At the same moment Makoto struck, severing the head of another monstrous creature, on another front of the battlefield, Ryoma's squad waged a desperate struggle against the first Frankenstein.
A piercing screech rang out as sharp fangs sank into the beast's Hierro, producing a grating metallic sound. The massive creature's bulk dug into its own surface, but compared to Frankenstein's mountain-like form, it was as insignificant as a burr caught on a trouser leg.
Even so, several Gagaku Kairō swarmed forward, tearing wound after wound into its body.
But such efforts were far from enough.
"Damn it." Ryoma muttered, perched on a treetop, teeth clenched as he watched the faint marks left on Frankenstein heal almost instantly.
He knew his abilities were ill-suited against a creature of this size, but facing it head-on brought a visceral sense of powerlessness.
"Hadō #78: Zangerin!"
A torrent of pale flames erupted from the opposite side of Frankenstein's body. Jūshirō leapt from a tree trunk, hands extended forward.
Yet, even a fully chanted, high-level Hadō in the seventies merely stirred a cloud of diffuse smoke on the creature's massive frame. A spell capable of obliterating a Gillian left only faint scorch marks, barely breaching its Hierro.
Still, it succeeded in drawing the beast's attention to that side.
"Die!"
Seizing the moment, Ryoma shot forward at a speed too fast for the eye to follow, his blade carving a dazzling arc of light through the air.
But in the next second, as his strike landed...
His pupils constricted.
The deep gash he'd carved into the creature's thick neck, though seemingly profound, failed to pierce its full width.
There was hardly any blood.
"This thing…?!"
Before Ryoma could finish his shout, the pain from the neck wound drew Frankenstein's attention back. With a low roar, it swung a pillar-like arm without hesitation, aiming for its own neck.
Ryoma leapt upward, hovering briefly.
Before he could clear much distance, a deafening thud shook the air.
Boom!
The colossal hand slammed into its neck, the resulting dust cloud making the resilient Hierro ripple like ordinary flesh, widening the wound slightly.
The creature let out another pained wail.
But this clumsy-seeming action sent a chill through the hearts of Ryoma's squad.
How could it not?
They'd fought with everything they had, seizing every opportunity to strike.
Yet, their combined efforts inflicted less damage than the creature's own careless blow to itself.
If not for Ryoma, the squad's vice-captain, leading the charge, many would likely be considering a retreat by now.
'Was that… intentional?'
Sōsuke, nerves taut, gripped his blade tightly, staring at the giant monster. His earlier composure was gone.
In the previous assault, he'd capitalized on the opening created by Jūshirō, slashing twice at one of Frankenstein's "rear arms."
But the moment he struck, he realized how terrifyingly tough the creature's body was.
Despite possessing captain-level reiatsu, praised even by Makoto, and swordsmanship rivaling senior officers or even vice-captains, his blade felt like a knife scraping against thick hide, sluggish and labored.
Even with all his strength, he left only a two-meter-long mark on the creature's arm.
For Sōsuke, a prodigy since childhood, this outcome was unacceptable.
Worse still, the creature's reiatsu was overwhelmingly powerful.
Sōsuke looked up, cold sweat sliding down his temple as he watched the malformed monster flail at itself like swatting flies.
He'd tried using Kyōka Suigetsu's hypnosis, only for it to be broken in mere seconds, five or six at most.
For the first time in his young life, Sōsuke understood the limits of his abilities.
'If my Shikai were a flame-type like the Captain-Commander's…'
Unable to accept his powerlessness, the thought gnawed at him.
"Sōsuke! Move!"
In that brief moment of hesitation, a blazing Cero shot toward him from the distance.
Almost simultaneously, before Sōsuke could react, a broad figure appeared before him, sweeping him along the ground like a bolt of black lightning.
Boom!
The spot where Sōsuke had stood erupted into a crater, crimson flames spreading from the blast's center like a scar.
Sōsuke, now airborne, was just two or three meters from the crater's edge, his heart still racing.
"ARRRRHHH!"
