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Maskmonk

The Unstoppable Force

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Maskmonk    331

Ooc - hoping to make a return to my Roleplay. Have a lot of unfinished business and hope to possibly rekindle some fires of other Roleplayer or new ones.

The vast desert of Hueco Mundo, endless white sand under a pale moon and know one knew this better than the Arrancar Monk. Wandering for what felt like month now. Monk had finally come to understand the meaning of endless, this desert went on forever and even without allies he would strive towards an endless life. The Espada, the worthless Espada had given him nothing. They did not have the strength he required, the raging battle against Vatto had proven that much. This far into Hueco Mundo, Monk didn't expect to see anyone or anything. The absence of all life was more comforting than any company he'd ever indulged in. His thoughts were all that were left to keep him company along with his zanpakuto. However his thought, dreams and fears weren't the best company to have with him at all time. As Monk progressed further and further into the desert, the loneliness gnawed at Monk brain, if anyone did turn up, they'd be no ally, if the chains came for him. He rattled his head to rid himself of the sound of chains. But he was never truly rid of them. They haunted him when he rested or when his thoughts drifted. 

"How long have you been walking?" Someone asked him. "Months? Maybe a year now...... What are you hoping to find? Salvation? Peace? An answer or an end?" Monk swings his zanpakuto behind him, but cuts nothing but thin air. "Why not let a hollow devour you, wouldn't that bring peace to you?" The voice continued to mock him. "Emptiness". That was what Monk was looking for, even though he detested Shinigami, if he was far enough away, surely they'd never bother him, never come searching for him. Without shinigami, without them, his chances at survive rose. If it cost him his sanity, it didn't matter. Monk had lost hope in now finding a cause, finding a purpose. Nothing. Nothing was worthy of him. No Great War, no journey of enlightenment and no peace worth fighting for. 

"Shame....." , "what's that?" "That Arrancar was worth something, shame he decided to join that worthless Espada. If anyone could have been a worthy ally it was him." Monk remembered his latest right well. His blood hadn't had the chance to rush like that for a long time. But it was all for nought, nothing but a slightly amusement. "And a great inconvenience...." Monk cackled to himself as he looked over to his left arm, completely deprived of clothing to cover the scarred limb, as it had been torn off. No.... much more than torn, it had been erased, during his fight he'd been left with nothing, but a great chunk missing out of his shoulder, that damned Kyohi or whatever Vatto called it had 'rejected' the very existence of Monk's limb, which in turn sent Monk into a fit of rage as he tired to tear Vatto limb from limb and would have succeeded had it not been for the spectators intervening. But had it not been for Vatto he would not have his left arm back. Once the conflict had settled. Vatto used his abilities to not exactly heal, but at least rejuvenate his limb. Which is something Monk never had the pleasure of, having traded all his regenerative abilities for superior strength and what he thought was an unbreakable Heirro. "Had we journeyed together it would have only ended in conflict to produce the strongest among us" Monk argued with himself as he'd experienced destroying someone he once traveled with not long before he turned Arrancar. "Allies are pointless eventually they'll turn against you for their own gain. You can only trust yourself" Monk says out loud looking into the distance and spotting something out of place.
An object, bold and vast in size. 'It couldn't be Las Noches? Surely I haven't been going in a circle' Monk thought to himself as he continued walking towards the object and as he got ever closer as the distance was always exaggerated when all there was between one thing or another was sand.

As Monk finally reached the object. Monk stared pulled..... 'A boulder' he think. "It's not that unlikely, they must have built Las Noches from something" the voice talk to him again. It wasn't smooth, the boulder was jagged in places, smooth in others, but nothing like the stone that held up Las Noches. It seemed out of place. Monk placed his left hand against the boulder, he hadn't had chance to test out his rejuvenated arm, He pushes against the great bolder. But it remains firm, which Monk would have normally thought impossible. He switches over and uses his right arm and attempts to move the boulder. But still it remains firm and unmoved. Monk took his zanpakuto out of his belt and left it standing in the ground. Walking several feet back Monk expelled the first burst of energy he had in month as he sprinted towards the boulder and crashed into it. Still the great monolith stood against him. 'Never have I ever found something I could not move' Monk was baffled, either his strength had diminished from the lack of activity during these last long month or the battle from Vatto had taken that greater a toll on his body. Monk took his zanpakuto and fit it back into his belt. Then he dug his feet deep into the sand, one behind the other and placed both hands on the opponents that lay before him and he pushed. The colossal boulder still refused to move. "What are you doing?" He heard the voice. Monk was afraid of his answer. "Odd isn't it. Something that rivals my strength, is something as simple as this...." Monk growls putting all his strength into move the monolith. "My strength is unrivalled." Monk focused as he took a step forward and the great boulder shifted. As Monk pushed its true size was revealed as it was unearthed. But Monk fought on, pushing a simple but immense foe towards an unseen goal.  

