Realm of Ruin: A Bleach Story

Prologue: Blood on the Sand

A gust of wind blew over the white sands of Hueco Mundo, bringing with it the stench of death. Pillars of thick smoke rose to the black, cloudless sky, and at their bases were terrible blue flames, casting a baleful cerulean light over the blood-stained sand, overpowering the dim glow of the ever-present crescent moon that loomed above. The roaring fire was spreading, engulfing the white, angular buildings scattered about the place. Many have collapsed into rubble, the flame burning away the very reishi that constituted all matter in Hueco Mundo. Writhing on the sand were dozens of people, some humanoid, some less so. All were covered in blood, mortally wounded or dead. Several figures stood over them, dressed in long white cloaks and wielding spears bearing the tattered banners of a long defeated army. One of these figures took his spear and drove it into the back of a woman trying to crawl away from the slaughter, finishing her off. His face was expressionless as he did this, his eyes hidden from view behind his mask, which resembled the skull of a raven and covered the upper potion of his face. Jet black hair fell to the man's narrow shoulders, in stark contrast to his pale skin. He was tall, almost unnaturally so, and his thin body gave him a look of frailty.

"Zikiel," a voice from behind the man wearing a raven skull called. "Is there any sign of our quarry?"

"None yet, sir." Zikiel answered. He turned away from his victim to face the voice. Placing his weapon's shaft firmly on the ground, Zikiel straightened his posture as the source of the voice approached. Unlike Zikiel, the man before him bore a mask that covered the entirety of his head. Four black, backwards-curving horns protruded from the top and sides of the mask, which resembled the skull of a goat in all aspects save for the sharp, wicked teeth. The man stood as tall as Zikiel, yet was considerably broader, and had a more powerful appearance. Unlike his allies, this man wore a cloak that was deep red, like dried blood.

"That cannot be," the goat-masked man said. "Look harder."

"Yes, Master Varaun. What we seek is here, there is no doubt. We shall bring it to you," promised Zikiel, inclining his head to Varaun. Turning on his heel, Zikiel moved to join his comrades that were digging through the rubble in search of their prize. Their razing of this small Arrancar village was messier than Zikiel had hoped, since those who lived there put up an unexpected fight. Worried Zikiel was not, however, as he has yet to see one of his comrades fall at the hands of a mere Arrancar since they began their search months ago.

Lost in thought, Zikiel almost didn't notice when one of the bodies strewn on the sand began to rise. Zikiel turned to face it, regarding it with his concealed eyes. Before him, a bloodied Arrancar stood up slowly. A fragment of a mask covered his lower jaw, and two short tusks protruded from it. The dark brown hair atop his head was singed from the flame, and parts of his attire were torn away, ugly burns on his flesh underneath.

Without a word, Zikiel raised his hand and pointed a finger at the wounded Arrancar, a ball of red energy forming on the tip. The ball of energy flew from Zikiel's finger towards the tusked Arrancar, but before it connected, the Arrancar dodged with an impossible burst of speed beyond a human's perception and ability to react.

But Zikiel was far beyond human.

Whipping around to face the Arrancar who'd dashed behind him, Zikiel discarded his spear, drew his sword, and blocked the man's strike all in a blink of an eye. Astounded by Zikiel's speed, the Arrancar pulled back, narrowly evading Zikiel's blade as he brought it around in a side-ward slash. Seeing an opening, Zikiel's opponent closed in, only to fall for Zikiel's feint. The Arrancar's strike was deflected and his stance was left open for a brief moment as he recovered. Taking advantage of the opening, Zikiel lunged forward, plunging his blade in between the Arrancar's ribs. Pulling his weapon out of his opponent and flicking away the blood, he watched the Arrancar fall to the ground, coughing up blood.

But before Zikiel could finish him off, the Arrancar uttered a few words through the pain.

"Ravage, Mamut Blanco!"

There was a burst of white energy, which forced Zikiel back a few steps. His comrades who happened to be watching the battle unfold all shielded their eyes or averted their gaze, but Zikiel merely stared at the explosion of spirit energy, the visible parts of his face inscrutable. After a few moments, the energy dissipated, and the Arrancar emerged, almost unrecognizable. All his injuries were healed, and he was now twice as tall and three times as broad. White armor covered the entirety of his body, and his face was now concealed by a large, tusked skull. Running down his back was a coat of thick brown fur, and in both hands he wielded two spiked clubs. With renewed vigor, the mammoth Arrancar charged at Zikiel again, roaring loudly.

As the giant barreled towards him, Zikiel's expression didn't change. His posture remained calm and his sword strokes remained precise even as the giant barraged him with powerful strikes, all of which he either dodged or parried with ease. The mammoth, on the other hand, was incurring dozens of shallow cuts on his body, lost in his rampage. Growing tired of the fight, Zikiel disappeared and reappeared behind the Arrancar, and before the giant could react, Zikiel released a ball of red energy which struck his opponent in the back. The attack blew a clean hole through the Arrancar's abdomen, and once again he fell to his knees.

Smoke rose from the mammoth Arrancar's armor, and slowly his body began to dissipate. First his skull, then his armor, then eventually both his weapons. Left behind was the brown-haired man that Zikiel had so easily beaten. Dashing forward, Zikiel grabbed the man by the neck and lifted him up. He struggled against the raven-masked man, but he was powerless against him.

"You are beaten," said Zikiel without emotion. "Now tell me, where is the Restante Oscuro?"

The man spat blood at him. Zikiel didn't react. "That knowledge will die with me, traitor. Kill me already. You've failed." The man mustered a spiteful smile, believing he'd thwarted his foe. That smile faded as quickly as it appeared when a shrill scream tore through the sound of crackling flame. Zikiel turned to face the noise.

Being dragged by two white-clad soldiers was a raven-haired woman with a quarter of her face obscured by a mask fragment. She struggled against the soldiers, but she was helpless. Her legs dragged behind her, one bending the wrong way. The Arrancar that Zikiel had in his grip turned too, and a look of recognition and horror formed on his face. Zikiel cocked his head to the side, regarding both the man and woman with his shadowed eyes.

"Lureia!" The brown-haired Arrancar shouted upon seeing the woman. "Why did you come back?"

"I'm sorry... They... They caught me. I never even made it over the hill. I'm so sorry, Roggio," the woman said through weak sobs. One of the soldiers dug his boot into her back to force her onto her knees, putting weight on her broken leg. She screamed.

"Stop!" Roggio pleaded, but his begging fell on uncaring ears.

"Tell me where the Restante Oscuro is, or the woman dies," Zikiel threatened. Roggio's gaze snapped towards him. Once again the battlefield fell silent, the only sound being the sharp crackling of the blue flame greedily consuming everything in its wake.

"Well?" Zikiel asked once more, an edge of irritation in his voice. Roggio stared deep into the black crevices where Zikiel's eyes should be for what seemed like an eternity, and a primal fear overcame him. It was but a glint of light that he glimpsed in those baleful eye sockets, yet it was enough to melt away what resolve he had left. For the first time, the Arrancar trembled.

Roggio began to speak, and all Lureia could do was weep.