As if enraged by the failed strike, Frankenstein's low bellow grew longer and more oppressive.
Ryoma, seemingly relieved, set Sōsuke down to the side.
He had no time to coddle the rookie, his eyes locked on the near-invincible monster, lips pressed tightly together.
Jūshirō and the other squad members leapt into the air again, using Kidō and slashes to draw its attention, giving them a moment to breathe.
In that brief respite, Ryoma seemed to reach a decision, exhaling deeply.
"Sōsuke."
"Here!"
Even as a battlefield novice, Sōsuke knew a Shinigami's duty to obey superiors, responding without hesitation.
Ryoma's tone softened, his hairy hand scratching his disheveled hair as he said with a hint of resignation, "Withdraw from the battlefield."
"What?!"
Almost instinctively, Sōsuke, who should have followed orders, let out a bewildered protest.
"I'm ordering you to inform Jūshirō and those below him to withdraw immediately."
Sensing the order's irregularity, Ryoma's tone shifted to a stern, commanding one, repeating himself firmly.
"Withdraw… eleven. No, twenty kilometers would be better."
His expression was resolute, showing no awareness of ordering his squad to flee like deserters.
Even under the reformed Gotei 13, desertion in battle carried a single penalty, death.
"…"
"Vice-Captain Kuruyashiki." Sōsuke began hesitantly, his tone diplomatic as he tried to convey the consequences. "Even if you're close, Makoto… he'd definitely kill you for this."
"Don't worry."
Ryoma exhaled deeply, flashing a bold grin. "Before I unleash my Bankai, withdrawing that distance is a necessary precaution."
Sōsuke hesitated again.
Bankai was indeed unpredictable.
After a long pause, he looked up. "Understood!"
Ryoma sheathed the Gagaku Kairō, his hand resting on the hilt, gazing at the mountain-like monster.
As Sōsuke departed, Ryoma muttered to himself, "It should be able to take it, right?"
Soon after, as Sōsuke relayed the orders, Ryoma saw Jūshirō glance his way from a distance before leading the remaining squad members away.
Suddenly deprived of the pesky insects drawing its attention, Frankenstein seemed confused, twisting its neck to search for the bugs that struck and fled, ready to unleash another Cero.
After a while, it spotted Ryoma, standing motionless.
Its monstrous maw split into a grotesque grin.
Boom!
A Cero fired.
Ryoma raised his blade before him.
In an instant, a crimson-black light split along the blade's edge, cleaving the Cero effortlessly.
Before it could reach him, the mountain-like beast opened its jaws, lunging as if to crush the tiny figure in its maw.
The seemingly clumsy move unleashed a gale like a blade's cut, its massive body leaving no room to evade.
Ryoma faced the scene, the black abyss of its throat looming near.
A malicious grin spread across his face.
"You think you can swallow me?"
As his words fell, his expression shifted. A wild reiatsu, fiercer than his tangled hair, surged endlessly from the depths of his soul.
It converged entirely on the Zanpakutō in his hand.
Gripping the blade, he stepped forward, his body trembling uncontrollably, as if unable to suppress the pulse from the core of his soul.
The pulse of devouring.
"Bankai!"
"Gagaku Kairō!"
The moment the words faded, a torrent of reiatsu surged skyward like a cascading waterfall, then abruptly dispersed.
It vanished into the vast expanse of the underground desert's center.
But in the next instant, even Frankenstein, still lumbering forward in its slow lunge, felt the ground tremble beneath its feet.
Its forward plunge halted, though its maw remained agape, head swiveling in confusion.
At first, it didn't register the anomaly.
But gradually, it noticed the "sky." once illuminated by glowing moss, now cast with two pitch-black shadows.
The sand beneath began to flow, drawn downward like water, irresistibly pulled.
Initially, it could still stand, but within moments, the ground tilted, making it impossible to remain steady.
"ARRRRRGHH!"
It let out another low, mournful wail, its malformed arms clawing at the surroundings, seeking solid ground in the shifting desert.
The sky darkened, and the sand's flow quickened.