 

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Maskmonk    331

Embracing the cold still air, Monk now laying on top of the giant monolith he had been pushing for days now. He didn't know where he was taking it. What he did know though, was that it was coming with him. It gave him something of worth to prove that he could move this and that his strength was on another level.  Nothing else seemed important, even the hollows that had followed the trail he'd left in the sand. They roared and screamed unable to do anything about his position on top of the monolith. He could no longer remember when he was just a lesser hollow. No better than an animal. 'I suppose I wouldn't have know that back then though' Monk thought sitting up seeing that once again nothing and no one was around him anymore. "

"Why are you doing this?" Monk turned around. An arrancar sat beside him. Similar to him, its mask was cracked roughly down the middle and wore white robes, but in comparison to Monks they were far cleaner and the arrancar appeared to be a lot younger than he was. "Doing what?" Monk questioned. "Nothing. Your goal is pointless, what do you gain?" The arrancar questioned him. "I prove my-" , "you prove nothing! You showed your strength, once there would have been at time when a hollow would not approach you. The Espada would have been proud to have you in their ranks. You are a failure and this, this thing you call a foe, is holding you back and in the end will only get you killed." The arrancar swings his fist down onto the giant bolder, cracking the top of it. "If I attract attention to myself again. If I raise an army, if I raise my strength, if I join an alliance, my chances of dying rise." Monk flinches as he hears something behind him and he stands up to see if he could see what had made it. "Then your existence is point!" The arrancar bellows standing up, challenging Monk. "I will not end my existence!" Monk goes to challenge the arrancar, slamming his foot down on the arrancars leg. But the arrancar had already disappeared and all he had achieved was expanding the crack on the bolder. Monk jumped off the bolder back to the bottom and began pushing again. 

"MONK" the arrancar had reappeared throwing a fist at his head, but he had already revealed himself by shouting. Monk dodged the punch by sidestepping to the left and using the momentum to change into a kick, but this missed the arrancar had jumped and was already aiming his heel towards Monks temple. Once again it missed and Monks next attack did and the arrancars attack after that. This pointless fight raged on, every attack that the arrancar threw missed. Unknowingly destroying what he wished to save. Monks final swing, once again missed the arrancar who was once again gone and Monks fists had landed into one of the cracked lumps of the bolder, looking further upon the battlefield, Monk found the lump was one of many. "I've saved you from your pointless goal" the voice whispers to him.

In a fit of rage, Monk leaps into the battlefield once again. Crushing the last fragments of the bolder, if it was going to be destroyed it would be by his own hand. He tosses and crushes and smashes all the blocks together slowly eroding it down into the white sand beneath his feet. Only showing him that his goal, what he thought was a foe was in fact worth nothing. It was as pathetic and pointless as the thousands of grains of white sand that rested beneath his feet, it had been greater than him for a time. But he had mastered it. Pushing it the great distance that he had, had once again bolstered his strength. Monk began to wheeze breathing in the sand that was settling down from his massacre. Then he began to cough and slowly he turned into a laugh. "I truly am my greatest ally" Monk said to himself still laughing. 

Once Monk had got over his recollection, he ran deeper into the desert of Hueco Mundo, the vast endless desert and in Monks head, if the desert was endless then surely there would be endless goal to conquer. Which in turn would make him stronger and help him survive, that was all he ever wanted. The rattling of his nightmares had never felt so far away and if he kept running then he would only make the distance greater. There were so many goals to choose from in Hueco Mundo however and not all of them worthy of Monk. Finding the ones of worth would be a great challenge in itself. However one shortly presented itself, the spindly white tips of a Menos forest stood in the distance. If something could be of worth, it could be there. So Monk marched on, his eyes fixated on his destination.

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Maskmonk    331

A Menos forest could be the beginning of many great hollows and was once what Monk would have called home. Menos Grande, Adjuchas even Vatso lordes could call a forest it's home, a great place to feast on hollows regularly and a even better place to find ally's. If there where any hollows with the intelligence to speak and as of recent Monk had only come across screamers. Unable to make sense of his words and attack him relentlessly. But it didn't matter to Monk, any lesser hollow was unable to hurt him and thus Monk didn't fight back. He had at least some mercy for his own kind, especially when they were so inexperienced that they would attack him. But with the level of spiritual pressure Monk was releasing, which was very little, as he had little use of it when there where no worthy enemies about. It was no wonder lesser hollows and adjuchas didn't perceive him as a threat themselves. 

Monk eventually reached the decent that lead to the Menos forest and walked down. He sensed plenty of spiritual pressure. Perhaps he had traveled enough distance in Hueco Mundo to actually reach some form of life again and as Monk descended further he realised why all these hollows where so far out in Hueco Mundo. Monk knew how natural it was for hollows to feast on one another to become a Menos. But what he saw, amazed him. Lesser hollows seemed to be talking to one another, which wasn't out of the ordinary, what was, was the number of hollows almost as if they were cooperating and deeper in the forest Monk saw Menos with unique masks, almost as if this was a farm for hollow. "Madness isn't it, to think we can be civilised" the voice whispers in his head. "In the end what will they become, they will be slain and will go to Seritei, just like every other hollow and they will turn against you as shinigami" Monk stumbles on his way down, this was true. In this state, as lesser hollows and Menos, they didn't even stand a chance against shinigami. "What do I do?" Monk asked. "Devour them...." Monks spiritual pressure explodes in a fit of madness, but he pulls it back, forcing it under control. But he had already attracted the attention of every hollow in the Menos forest and everyone of them stared, stunned and to afraid to battle a monster like him. 

