Chapter 64: The Endless War III
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Chapter 64: The Endless War III
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He drove the lance straight through the Gillian's mask.
The creature roared as if it felt pain. Its body fell backward, landing with an earth-shattering thud.
Akashi didn't wait. He dashed across its massive form, using it like a road, launching off the side into the next fray.
Blood sprayed.
Bone cracked.
Mask after mask shattered beneath the edge of Kurayami. The weapon shifted constantly; sword to spear, spear to halberd, halberd to blade, blade to shield.
He never stopped moving. His body blurred in and out of flash step, always dancing just a breath beyond death.
But they were endless.
For every one he struck down, five more lunged. They bit, clawed, and lashed.
Sometimes, he was too slow; mostly not by lack of skill, but sheer numbers.
Sometimes, however, he makes mistakes. A missed flash step, a split-second of recoil; and claws raked across his back.
He rasped. His robes split. Three crimson lines tore down his spine, bleeding hot across his skin.
He took a deep breath, but he didn't falter. He didn't stop. If anything, he moved faster.
No matter what he did, they always ended up getting to him, and no amount of technique seemed to be capable of stopping that.
There were simply too many. From the shadows. From the horde. At least one manages to sneak up on him or reach him while distracted.
His eyes narrowed into slits. A black glow pulsed from his pupils, his sclera slowly inked with creeping veins of shadow.
He learned from the mistake.
That Hollow died two seconds later, body flattened beneath the momentum of Kurayami's halberd form, its skull caved in like a crushed pumpkin.
The others learned nothing.
They kept coming.
Claw after claw. Scream after scream. Gillians towered, Ceros rained, and smaller Hollows dove from above like vultures.
Akashi's breathing began to grow ragged. His hair clung to his face, soaked with sweat and blood; some his, most not.
Cuts appeared along his arms, legs, and shoulders. Nothing fatal. Nothing that would stop him.
He wouldn't allow it.
Injuries, he does not mind. Scars? Merely traces of the past. His body is merely a tool to him, so what if it gets broken?
However, he couldn't allow himself to be too broken. He must still fight.
Therefore, as long as he stood in the end, injuries won't matter to him as he continued to feed on darkness.
Kurayami drank deeply.
Every Hollow he slew fed it. Darkness poured from their broken masks, flooding into the blade.
With each kill, more voices echoed in his mind; anguished, furious, whispering; pleading, and condemning in equal measure.
"Save me!"
"Pain! So much pain!"
"Don't kill me!!"
"Leave me alone!"
"Please free me!"
These damn Voices! They do not stop, feeding him the last memories of the corrupted hollows before they had become what they are now.
No, they're also feeding him their darkest thoughts, and there were many, too many for his mind to handle.
Kurayami, so strong was she, yet she brought with her such an insurmountable burden.
He felt like he was losing his identity, losing himself in the darkest of thoughts, dreams, and visions.
He closed his eyes for half a second, exhaled; and opened them again.
Now even his whites were gone, swallowed by shade.
A living storm churned behind his gaze. Lightning danced along his blade, black and violet.
Thunder cracked behind his swings. His attacks now carried more than Reiryoku; they carried the fruits of his horrors' labor.
He cleaved through a wave of six in one motion.
Their bodies erupted with arcs of Black Lightning; the unholy fusion of Hadō #63: Raikōhō and Zanjutsu, crafted through his collaboration with the worker horrors in his City.
Their charred husks dropped one by one, eyes still glowing as they disintegrated.
He panted.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been fighting. Hours, maybe. Days. There was no sun here. Only shadow.
Hueco Mundo is in perpetual Night, with only a crescent moon that barely shines. Who knows where it gets its faint light from?
And screams.
And blood.
And then...
His body twisted.
It seemed to be instinct, as if something was wrong. The hair on the back of his neck prickled.
The black sphere on his chest pulsed as if warning him.
Akashi leapt sideways.
Too slow.
Claws raked through his side, just beneath the ribs. His stomach twisted, blood spurting in a thick arc.
The force pierced his stomach, the claws seemingly seeking to travel deep within.
Pain flooded in.
He looked up.
The Hollow that stood before him wasn't like the others.
Tall, armored in bone, mask intricate and serrated, its eyes burned with intelligence and hunger.
An Adjuchas.
It sneered, trying to pull its hand back to strike again, but...
Akashi grinned.
Not from joy. From fever.
A thin laugh escaped his mouth, and he moved forward, closer to the Adjuchas, making sure the claw stayed within.
The black in his eyes twisted and churned like ink in boiling water.
"Oh, how I missed pain... It's lovely, you should feel it too." He said, voice lower than usual, nearly feral, spoken as if only in a moment.
The Adjuchas froze, alarm bells ringing in his ears. The change was sudden. The arrogance in its posture faltered.
Too late.
Kurayami was already in motion.
Akashi swung from the hip; clean, brutal. The black blade gleamed for half a second.
The Adjuchas screamed.
Its leg; gone. A clean cut through the thigh, black ichor spraying as the Hollow leaping backward on one limb, screeching in rage and disbelief.
Had the Adjuchas not reacted fast enough, he would've been separated into two, but he did react, so Akashi settled for the next best possible thing, his leg.
The leg that fell to the ground found itself nailed by Kurayami's, devouring all the darkness within before destroying it whole.
"I love to trade, eye for eye, blood for blood," Akashi muttered, blood leaking from his side, "How did you like the trade?"
He stood tall again, shoulders rolled back, despite the open wound. Despite the exhaustion. Despite the voices screaming in his skull.
It wasn't over.
Akashi's instinct wouldn't allow it. The trade must continue. Indeed, that's his instinct, not to avoid the mass of darkness that tried to sneak attack him, but to trade blood for blood.
How could he not take the opportunity of taking the hollow's leg for himself when he would only sacrifice a twisted stomach?
Sure, the trades are often than not unfair to the opponent, but that's the point of Akashi's brutal style of war.
The hollow before him was the perfect example.
The Adjuchas fell to a crouch, bracing its bulky frame on three limbs. Despite the loss of a leg, its strength hadn't diminished too much.
It can still fight.
Its long, armored arms pressed against the ground, disturbing the pale sands with clawed fingers as it balanced itself like a savage beast.
The Hollow's silhouette trembled with rage, its body low to the ground but coiled like a spring.
It screeched, a warped, serrated voice full of loathing, "A Shinigami… here? Thought I'd surprise you, thought I'd make you scream…"
The voice was high and sharp, like metal scraping against bone, distorted by the jagged hole in its throat that passed for a mouth, "But now you've made me mad, insect! You'll suffer for that!!"
Akashi stood still, shadows flickering around his feet like oil. His clothes were bloodied, clawed through at the back, yet he showed no sign of strain beyond the weariness in his shoulders.
Blood dried black on his skin beneath his torn robes. His breath was slow, steady, sharp as razors.
"Voices," He muttered, dragging a hand down the side of his face, smearing blood and grime across his cheek, "Then you. Somehow… you're even more annoying. You're a fucking miracle!"
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