Until, at last, it felt itself drawn into an invisible abyss, falling.
Lifting its head, it caught sight of the Shinigami standing at the center of its vision, as tiny as an insect.
From above, one could see a massive maw, like a clamshell closing from both sides, churning the white desert, uprooting countless pale great trees, engulfing everything within a radius of several tens kilometers. The mountain-like Frankenstein, though immense, was dwarfed by this maw, slowly swallowed into its deepest darkness.
A trap of flowing sand, slow but deadly.
Ryoma looked down at it, his expression cold.
Until the maw fully closed.
At the heart of the once-lush forest, a void appeared abruptly.
He gazed at the monster consumed by his Bankai, rubbing his forehead with a hint of exasperation.
"Now I won't be able to use even my Shikai for at least half a year, will I?"
"What a pain."
…
Meanwhile, in Las Noches.
Swish!
Baraggan Louisenbairn, wielding his black great axe, was enveloped in dark mist, his tattered purple-black robes fluttering as he descended from midair.
The clank of chains echoed as the axe vanished beneath his robes.
Amid the reverent and fearful gazes of the surrounding Adjuchas, Baraggan turned casually, as if unconcerned.
Boom!
Another mountain-like Frankenstein collapsed at the desert's center, kicking up vast clouds of sand.
Nnoitra Gilga, having witnessed the entire battle, stared wide-eyed with his single eye, incredulous at the giant corpse, half-rotted by "decay."
No, not merely "corrosion", "decay" was more fitting.
In mere seconds, its intact flesh seemed to undergo a process of dehydration, withering, and crumbling into bones.
Like a naturally rotted carcass.
In all his time wandering Hueco Mundo, Nnoitra had never seen such an ability outside a Cero.
It was… almost like a Shinigami's Zanpakutō.
With this thought, his gaze returned to Baraggan, who had sheathed his weapon with calm indifference.
Only now did he begin to grasp the true strength of Hueco Mundo's uncrowned king.
'No wonder this guy has survived for millennia…'
But while Nnoitra pondered Baraggan's power, another was quicker to act, fawningly approaching the king with flattery. "Baraggan-sama, truly the mightiest in Hueco Mundo, dispatching this insolent creature with ease."
"But such a rare deformity, may I take its mask as a memento?"
The speaker was none other than Grensor, the crocodilian-skinned Adjuchas who had escorted Nnoitra to Las Noches.
"Fine." Baraggan replied, his interest waning post-battle. He waved a hand dismissively, as if shooing a stray dog.
Grensor, overjoyed, scurried to the still-decaying corpse.
But as his claw grazed the giant's mask,
Splatter!
A sudden anomaly erupted.
The "corpse." Still in the process of decaying, exploded outward in all directions.
Its solid frame liquefied into a viscous flood, surging like a tsunami toward the unprepared Grensor and the nearby Adjuchas.
Devouring. Enveloping.
Without the slightest chance to resist.
---
Hi guys, Elenea here! I just want to announce that starting now I'll be trying to focus on my own original fanfic, which I've been thinking about for the past few days (lol I really mulled this over briefly for a few days and decided I'm going to make it a full novel).
[Worse Than the Devil (DxD)]
Synopsis:
Devil.
An evil and chaotic creature, born from hell, which are often a scapegoat for humans. Blamed for the atrocities they themselves commit.
"The devil made me do it."
A phrase always uttered by humans after committing crimes, casting blame and responsibility for their wrongdoings onto the devil.
But not all humans are like that, for there is one man who would gleefully commit atrocities that would be condemned by all of human history and accept the blame and responsibility for those wrongs with open arms.
His name is Michael, but in stark contrast to the meaning of his name 'Who is like God' he is not a devout man who draws near to God's embrace. Instead… he is the one who sends lost sheep to meet God's embrace much faster.
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Btw, a quick note before you decide to read, if you have a heart as pure as glass, I suggest you don't read this because it REALLY gets dark to early. The first chapter will give you a little idea of what I might explore later on in this fanservice harem-themed world like DxD.
Adios!