However calmly Monk makes the rest of his way down into the pit of hollows. 'I'm not a mindless hunter anymore' he thinks to himself parting his hand away from the hilt of his zanpakuto. Monk then took a deep breath as he walked into the middle of all the lesser hollow. "What do you think you can accomplish like this, your all far too weak, you also lack a leader. Someone to protect you from yourselves and the enemies you cannot defeat" Monk says in a low voice as he did not need to raise his voice to be heard. "I can make you stronger and lead you to a future and not towards a simple slaughter from the accursed shinigami." The mocking and familiar voice continues to taunt him though his speech. 'You fool, once they've grown strong they will turn against you. No, no that's not it is it. You'll devour them, your helping them the same way a farmer breeds pigs. For the slaughter.' 

All seemed to be going Monks way. He could lead this small army to a better future, if he kept them under his thumb they would protect him in time and he for now could protect them. However not all of them shared his view. He'd kept his back turned for too long. A large ape like hollow clamps it's mouth around Monk, but only ends up with a lump in its throats as Monk forces the jaws of the hollow open and brings its mask to the ground, kicking and thrashing it try's to escape. 'If they won't accept my offer, it will be forced upon them until they see sense' with that Monk claws his hand and presses it against the eye socket of the hollow which had attacked him and slowly pushes it in, instantly blood begins to flow and screams flow just as well. "Please stop it hurts!!!!" The hollow screams. "Now you talk, your action spoke for you however. I offered you strength and you turned it down. I will have you pay a price. But not the ultimate one" Monk pulls his clawed hand away from the hollow and let's him go, it them scrambles and retreats into the crowed. "We are not mindless and we are not savages. You seek power" 
'And I seek a goal' 
"You have until I return" Monk says as he disperses the crowd of hollows as he walks. Returning to the entrance of the forest. What he had offered is what he was once offered and it took time to understand and accept. Which he hoped for their sake. They accepted 

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Maskmonk    331

Monk had no intention of rushing back, he wanted to rest, but he no longer slept well, in fact he rarely got any sleep at all. Instead he often dreamt of things coming to kill him, giant beasts with skulls as head, pulling him down into the ground and crushing his Hierro, the very thing Monk relied on to protect him. "You think they will protect you, is that your cunning plan" Monk rolled his head over to see the arrancar he'd seen before resting next to him, underneath the tip of a white tree that peeked out of the Menos forest. "It's got nothing to do with that" Monk said feeling they'd had this conversation before. "They're far to weak, how long will it even take the Menos to get to point when they can evolve into Adjuchas and even then, most of them will fail and evolve back into Menos. Not every hollow has the determination to make it to Vasto." The arrancar argued. "It's got nothing to do with strength" Monk replied rolling his head to the other side, only to find that the arrancar was there, sat in the same position. "Then what's it got to do with then? Company? If you wanted that you should have stuck with the Espada" , "the Espada a foolish and weak minded, they have no goal, they're nothing but a name!" Monk stood up approaching the arrancar. "So what? Your gonna create an army that has a goal, like the one you abandoned" with this last comment Monk swung his fists at the arrancar, but only hit thin air. The arrancar had disappeared, but his voice still lingers. "Isn't that why you left, they will NEVER share your goal" Monk was now leaning his head against the wall, his zanpakuto in hand. He begins his march back down to the Menos forest. 

 

With his spiritual pressure slightly raised, some of the hollows he had spoken to began to crowd around the entrance. One that seemed more confident than the rest walked in front of the crowd, Monk recognised it as the one addressing the hollows before he had arrived. "Where have you been? We expected you sooner?" The hollow questioned. "I've only been gone for a few hours" Monk said his grip tightening on his zanpakuto. "You've been gone for several days" the Hollow replied. "But we are ready to help-" the hollow started. But Monk had silenced him with his zanpakuto. "I don't need your help, I never did" Monk said as he dashed though the body of the dead hollow and drove his zanpakuto though an line of hollows like they were nothing but air. Every hollow in the forest reacted to this like animals should. They ran. But there was very little point, for a monster like Monk this was like catching fish in a barrel. The hollows were a worthless bore, the Menos were a game and what Adjuchas there were. Were a slightly amusement. But before long Monk had slaughtered the entire forest, covered from head to toe in blood his white robes had never been dyed so red, the sensation of liquid pouring down his body after so long in this desert it was also greatly refreshing. Monk wiped his blood socked robes over his forehead, letting the blood run over his nose and dripping onto his lip, which he lapped up. "I told you there was no point, there were far to weak" the arrancar rested on his back whispering into Monks ear. "Your right.... weak, pointless, pathetic, useless, they didn't even serve me anything worth consuming. NO spiritual pressure, NO worthy Hierro. NOTHING" Monk swung his zanpakuto at the arrancar resting on him, but as per usual missed. "Now now, you can't kill me, that would be rather.... detrimental" the arrancar pushed Monk over with a single finger and Monk landed in the pool of blood and burst out laughing, uncontrollably and manically.

