past and back into the present as carefully as he could manage, scolding himself for his mistake. It seemed odd for Robert to be so weak, but there was no denying the facts, perhaps his research had taken more out of him than he realized.

Was this the weakness that Erasmus could expect once his power shrunk down to Roberts level? The thought was invigorating and frightening at the same time. To be so vulnerable, but to have so much potential. At least Erasmus, unlike Robert, would have the option of removing the inhibitor should he find himself in a less than favorable situation, but somewhere at the back of his mind pride told him that to do so would make him a lesser man and at that moment Erasmus realized just how dangerous it was. Looking at it now the answer was obvious, his life was worth more than his pride, but he couldn't help but worry how things might change in the heat of the moment. He'd have to be careful.

Roberts words brought Erasmus from his idle mental wandering, focus returning to the world as he zeroed in on Robert's presence. 

"Can you?" The King replied softly with a rhetorical question, all meanings of those two words filling the empty room to the brim.

True to Roberts assessment Erasmus was vaguely aware of the details of what his part in this spell would be and had already begun to remove the dull grey shirt and duster that kept his body protected from the sands of Hueco Mundo. Obeying the instructions he was given without qualm Erasmus performed each action as Robert described it to him. Legs firmly apart, almost shoulder width but not quite, arms held rigid out to his sides. The religious imagery wasn't lost on the King and he fought back the desire to groan in protest, surely Robert could have come up with a less ridiculous pose for all of this. Or maybe the silliness of it was precisely what Robert intended. Whatever the case Erasmus kept quiet, this was the crowning moment of Roberts career as an Espada and the King was watching him very closely.

"You're giving me a real workout here." The monarch commented as he willed his skin to soften and memorized the words he'd have to speak to complete the ritual. Meanwhile Robert hovered around him like a strange bearded bee around a flower, poking here and touching there. Briefly Erasmus was reminded of his visits to the infirmary in the Gotei and he recalled the deep respect he had for those who dedicated their lives to healing. In some way that respect still existed, even more so now that it was rare for him to find such individuals in Las Noches.

Then Robert began the incantation and Erasmus snapped back into focus. A blade had been drawn and while, even without Hierro, Robert could do very little damage it still made Erasmus wary. Both of his hands were pierced by the blade and once again the religious imagery was so harsh it was cringe-worthy and Erasmus couldn't help but roll his eyes. His blood dripped to the floor.

Next were his feet and Erasmus frowned at the holes in his boots. The least Robert could have done was tell him to take those off too.

Finding his neck the blade slid upwards, slowly slicing skin apart as it went and Erasmus winced the whole way. Was all of this really necessary? Incantations were one thing, but this was delving into superstitious tribe ritual territory.

Finally the blade rested over his heart and the time had come for Erasmus to give the almighty gods of kido his consent.

"Bakudō number one hundred and eight; Kanmanki." He droned unceremoniously, his dislike of Kido carrying over from his past life. Artix had never been talented at it and Erasmus found all of the incantations and preparations too long winded to be of any use.

The blade plunged forwards and for a split second there was an urge to break the ritual and ring Roberts neck, a natural survival instinct that went unheeded as there was no pain. No weakness. No feeling at all actually. Nothing was happening, the blade was just lodged in his chest. It wouldn't be until later when Erasmus plucked the memories of what had happened from Roberts head that he would realize what it was that he was not seeing. It wasn't until Robert turned the blade sideways that a strange sensation of warmth spread from the point of entry, like flowing rivers of hot water all rushing through his veins, desperate to reach the extremities of his body.

The Key was turned again once Erasmus' whole body was flooded with warmth and just as quickly as it had surged throughout him the heat retreated and left a sad cold in it's wake.

Still Erasmus felt no weaker.

Evidently Robert did not feel the same. No sooner was the spell complete than the Shinigami had dropped his weapon and rushed off towards a nearby pillar, throwing up whatever remained of his breakfast and ruining the immaculate surface of both pillar and floor. Meanwhile Erasmus stood and waited for something, anything, else to happen. The feeling of atrophied muscle, a "ceiling" for his reiatsu to hit as he drove it upwards and outwards, a weight to descend upon his weaker frame. But no matter what he did none of it felt any different than it did yesterday. A growl escaped his lips and he stared down at his ponderously flexing fingers, the dropped zanpakuto coming into focus behind them.

He picked it up.

There was only one way to know for sure if the spell had worked.

Turning towards Robert Erasmus' gaze grew dark with contemplation, the weight of the unfamiliar, but suitable, weapon in his fist. He took one step towards the retching Shinigami, still feeling no change in his legs. When he raised the sword there was no resistance that he didn't recognize. 

The blade swung down as Erasmus stood directly behind his Tercera.

"Rest now." He muttered.

