07-22-2018, 07:31 PM
Amidst the shattered remains and howling winds of Nippur, Retane’s words fell on deaf ears. Serraph was attacking his own people? Not plausible. The green man was neither hollow nor a servant of the great King Gilgamesh. What servant would parade around in his magnificence so lightly and attempt to capture his aura? Perhaps he was referring to the theme of this battle, but Serraph cared little for it. The king’s grace trumps all others, especially something as trivial as a violent entertainment broadcast such as this one.
The Arrancar strained to turn himself over to meet the false Nippurian sun’s light. The rays hammered down upon his sensitive skin. His hands reached to block the blinding star from his eyes. He could feel it; He could feel her. Enraged and vengeful she tore at his very soul to gain control. Serraph’s other, Serra, would have the false king’s head on a pike.
Serraph took a deep breath and sat up, his hands grasping the cold grip of Kusanagi. This wasn’t the place for her. His mind thought back to visiting her inner world, the world that rested in the depths of her soul. He looked past the forest of pikes that lined the cold desert.
“Almost heaven, Hueco Mundo,” he sang softly under his breath. His chest burned from battle, the thorns of agony intertwining with each syllable. Even still, Serraph’s words weaved through the tendrils of pain intertwining with them. Such a sound that was reminiscent of the ominous, but sweet notes propagating from the soft winds, blowing over the dense onyx trees. The angered soul within calmed at the sound of his voice, the feeling of vengeful flames receding to a collected warmth.“Nightshade firmament, hollowed lonely satellite.”
“What’s that, paper man? Want more? Bitch, I’m’a fuck you up!” Arith spoke, clenching his twin sabers. He stepped forward to the Arrancar, his sabers poised to finish the fight for good.
“Arith! Get back!” Retane’s voice boomed, but like before, the Lythian was not having it.
History repeated itself, but some tricks only work once. Inirtias’s arrow hadn’t achieved the same amount of luck from before and only hit the dust behind him. Arith turned and stuck his tongue out at his comrade mischievously before turning back to Serraph.
The arrancar faced him, his hands softly clenching Kusanagi’s hilt. Serraph’s smile widened unnaturally as Retane’s minion thrust its saber into his guard.
"All according to keikkaku*."
Guided by Serra’s spirit, the King’s Servant discarded Kusanagi and stepped forward. The Saber tore through his shirt and plunged into his chest, but no ink spilled. Serraph’s smile faded, while his trembling hands reached out to clinch the spine of the saber and the wrist holding it.
Such action brought pause within Arith. Why would one willingly endanger themselves like that? Serraph’s faded grin returned. His thumb jammed into the Lythian’s wrist, disarming him of the saber. Before he realized what had happened, Serraph had already wrestled the other saber away. His maneuvers were too much for Arith, slithering past his guard, and, pinning his arms behind his back. The arrancar drove his foot into the back of Arith’s knee, pulling the taller one down. His hand gracefully flourished the balanced saber, bringing its edge to the lythian’s neck.
“Death is old there, older than the sand,” his song continued as the sword’s edge slowly began to part Arith’s fair skin.
Retane roared and charged Serraph before he could further harm his comrade. As skilled as the King’s Servant’s enemy was, his strong attachment to the human betrayed him and drew him out from the safety of his defenses. The arrancar grinned and kicked the foul-mouthed lunatic aside. Arcing around, the vicious Glaive of Dante cleaved through air and Serraph’s side alike. Weak parchment flesh made way for the lethal weapon as it cut deep into him. Despite such grievous injury, he continued to smile.
“Older than the time there, older than the land.” The King’s servant’s eyes flared a deep crimson, the Sharingan peering deep into his foe, and then Serraph’s body erupted into a puff of white smoke A broken Lythian saber and a white button-up shirt fell from the form that was once perceived as Serraph.
“Endless Dunes, take me home, to the land I belong. Hueco Mundo, Lonesome Moon. Take me home, Endless Dunes.”
He revealed himself ten yards away at his six o’clock, arms outstretched. Behind him, the flag of New Babylon unfurled against the false Nippurian wind. The visage of the Nippurian lion roared valiantly behind the King’s servant, and its defiant Sharingan peered down upon the courtyard. Serraph’s brow furrowed, matching the intensity of the King’s Lion. Serra’s spirit worked alongside the Nippurian aura, guiding his hand. Crimson light coalesced into a perfect sphere between his fingers. Erratic spiritual energy arced over his arm and the ground, repelling the dust away from his form. The chaotic orb of sanguine energy condensed, packing itself smaller and smaller until it was no longer visible. Serraph’s smile faded away.