 

Ooc- sorry for the long wait and short post, just need to post something to feel I'm still working on Monk though

Edited by Maskmonk
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Death was always on the horizon and this was even more so for Hueco Mundo, especially for a particular forest right now. Blood and guts spilled everywhere as if a monsoon of death rained down on the forests inhabitants; and from the perspective of those that were dying it indeed had. Death had struck them like an unstoppable force in which they could only cower in front of, similar to shark at a buffet. Though they met their demise the insignificant Hollows should have been thankful for being slain by the strong in such away. Had Monk wanted to he could have snuffed them out by simply raising his spiritual pressure yet he graced them with the presence of his powerful, vice like, hands. Yes thankful was how they should have felt though it was the furthest thought from any of their minds…

 

Sama’el continued to fall prey to his sin of Acadia but even he couldn’t resist such ceremonious presentation. From far beyond the shadows he watched as the Arrancar danced to a rhythm that was his own, like a tribe preforming a sacrificial ritual. Many would consider him on the fast track to becoming a mad man but the “Grim Reaper” saw something else. He saw an artist preparing for a masterpiece that he had yet to but on canvas; oh and what a sight it would be to behold. 

 

Remaining hidden from the living only those that were dying could see the ominous spectator. Whether it was an inherent weakness or done on purpose no one knew but what was certain was that the image of a living “Death” would never leave their broken minds. “Glorious,” he says to himself though not a soul could hear nor see the wicked smile upon his face. As the blood begins to settle “Death” leaves without a shred of living proof as if he was never there in the first place…

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Maskmonk    331

Monk awoke in the same pool of blood he had fallen asleep laughing in, his body felt refreshed and cool in the endless night. The knowledge of the slaughter bring him peace of mind and a reason to sleep with ease. Monk grinned at the prospect of doing similar another night should other hollows intrude on his privacy. "I told you they weren't worth anything." Monk turned to find the arrancar resting in the pool of blood with him. "And I will only grow stronger with-" , "no Monk, not with their deaths. Worthless. That was just a slaughter make you feel alive once again. Death was close, but now you are away from its door and we shall see where you end up." Monk sat up. He was right, Monk thought as he sat up with the blood dripping off his robes and back into the pool. He pushed himself up with his zanpakuto and rested it in his belt. Monk looked down at his fists and clenched it, he hadn't felt like this for a long time, but was it the goal he was looking for, what was all this slaughter even for? "Not slaughter, progress...."'the arrancar whisper as he appeared in front of Monk with his hand held out. He took the arrancar hand and in the next second found him self launched towards the exit of the Menos Forest, using a Sonido the finish the distance and land firmly on the soft sand. Monk picked a direction at random and ran. He trusted his instincts to tell him where he wanted to go, which was always forward towards something greater. "Too long I have sat ideally by, I will make a change that the entire world will feel." Monk pushed off the ground hard, leaving a small cloud of sand where he had launched himself from. 

 

Once the desert of Hueco Mundo felt endless to Monk, however now the distance between even seemed like nothing. Once he had trudged now he tore towards his new destination. The next Menos forest. As he had started his journey this time. He didn't know what to expect their. Hollows, Menos. But in honesty he hoped for greater enemies. Vasto lordes, even an arrancar perhaps. He pulled out this zanpukto and dived forward. Driving the blade into the ground he then used his zanpakuto as a hold, bending his arms and them thrusting with his legs shot forward, exiting the move with a roll of the soft sand and then only moments later a fist swung at him, monk was far to fast for a simple trick. "Again! Are you with me or against me" , "until you are set on the course I want push you down and pick you up as many times as it takes." The arrancar was now carrying a blade a zanpakuto. "Where did you get that from?" Monk questioned as he swung his own zanpakuto, pick up the sand of Hueco Mundo a propelling them towards the arrancar. "It's been at my side all this time. It always has" the arrancar lunged forward his blade centred for Monks stomach. However Monk neither hesitated or dodged. He let the blade pass though his hollow hole and then brought his own blade plummeting towards the arrancar, to Monks surprise though the arrancar did not dodge, instead he caught it with his hand. "Is that all you've got Monk, you could be so much more....." the arrancar growled and began crushing Monks zanpakuto. 

 

With this a primal fury grew in Monk and his fist rocketed towards the arrancar and this time the arrancar moved, jumping backwards and landing further away. Monk sharply looked towards his zanpakuto and the blade was bent and buckled. Monk pulled the blade back and launched it towards the arrancar, aiming for a small target his eye. But of course the small target was an easy dodge or would have been had it not being what Monk wanted as the blade passed the arrancar, Monk was already waiting behind him and caught the blade, his next swing would have decapitated any other creature Monk came across. But this arrancar was cruel, but honest with his power and stopped the blade with the back of his hand. "You've lost so much" Monk heard the crack of the arrancar knuckles and he clenched his fist and the next thing Monk knew was he was lying flat on the white sand. He looked around, but there wasn't a soul to be seen. His zanpakuto was as sharp as ever with not sign of it being crushed and his robes un-pierced by any blade. "What do you know? I've lost nothing!" Monk screaming, shouting at the air. As he whipped his blade out to the side to assert his dominance he heard the wind rush at the swing of his arm and his blade and them he rested his zanpakuto in his belt. Continuing his journey, but with a silent determination.

