Heavy Hands for Heavy Hearts [Cazador]

The dragon king sat on his throne rebuild to fit the massive gillian as he rested. His might had been tested and he passed, his will to rule tested and he overcame, his thirst for more power tried and he wanted more. He ruled well and Las Noches was returning to life, the walls being rebuild, loyal arrancar coming to pledge loyalty to the king. There was no contest anymore, Cazador was the king of the vast endless desert of Hueco Mundo, a king from the desert and like the countless beasts of the sand he still wore his mask proudly. He would never break his symbol of pride, his draconic visage. His espada had been sent away and those training to be espada elsewhere as the king rested. In truth he searched inward for ideas on how to increase his power, how to extend his rule even further then the sands of Hueco Mundo. Yet all he could sense was a twisted reiatsu a terrible mix of shinigami and hollow, the dreaded vaizard. He felt the door open before Eve walked into the throne room, the cold gaze of the king locked to the mask on the face of the woman. He was almost surprised that she knew his name, almost. Her words of rebuilding Las Noches made the king smile even while struggling under the intense reiatsu of the vaizard, “You think that I haven't been rebuilding Las Noches? You think I haven't been gathering forces to push out further then our great desert?!?” The king gave a huff as he rose from his throne.

“Why should I let you some twisted shinigami and hollow hybrid guide MY people!?” The anger and hatred clear in the king's voice, he hated the shinigami and all they represented and for one to mix with a hollow was a disgrace to both. He continued to listen to the speech of the vaizard his anger slowly growing to a boil before he could no longer contain the storm within, the thunder within his mind grew so loud he could barely think straight. He knew the strength of the vaizard before himself, heard tales of her and even could sense the vast stores of reiatsu she had bent to her will. Claiming she wasn't strong would be a lie and he knew it yet he could not just surrender his throne peacefully to this woman. It always seemed to be the women that caused the most problems for Cazador, from Octavia when he first arrived in Las Noches to Verbrennung in the desert and now Eve. Her bold claim to name him Segunda and herself queen.

“You dare make such a claim without first defeating the current king? I'll admire that, it's very hollow of you. However you will need to defeat me before I'll ever kneel to you.” Running his claws over his palm as lightning leaped from his body racing towards Eve, giving him time to build his gran rey cero, the green light switching to blue as the blood added to the mix. His hand calm to brace his arm as he released the cero at the woman, he wouldn't stand a chance against her overwhelming reiatsu but he would not give up his throne without at least fighting her. For the pride of all hollows he had to do it.

WC 563

She didn’t want it to be like this, but she couldn’t frown in the face of his pride. Ego was a better word right now. As he rose from his perch and scowled at her with all the ferocity of a king, she could only stand and stare from behind her mask. It wasn’t a fight, but a test of honor.

“I don’t want to fight,” Eve began, hand reaching out to plead with him. “I want to work with--”

His cero met the unfortunate fate of her palm. The entire blast of energy slammed against the immovable wall and was dismissed with a simple flex of her fingers. Not even a tiny singe stood to prove that his attack even worked. Had he attacked at all? Nothing about her looked out of place. Her clothes hadn’t even shifted on her body.

Slowly, her hand fell to her side.

“I’m only here to help, Hollow,” Eve said with as calm of a voice as she could manage given he just attacked her for no good reason. “Don’t let your narrow vision get in the way of the greater good!”

She took a step forward and with it came the full weight of her Reiatsu. It flashed out as a dark haze that blanketed the throne room, making the walls creak and groan in protest. The King took all he had just to breathe under it, if only because she let him. She if so wanted, she could end him without moving a single finger. It was tragic for someone who had done so much good, but that was simply the way of Las Noches.

The strong lead the weak.

“Stand down Cazador and work with me,” she repeated, irritation spilling all over her tone. “Or are you going to blindly lead your sheep to the slaughtering house? Are you so naive as to think you and those you’ve assembled can even begin to face the recruits in the Seireitei? You need to wisen up and think for your people.”

She clenched her jaw, passion flaring to life as she took another step towards him.

“A king is useless if his men are dead,” the words were heavier than her Reiatsu. “Let me mold them -- you -- into something Las Noches can be proud to hold. Don’t be complacent and ignore a good offer just because your delicate ego refuses to budge. Or are you so consumed that you don’t even hear a word I’m saying?”