The hilt of the zanpakuto hovered just an inch from Robert's hand, Erasmus' fingers wrapped firmly around the blade in offering.

"You've earned that much, well done, Tercera. Get something to eat, regain your strength, and when you're finished I want to test my new lack of power."

[Words: 1239][GP: 24][Total GP: 24]
[GP Reset Due to Claim]

He didn’t even notice Erasmus walk up behind him. His entire being was focused on the burning in his Reiryoku channels, and the parasitic words of Jikan in his ear. As clear an attempt at psychological warfare it was, he was right. If he were Erasmus, that’s what he’d do. Robert had outlived his usefulness, and if he was kept around, wouldn’t he just grow to become a threat? It was the kind of game that a king couldn’t afford to take.

And then Erasmus gave him his sword.

Robert was genuinely caught off guard by the gesture. If anything, he would have expected the blade to go straight through his back, but instead the king handed it over, complete with compliments over his work. Were he not in agony from how far he had overreached his soul, he might have made some snide remark--either internally or externally--over his complete shift in attitude, but instead all he could muster was a nod as he took the blade.

“Tomorrow.”

The Espada found his feet, sheathed his blade, and made his way out of the king’s presence in search of rest. It wasn’t until he reached the door of the tower of the Segunda that he let his hand come to rest on the sheathed blade. He didn’t bother to show any signs of satisfaction or celebration at the victory he had just achieved, instead simply allowing himself to smile as he stepped into his home, and took his spouse’s hand in his own.

Today was a good day.

---The Next Day---

Robert’s journey to the throne room started much like his first. He set out not as an Espada visiting his king, but as a challenger marching to war itself. To the practitioner of kidō, preparation was the ultimate weapon, and so he started by preparing spells. A small blue hexagon buried among Robert’s hair was the only indication of his prepared defensive barrier, and he was more than a little excited to get to test Millón Escudo. As he walked, the incantation for Sōren Junkatsui fluttered softly over his lips, and he kept his focus on the foresight Kaname had granted him.

So, is this just a friendly spar or is this an assassination attempt? Kaname’s question was a rather prudent one, but he probably already knew the answer.
Oh no, I’m going to try and kill him. He wants to expand, right? To learn how to fight? Why would I pull my punches? If I hit as hard as I can, I’ll either kill him or he’ll learn. If it's the former I win, if it’s the latter, well, he gets exactly what he wants and I’m the good Espada that gave it to him.

He could feel the king before he reached him, a boiling mass of Reiatsu that, while malevolent, stood on par with Robert’s own. There was only one complication, however: He was not alone. Robert could feel three other Reiatsu signatures in the throne room alongside the monarch, and while he could outright attack the king, he couldn’t justify burning his subjects alive. That would escalate things from a training exercise to full blown treason, and he simply couldn’t afford that.

You bent the fire of the Junkatsui around those Shinigami just before you fought Shizu Kaname piped in with a reasonable suggestion.
I did, but that was in a large area. This will collapse in on itself, and flood the entire room.
Well, come up with something else, or abandon your plan. Don’t give him a reason to murder you.

Robert came to a stop just outside the throne room door, and hovered his hand tenderly over the stone handle. The white fire of the prepared Junkatsui coated his hands, foaming and rolling over itself with fury. As it got near the stone, it began to char its surface, and yet Robert’s hand was uscathed.

Remember back when casting this spell would burn me? Junkatsui, the artillery Hadō. It earned an awful reputation for injuring its caster, almost to the point of being classified as a sacrificial Kidō, and yet Tokiyo himself acknowledge that I could control it like none other. It doesn’t burn me… does it have to burn them?
That’s a big question, and this is a very dangerous way to test it.
You’re right, but much like Erasmus himself, I won’t grow if I don’t take risks.

His heel sunk into the door, and the entrance to the throne room burst open.

”You wanted to test your lack of power, Erasmus?” Robert gave the king only a moment to register what was happening, and then slammed his fire coated palms together, thrusting them out as a colossal wave of white hot fury barreled down into the throne room.

”Hadō Number Ninety Seven: Sōren Junkatsui!”

The flames consumed the entirety of the throne room in an instant, and while they consumed everything in their path Robert turned his attention exclusively on the three servants that were caught in the crossfire. He forced his Reiatsu out, extending it like tentacles of energy that cut through the flames and wrapped themselves around the servants. The fire, having been imbued by Robert in its casting to actively avoid his energy, immediately arched away from the servants, creating three tiny islands of safety in the pandemonium. The men that would have certainly been incinerated still stood as the flames began to fade, covered with only mild heat burns from being near the chaos. It was a resounding success.

Do you think that’s enough to kill the king? asked Kaname
Not if he’s worthy of the title replied Robert. No monarch would die that easily.

-----
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