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Maskmonk    331

Monk walked the rest of his journey, opening and closing a fist he stared. He'd never felt this strong. But also never this weak. The arrancar which followed him. It mimic his technique and fighting style to perfection, what it greatly out matched him in though was strength. Which Monk found baffling, never in all his time had he met a arrancar that was stronger than him physically. Perhaps on par with his strength, but never greater. In fact the arrancar flaunted its strength, as if the strength Monk possessed was but a fraction of what the arrancar held. "That's right" Monk hears a voice, but decided to ignore it. "I'm talking to you" a hand appears on Monk chest, but he does not stop walking, instead he pushes against it, making the arrancar slip in the sand backwards, until he firms his grip and stops Monk dead in his tracks. "You can't ignore me Monk." , "get yours hands off me" Monk grips the arrancars wrist, challenging him. "You've again some, but nothing in comparison to what I hold" the arrancar slowly reaches forward and grabs Monks wrist and starts squeezing hard and in moment and to Monks horror his Hierro gives way. Like an egg cracking under pressure, blood gushing out from each crack and finally in utter agony, Monk falls to his knees, his crushed hand still within the arrancars grip. "This is your greatest weakness Monk. Your Hierro, you may think you know your weaknesses, but I know them far better than you" the arrancar drops Monks crippled and letting Monk cradle it with his other hand. "What do you possibly want to prove, if your stronger than me, KILL ME" Monk shouts. The arrancar stops and looks past Monk and into the distance, then his gaze returns to Monk, not just at him, but into Monk, the very depths of his being and taking hold of Monks throat. "No ones stronger than you" lifting him up and standing him on his feet. When Monk looks more closely, there is no one around and his hand undamaged, he stops cradling it and look around suspiciously. Nothing and no one, the only thing that remotely showed signs of people was his own foot prints and his shuffling in the sand moments ago.

 

After this insane confrontation Monk moves on paranoid more than anything. He appeared out of no where and disappeared just as well. Was he truly that fast as well as that strong. But past what Monk thought of his strength and speed, Monk was unsure as to whether he had an ally or an enemy. Yes he and this arrancar disagreed, but even during there confrontations he never came away fatally wounded, the arrancar always left Monk the way they started. But even with these 'friendly spar' or if they were honest to God threats. Monk couldn't be sure. Never the less, Monk knew where his next goal was and it was ahead, it didn't matter what, but he would find a new one.

 

Monk awoke to an cold feeling. Something dripping on his scalp. He curled up trying to avoid it. But it was dropping onto him in more than one place. On his body, feet, hands. Monk opened his eyes to find a hollow directly in his face. But it was dead. It's jaw snapped in two, being forced to the point of breaking. Monk pushed in order to get the hollow off. But it only shuffled. Monk pushed hard this time and found another hollow in his way and another and another. Until he finally clambered out on top of a mountain of couples. "Who did this?" Monk questioned out loud. "You did...." the arrancar spoke clambering out the same place he just had. "I don't remember" Monk said slowly holding his head trying to remember. "What happened?" He finally questions. "Don't know. You just did it." With this answer, Monk could on be silent. "You did this...." Monk accused. "Yes I did" the arrancar replies. "Yes I did" the arrancar voice echoes and he disappears and as the arrancar disappears, so does Monk. He clambers down off the pile of corpses and moves on. He didn't care about the death of all those hollow. In fact he was glad, happy as he walked away laughing. His zanpakuto and his fists drenched in blood.

 

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Yet again a ritual, that could be for none other than himself, called out to him with an unrelenting urge that could not be ignored. Like an animal in berserk mode a single Arrancar snapped, torn, or ripped limps from bodies leaving behind empty, soulless husks. Tens of dozens of bodies littered the sandy surroundings amassing into a single large mound. 

 

Any who came across the scene would think it to be the workings of a rabid Hollow simply because of the extreme brutality and gruesomeness. But for the few that witnessed it knew it to in fact be an Arrancar shrouded in a deep trance. Not as if being manipulated by an outside source but captivated by the killing itself. Many had questioned how someone could create such an evil word out of laughter. But one look at Monk killing and laughing at the same time you’d would get the idea of why the word slaughter was formed. 

 

Those that knew the ominous figure peering undetected from the shadows fine it hard to believe that “He” was actually out and working. While it wasn’t his first nor his biggest sin Sama’el was guilty of Acadia. With the ongoing skirmishes and wars that span the past decade or so there was no need for "Death" to lift a hand. No, fools would rush to the concept in the masses during those times as if lining up for a new attraction at the hottest theme park. But like a roller coasters there are ups and downs and from Sama’el’s perspective this was a nosedive. Peace, an uneasy peace but peace none the less spread across the realms. Death was no longer happening in mass numbers falling short of the status quo that had been so comfortable met for so long; requiring Sama’el, "Death’s Ambassador," to resume working once again manipulating and pulling the strings of others…

 

The culprit behind the calls emerges from the mountain of bodies, bathed it there blood, soaked to the core. Laughing like a maniac Monk walks off with an “I don’t give a crap attitude” like a madman does when taking enjoyment in their heinous actions; they somehow know its wrong but its part of what gives them satisfaction in the first place so reasoning is futile.