She stared hard into his eyes, daring him to try another attack in the face of her truly awesome spiritual power. Could he even manage an attack with so much power bearing down on him? It would be impressive, but only serve to prove her point.

“Regardless of your answer, I refuse to let you lead everyone to death.”

[473]

Cazador couldn't believe his eyes, his gran rey cero, his trump card wasn't even a slight bother to her. He had poured everything he had into it and she wasn't even burned, how could he hope to defeat her with such a clear and concise difference in power. He stepped closer to the king unleashing her full reiatsu as a heavy ocean of power, it took every ounce of his power and will to even stand and look her in the eye. He knew he was defeated then, before he could even say a true battle had taken place. Never before had the difference in power been so clear. Not once had Cazador ever faced something so far above himself that he thought battle was impossible but he had today. He would not let the woman know that, though his ability to fight might be nothing he still held the power of words, he also knew the value of time and patience. “My people are not sheep, they are noble and proud creatures as they should be. Time and time again the desert has tested them each in a different way and only they have survived where others failed and became their meal. That is the way of Hueco Mundo, you want to be queen of Las Noches. Fine, it is but one building to my entire domain of Hueco Mundo. As for defeating the recruits of the Seireitei, I don't simply believe my people could defeat them, I know for a fact that each one of them is worth at least five. Our life demands strength and power to survive, so I know they are ready for combat. Our hunger and the need to evolve drives us, so I know their spirit can't be broken. You might take this throne, but you can never take the sand from my blood, nor the pride of the hollow from me. My men know who the real king is.”

These words were spoken from his passion for his people, his pride in the hollows of the desert. The arrancar who pledged themselves to him had each proven they still had sand in their veins and the hollow part of them still strong. This woman couldn't even commit to being a hollow nor a shinigami, Cazador would work with her for now, biding his time as he grew stronger, having his hollows and arrancar grow with him. When the time was ripe and he no long had such a difference between himself and Eve he would take back his throne. He laughed in the face of the vaizard, a deep rolling laughter which echoed through the room like thunder. “I'll work with you, but you will never truly be queen. After all just like a arrancar could never truly be king, they've given up some small part of what it is to be hollow, the arrancar that follow me understand that. Perhaps in time they might find some way of getting that back and be able to take back that bit they lost, but it will be because of my guiding hand that they do. So go ahead take the throne and claim yourself Queen of Las Noches. I have a people who will need their king still so I'll remain as your espada but the desert will always be mine. Death is not what I bring to my people, I bring them judgment, I bring them fury, I bring them power!” The gillian huffed under the strain of the reiatsu, but would not kneel or bow, his rule may be over but his pride and the pride of all those who followed him would not be broken on this night.

WC 618/1181

This was the humble leader Las Noches had to speak of? So blinded by pride he couldn’t even see the train coming straight for him? Eve couldn’t help but frown a bit more as he stammered out his ego and laid out false claims of power.

Even standing before her, he did not know what true power was. He clung to what little hope he had and refused to tuck tail despite staring down someone who could kill him just be existing. There was something likeable about that, but it was surely not fit for a king. Not when dark horizons were upon them.

“I’m glad you see things my way,” was all she could say as her Reiatsu snapped away from him and curled back around her feet. “Assemble your men, appoint them Fraccion, and make our forces strong.” The commands came out smoothly, confident in his ability to at least take pride in being the leader of the military. “They will look to you for commands and guidance on the battlefield. Do me proud.”

And with that, she stepped to the side and beckoned to the door. A silent gesture for him to take his leave and begin his duties.

“If you have time, there’s a troublesome Quincy I’d like for you to bring in as well,” she said once the dragon stirred and reluctantly took his place. “Lucas Lightner has been stirring up a lot of commotion within the Quincy. With the Seireitei on our backs, the last thing I want is a bunch of soul purifiers trying to out us from our back door.”

She traded places with the dragon, taking her spot on the throne as she looked down at his retreating figure. Would he even listen to the command? Time would only tell, though she would hope that even through his pride he could see the value in this choice.

“Dead or alive, I want that Quincy at my feet.”

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