THE PAIN OF SALVATION

The visage of the Lion stood tall, his form silhouetted by fire and death. He had spent an entire lifetime avoiding these moments, but alas, found himself within' their clutches once more. In a sense he was the shell of his former self. Even now the uniform he kept such good care of was ripped, torn, and bloodied. His body lay naked in many places, the scars of his fights coming to light; the distinct smell of smoke tingling his nostrils. The lion's regal head laid low, Vaaen's unmistakable presence standing not even a 5 meters away from him. An undeniable, and unquenchable anger surged within' him. Betrayal was expected but.. What the forth Espada did was unforgivable.

"I believe you," he said in return to the man's continuous pleas of helping him. "I believe that you believe that." For the first time he turned to face him, face as rigid as the kingdom's walls he once possessed. The eye patch he had come to wear over his missing eye was missing, nothing but a socket of disgust where it once was. "Perhaps in a sense it did," the fifth espada chuckled, "but, I suppose not in the way you were hoping for. Or.. Perhaps it was?" A smile caressed his hardened lips. The man before him sought death and destruction, and this? The scene he surrounded himself with now? The very intent in the lions heart? It was the epitome of it all.

"My intention here today is not with words, Vaaen." To prove his point he squeezed the singular blade that was in his right hand, the others either missing or hidden away. Ao's smile faded into that of a smirk. "I suppose this is how we all wanted to end up, eh? Or at least expected-- cut down by those we call 'brother' and 'sister'." Frozen, he stood, turning his attention once more to the destruction that ensued around him. It seemed as fitting as ever. "One last bout, brother?" And he was gone, appearing before Vaaen from a Sonido. The fist of his left hand struck out towards the blonds cheek while blade made a quick jab at his gut. Death, or victory, it all seemed like semantics. He was here to fight for those he let down.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Nothing. For the first time in his entire existence, he felt nothing. To the weaker, less inclined to die, it would have been terrifying-- it was as if all his senses were shutting down, and this was only the beginning. It took seconds for him to register the arm that was through his chest now, clutching the one thing many Espada seemed to use: the heart. A tinge of regret played softly at his mind, but was quickly tossed aside. He had done his people a justice by fighting for them. He too felt the satisfaction of releasing his newly acquired cannibalistic instincts. He hoped in death they wouldn't follow.

"Hépíng zài zuìhòu Gē," he spat out, blood sliding down his chin and staining the ground beneath him. Dark, cerulean eyes blinked in and out of their exuberant colors, as if unsure of whether or not to die entirely. They looked upwards into his brother's own, using his dominant hand to weakly grab at his wrist. Teeth, stained by blood, shined through in a smile. "Peace.. at last.." With a final breathe, he fell to the floor. The vision he had for his own people, the vengeance Ao held in his heart, and the near seven hundred years of life, ceasing in an instant.

You didn’t have to die, brother.

The Godfather exhaled his grief and crouched downward, placing a hand over the fallen Espada’s single eye. “I will never forget you, but I will never respect you.” He said, softly closing his eye and officially laying him to rest. “You died for a man who would never do the same for you.”

He rose to his feet, wiping the man from his conscience with a crack of the neck. He grasped at the coat over his shoulders, and layered the corpse with it. His steeled, aquatic orbs caught sight of the released Aspect of Mayhem with a slight turn of the head, his face slowly breaking off into an elaborate pinch of anger. “Be careful, Carrla, I will not be the same when I release.” It was obvious he was drenched in his fury, though the underlying care of his words tumbled with a semblance of calm through the clench of his teeth. He turned his back to the woman with a few paces, embracing his overflowing wrath with an exasperated breath.

He channeled the bulk of his rage into a fist, nearly exploding the veins that bulged in his neck, “Faust!!” His voice cast into the war-dominated sound waves like a maelstrom of wrath that overpowered every ambient noise audacious enough to exist, and would have irrefutably drawn two distinct entities to his presence. He glared into the distance until the familiar scent of the Segunda materialized before him. And when she arrived, she received his piercing gaze. “Show me your wrath, Anneliese.”

The throne room was shrouded in shadows. Luucio sat at its apex, relaxed and calm. His cape and glasses, trademarks of the Godking, were gone. His breaths were sharp like swords; pain had whet them well. Closing his eyes, Luucio allowed him to remember his folly for just a moment. And in that moment, he remembered things that even he, the strongest in all of Hueco Mundo, never wanted to remember.

“Luucio. . .,” came that soft woman’s timbre. Even in the shadows, Qysandra’s presence was a bright as a sun to the Godking.

“You’ve already sent it away, right?” Luucio asked, his voice shaking.

“I did.”

There was a certain defeat in her voice, Luucio knew. Two espada had been sent out to the far reaches of Hueco Mundo, and both the Godking and the Primera had been summoned as back up for what they encountered. In that short fight only one of the four--the four men who could shape worlds--escaped. Two, he knew, were dead. Luucio’s teeth ground hard into each other and he slammed his fist into the armrest. At that, pain shot up his arm raw as lightning. That thing had not left a physical wound, but the gouge in his soul was still very real. And with an army knocking on his doorstep, Luucio knew that everything had suddenly come crashing down.

“You know, Qysandra, the Sage always did tell me there were two paths.”

Silence was the answer at first. Then, “What were they, Luucio?”

Luucio stood. On his back was his zanpakutou, strapped on by a black sash that crossed his chest diagonally. In the city, a massive power spiked and then disappeared, as if it were an explosion that had suddenly lost all fuel. Ao Lan Shi, the Quinta Espada, was dead. “Fire, the Sage said.

“Fire or salvation.”

With one step Luucio was at the gates, and with one hand he pushed them open to reveal what lay beyond.

Hueco Mundo was orange and red and gold tonight, not white and grey black. The rocks and sand of Asiento del Dios, which normally could not catch fire, were burning brightly. The screams of women being raped, hollow eating children, and men fighting to their last breath was as thick as the smokestacks gathering above the city. All of this, Luucio ignored. Instead he meandered down the steps, taking his time with each one. His white hakama were torn and frayed, and his sandals and socks were gone. The white of his left eye was black and red, the iris drowned by the congealing blood. When Luucio finally reached the ground, he felt another surge of pain from his soul. She really got me good, he mused.

Calmly, Luucio walked through the burning Asiento. A few arrancar yelled out to him for mercy or help, but he ignored them. Even those in the rebel army drew their swords and attacked. After the first one exploded on contact, the rest stayed their blades. Word began to spread faster than the screams, and soon the chaos quieted. Only whispers and crude comments lived on, as well as the sound of Luucio’s feet on the heated marble.

Eventually the Godking reached the Square. On three sides the buildings framing it had collapsed into smoldering heaps. In the center, shining as carefree as the moon herself, were the Espada Luucio once controlled. Anneliese, who he knew had become disjointed after Nabill left. Carrla, who was as bendable as a reed. Kurisu, who was but a hatchling. And Vaaen himself--stupid, beautiful, noble, angry Vaaen.

Ao Lan Shi was in attendance as well, but he was dead. His heart lay on the ground, bloody and crushed. Luucio’s eyes trailed back up to the standing group. A smile broke across his lips.

“First one to draw blood on me onlys goes into a coma.” Luucio spread his arms out at that and allowed his smile to bare fangs. “That’s a pretty generous offer, don’t you kids think?”