 

“It has been a while since I’ve revealed myself to the living but now appears to be the time,” Sama’el thinks to himself. Emerging like a mirage in the distance he appears walking out of the ground. He was close enough to be seen but not close enough to be clearly made out, playing off Monk’s insanity. And just as he appeared he disappeared sinking back into the sands of Hueco Mundo. No matter which way Monk turned Sama’el repeated this a few times, each time appearing closer and closer. Attempting to cause his target to further question his sanity, until he disappeared completely.

 

Usually Sama’el had no need for such theatrics but such gestures could go along way when approaching a madman. The dramatics were never meant to scare Monk but simply force him to further question his reasoning, his stability. 

 

Waiting just long enough to be dismissed as an illusion or trick of the mind, the mysterious figure calls out. “My how the might have fallen. Or are you just now opening your eyes to reveal your true nature?” The hooded figured rises from the ground only a few yards away awaiting his reception. His cloak was so black that it appeared to be absorbing the very light that struck it casing it to look even darker. Large spike like protrusions covered his shoulders and head, forcing most to cringe at his sight alone . “Like a cultist at a sacrifice you have caught my attention…” 

 

Sama’el was within striking distance and like any madman the culprit might lash out, especially at such a nightmarishly looking individual. But such were not concerns for Sama’el, as he would remain in his intangible form, further playing into Monk’s insanity. This first encounter was meant solely to be a conversation, not a fight. 

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Maskmonk    331

Monk had little knowledge of his next location, his next goal, but an itching in the back of his mind told him traitors and savages would need to be devoured and executed just like before and again after that and again and again. Even if the cycle became endless wasn't that for the best with everything dead there would be no need for slaughter and his death would never occurs.

Monk picked a direction which his instincts agreed with an walk. The blood on his cloths and pressing against his body beginning to feel natural, his zanpakuto resting in his grip was now second nature almost to never let it go and never let it out of reach. The arrancar was not far behind him. He could feel him getting closer, he wanted to torment him again. Flaunt his strength over Monk. But Monk was determined to make a hasty retreat before the arrancar could appear once again. But to Monk displeasure the figure appears in the distance, but sinks into the ground a moment later and appears a short time after. Displeased with the theatrics, Monk turns, ignoring his instincts and walking in the other direction. But even as Monk turns the figure appears out of the ground once more drawing closer. 

Once again Monk turns, only to have to firm hands press down on his shoulders. 'Hold your ground, our strength may be required' the arrancar whispers in his ear. Although to the mysterious figure approaching Monk, the insane arrancar is only talking to himself. Evoking a fake confidence of companionship, but an honest threat of strength. Monk now holds his ground, confused, but not unfazed by the disappearance of this unknown figure. In fact it greatly adgitated him, Monk felt mocked. But then the figure disappeared completely. 

After a moment time, Monk returned to his travels. Believeing his vision to be no more than one of his haunting dreams, but this time, his fear had not got the best of him and had remained vigilant. That was until an unfamiliar voice echoes out the ground, only taunting him more with its questioning and remark. The figure now making its final appearance a few yards away, tempting Monk to end this conversation in an instant. But he felt like humouring the creature before he condemned it to its untimely and agonising death. "You do not know of my might, but this has always been my nature, revealed or not." Monk disliked the figures tone. It's as if he knew him, but Monk didn't recognise him so was lead to believe the figure knew very little about him. But it seemed at least that he had been watched as the figure seemed to take great interest in the 'sacrifice' behind Monk. 

"Then you should walk away, unless you wish to be added to the pile. That 'sacrifice' is not for you, nor for anyone. It's an extemanation of those I determine to be my enemy" Monk said, taking great pleasure to demean the figure. Approach him as if he where a God and the sacrifice was his to claim. 'What a fool he must be' , 'perhaps we should add him to the pile' a voice whisper in his head and Monks grip around his zanpakuto tighten and shook with anticipation and excitement at the thought of killing this arrogant figure in front of him.

Edited by Maskmonk
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“Even after so much Death your hands still thirst for more blood. Marvelous! Simply splendid,” says Sama’el in a dark an eerie voice. He was more than satisfied with the overwhelming killing intent oozing from his very core. “But… how can you speak of enemies and might when your victims are only fodder, most of which are not worthy of your time? Or are you taking a liking to the Shinigami’s will? You have fallen further than I thought. But fear not I will guide you.” Sama’el was tempting to bait the mad Hollow with hearsay and stories using the Shinigami as the bait.