“Cero.”
The Arrancar strained to turn himself over to meet the false Nippurian sun’s light. The rays hammered down upon his sensitive skin. His hands reached to block the blinding star from his eyes. He could feel it; He could feel her. Enraged and vengeful she tore at his very soul to gain control. Serraph’s other, Serra, would have the false king’s head on a pike.
Serraph took a deep breath and sat up, his hands grasping the cold grip of Kusanagi. This wasn’t the place for her. His mind thought back to visiting her inner world, the world that rested in the depths of her soul. He looked past the forest of pikes that lined the cold desert.
“Almost heaven, Hueco Mundo,” he sang softly under his breath. His chest burned from battle, the thorns of agony intertwining with each syllable. Even still, Serraph’s words weaved through the tendrils of pain intertwining with them. Such a sound that was reminiscent of the ominous, but sweet notes propagating from the soft winds, blowing over the dense onyx trees. The angered soul within calmed at the sound of his voice, the feeling of vengeful flames receding to a collected warmth.“Nightshade firmament, hollowed lonely satellite.”
“What’s that, paper man? Want more? Bitch, I’m’a fuck you up!” Arith spoke, clenching his twin sabers. He stepped forward to the Arrancar, his sabers poised to finish the fight for good.
“Arith! Get back!” Retane’s voice boomed, but like before, the Lythian was not having it.
History repeated itself, but some tricks only work once. Inirtias’s arrow hadn’t achieved the same amount of luck from before and only hit the dust behind him. Arith turned and stuck his tongue out at his comrade mischievously before turning back to Serraph.
The arrancar faced him, his hands softly clenching Kusanagi’s hilt. Serraph’s smile widened unnaturally as Retane’s minion thrust its saber into his guard.
"All according to keikkaku*."
Guided by Serra’s spirit, the King’s Servant discarded Kusanagi and stepped forward. The Saber tore through his shirt and plunged into his chest, but no ink spilled. Serraph’s smile faded, while his trembling hands reached out to clinch the spine of the saber and the wrist holding it.
Such action brought pause within Arith. Why would one willingly endanger themselves like that? Serraph’s faded grin returned. His thumb jammed into the Lythian’s wrist, disarming him of the saber. Before he realized what had happened, Serraph had already wrestled the other saber away. His maneuvers were too much for Arith, slithering past his guard, and, pinning his arms behind his back. The arrancar drove his foot into the back of Arith’s knee, pulling the taller one down. His hand gracefully flourished the balanced saber, bringing its edge to the lythian’s neck.
“Death is old there, older than the sand,” his song continued as the sword’s edge slowly began to part Arith’s fair skin.
Retane roared and charged Serraph before he could further harm his comrade. As skilled as the King’s Servant’s enemy was, his strong attachment to the human betrayed him and drew him out from the safety of his defenses. The arrancar grinned and kicked the foul-mouthed lunatic aside. Arcing around, the vicious Glaive of Dante cleaved through air and Serraph’s side alike. Weak parchment flesh made way for the lethal weapon as it cut deep into him. Despite such grievous injury, he continued to smile.
“Older than the time there, older than the land.” The King’s servant’s eyes flared a deep crimson, the Sharingan peering deep into his foe, and then Serraph’s body erupted into a puff of white smoke A broken Lythian saber and a white button-up shirt fell from the form that was once perceived as Serraph.
“Endless Dunes, take me home, to the land I belong. Hueco Mundo, Lonesome Moon. Take me home, Endless Dunes.”
He revealed himself ten yards away at his six o’clock, arms outstretched. Behind him, the flag of New Babylon unfurled against the false Nippurian wind. The visage of the Nippurian lion roared valiantly behind the King’s servant, and its defiant Sharingan peered down upon the courtyard. Serraph’s brow furrowed, matching the intensity of the King’s Lion. Serra’s spirit worked alongside the Nippurian aura, guiding his hand. Crimson light coalesced into a perfect sphere between his fingers. Erratic spiritual energy arced over his arm and the ground, repelling the dust away from his form. The chaotic orb of sanguine energy condensed, packing itself smaller and smaller until it was no longer visible. Serraph’s smile faded away.
“Cero.”
Quote:T1 Super Offensive Cero used. 1/4 sp remaining.
842 words according to Wordcounter.net
*Translator's note: Keikaku means plan.
"Mine eyes hath seen the glory of the presence of my Lord. He is sifting through the treasures in which his Gates of Wrath does store. He lets loose the righteous vengeance of his terrible swift swords. Gilgemesh has returned!"