 

With his scythe in his right hand Sama’el once again closes the distance between them while simultaneously sinking in to the sands, as if the earth was swallowing him whole. “How can you kill what is not actually there? Better yet how can you kill what you don’t know is real or a figment of your imagination You speak of which you do not know,” he says playing with Monk’s broken and tormented mind. His words and tricks were always to manipulate his targets actions once he revealed himself and now wasn’t any different. Speaking in riddles and questions was only part of the schemes.

 

Like the in-laws that would never leave, Sama’el appeared once again. “But I did not come here to fight nor test your might. Monk… I’ve been called many things by the living but only a few know me as Sama’el. And I offer information, enlightenment if you will, only then will your true enemy will be known. News that I think you would like to know so you could better direct your fury,” he states cold and calculating. If one could see his eyes through his mask they would see the harsh gaze that only a True Demon could grace you with. He hoped his interest would be peaked and the bait taken as it would be much easier for his story to be accepted. Either way he would tell it and improvise. 

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Maskmonk    331

You creature in front of Monk only seemed to be excited by the fact Monk was shaking with the anticipation to kill him, it was as if he though he couldn't die. But before Monk swung his zanpakuto the creature stopped him. 'Not worthy'   'Liking to shinigami?'    'A guide?' Monk hesitated. He agreed, but also disagreed. Yes most of the ones he had deemed to be his enemies so far hadn't been nothing but slaughter, easy prey. But he wasn't killing them for shinigamis sake. He'd long past such desires. To kill hollows for the sake of ridding their greed from the world no longer made sense. As the world was filled with nothing but it. "My enemies are who I depict. Shinigamis all the same. I am not some sort of..... DOG." Monk threatened to swing in an attempt to intimidate the creature. 'But if he's willing to guide us' a voice whisper from behind him. "Shut up!" Monk turns on his feet swing behind him. "I make my own decisions! Not you!" Monk shouts at thin air, then a moment later turns back to the creature his temper lowered by this sudden outburst. 

However the creature on mocks him, questioning Monks sanity. Something he though he had a firm grip upon. He was all to aware that this thing in front of him was real, fading into the ground or not and that arrancar which followed him like a shadow. He could only be real, couldn't he? 'No!' Monks mind argues. "Enough of your riddles you.... phantom. If you wish to judge my killing then so be it. And you question my sanity, on what terms? My mind is my own. I kill who I please and if you wish to 'guide me' then I may assist you in your endeavour" Monk did not take well to being talked down to and attempts to portray the creature as weak and in need of Monks help. 

Monk was now becoming bored of this same parlour trick. To hide ones self was not a god given ability, simply a tricksters tool. Monk wanted to turn his back on the creature in disrespect. But was intrigued as the creature tries to make himself less of a tormentor and more of an ally with information on a arch enemy. "Then enough of your word play" Monk turns on his weak, marching at a quick pass wanting the creature to follow. "If you know of an old enemy or a new enemy I do not care all are the same and stand in my way and all will pass away before me. Share your information. I will rid the world of it and perhaps you can leave me in peace to find my own enemies" Monk displiked the creature, but he showed no hostility and appeared to have information. Information that made Monks heart quicken with anticipation of hearing it.  

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Sama’el spoke his mind, and for better or worse it was something he never hesitated to do. Monk carefully listens, scrutinizing a few keywords as he decides how to react to them. Although Monk’s face was also covered with a mask, the atmosphere around him spoke as though he both agreed and disagreed. Until he finally answered with a tone that clearly stated his distaste.

 

Sama’el was obviously striking a nerve but it was every bit of his intention to do so. Every move, every word was calculated and adjusted to, to reach a desired outcome. His objective now was simple. Enrage the “Weapon of Mass Destruction,” by showing him the cause of that anger, whether it’s the true culprit or the one Sama’el pins the blame on. And then guiding him on a path that will allow him to release his fury on those less fortunate.

 

After Monk states that he is no Shinigami dog, he then grips his Zanpakuto tighter preparing to strike. “Ah, so you will strike me down,” Sama’el thinks to himself but is unable to get out a word before Monk attacks. But instead of attacking Sama’el, Monk strikes at the air behind him, talking to the wind as if someone was actually whispering in his ear.

 

Witnessing the spectacle a wry smile creeps up on Sama’el’s face although it remains hidden from view. “In that condition its been quite sometime since you’ve made your own decisions,” he thinks to himself choosing to remain silent. After Monk regains his composure things proceed without violence, for now…

 

“Haha, assist me then you shall, for you will gain much more than me, ‘Freedom’,” Sama’el says in a pleased tone. He didn’t care what reason Monk use to satisfy his conscience as long as his "will" was done and his "agenda" achieved.

 

Monk proceeds to walk at a slow pace and continues to speak with the mysterious hooded figure, signaling for him to follow. With a few sentences he essentially demands Sama’el to state what he knows so that he can be done with him. Sama’el’s mood lightens even further as the Arrancar seems to be eager to hear the information after all. So without hesitation he follows on Monk’s left side

 

“The sole reason for your current predicament is none other than the Shinigami. From the beginning they have been manipulating events so that you would end up here, like this, broken both physically and mentally. Not a mere dog but a Lone Wolf carrying out their biddings,” he says drifting from Monk’s left side and appearing on his right, very ghost like. This wasn’t done this time for theatrics, merely to give Monk enough time to dwell on those words before he continued on; but not enough time to respond. “I know you find my words difficult but think about who prospers most from your minor purges of useless Hollows? However much fun it is you cannot deny the fact that with each death you make, the Shinigami’s job easier and safer,” he says rhetorically. “Surely you would rather kill much worthier targets and while you’re at it get revenge on those that got you to this point. Above all others there is one who holds most of the blame. One calling the shots behind the scenes…”

 

Sama’el stopped there hoping that Monk wasn’t doubting him up until this point. He gave no reason to as his tone was informative and his story not too farfetched. Sama’el further tired to entice Monk with a name but would not reveal it yet in order to peak his curiosity. There was only one Shinigami’s name though, which Sama’el knew and he would be the victim of this conspiracy, having sliced his arm off in a pervious encounter it was befitting.

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Maskmonk    331

The figure follows Monk just as he expected it would. It was just as interested in what he had to offer as much as Monk was interested in it. It stated that Monk would gain freedom as if he were some sort of prisoner. HIM! A prisoner. Every word that came out the creatures mouth seemed mocking, taunting. Almost cruel. 

 

But that is not all. The creature delves deeper it to what it has to say. Claiming one shinigami is behind all of it. 'A single shinigami?' Monk thought to himself. But greatly doubted it. He was not so weak as to be controlled. Not again anyway. The figure continued. But Monk replied the second time. "I am far from broken. Far from it physically and should you mention my sanity again. It shall be the last time you ever do." Monk threatened and again at the end. Shinigami dog. The very wording, the very idea. Monks upper lip twitched. Itching for something to kill. And either it was very soon going to be the figure walking, no floating? Beside him or this shinigami that it spoke of. Yet on and on the figure goes. Making sense, but very little which interests Monk. He did NOT make the shinigamis life easier. He was NOT helping them. Then as the creature is finally about to reveal the name Monk was craving at this point. The creature pauses. 

 

Monk snaps. A voice echos in his head and across the vast desert. "KILL HIM" Monk raises his zanpakuto and brings it crashing towards the figure. "Tell me figure are you worthy to be killed, you act high and mightily and now I've had my fill. Enough. Give me my name, the name and yours so I may take it to oblivion once I'm finished. My work is far from over I'll kill anyone and anything and anything and anything that gets in my way and YOU are slowing me down. Get out my way or become an obstacle that I must remove." Monk raises the blade and slams it into the ground around him. Lifting up the sand as he slams it down. "Don't stop." A voice whispers in his head and the feeling of pleasure as these introductions are given to him are to much. Monk swings his blade in movement so unpredictable. No rhyme or reason. Some swings so violent his arms feel as though they will break under the pressure of his own force. Fighting his imagination. Monk hoping the creature is among all the dead bodies he thinks he sees. Monk drops the blade and.... breaths. "The name or your life." Monk laughs looking over his shoulder at the figure. A grin so fowl hidden under his mask. 

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The two creatures continued to stroll the deserts of Hueco Mundo, each a devil in their own right. Though it wasn’t always that way, once upon a time one of them could have been called a hero or rescuer but that time has long pasted; traded in for this psychotic Arrancar.

 

Sama’el continued to poke at Monk, pushing his buttons fueling his anger and desire to kill. Although it remained hidden, Sama’el couldn’t help but grin wryly as Monk threaten that his sanity should never be questioned again. To literally threaten a “Demon” to his face could only mean one’s higher thinking was sadly failing them, right? Either that or they blatantly didn’t give a crap, which only made Monk an even better choice in Sama’el’s eyes.

 

The lies continued to pour from Sama’el’s mouth until he stopped just before revealing a name. It would seem Monk was diligently following along becoming more and more enticed by the story as the sudden silence and lack of a name was too much to bare as it sends him into a rage.  “YES TAKE MY LIFE AND EMBRACE YOUR NEW PATH WITH EYES WIDE OPEN,” screams Sama’el, as Monks enters a momentary berserk like state.

 

The ferocity behind the attacks immediately displaces an enormous amount of sand, masking the entire surroundings. The cloud of sand was so thick that if a human inhaled one breath of it they would suffocate almost instantly . With such power the large cloud of debris rapidly increased in size until finally Monk’s fury subsides and he halts his attack…

 

An evil laugh breaks the ominous silence, in a pitch so evil that it could only come from a prisoner, no, resident of hell. Simultaneously a powerful gust of wind sweeps across the area causing the occurrence, or coincidence to feel all the more supernatural. Only one demon remained standing with his Zanpakuto dripping in blood, while the laughter emanated from the devil, lying on the ground, soaking in his own pool of blood; bisected cleanly in two separate pieces.

 

As the laughter vanishes and the dirt settles the same voice cries out with blood oozing from his mask and body. “Marvelous you are simply marvelous. What a masterpiece you will create. I hope this helps prove that I’m not a mere apparition nor simply a concoction from your mind.” The voice spoke with no concern of his own emanate death, which Monk saw too, though it was all within expectations.

 

How long has it been since Sama’el had felt the unique euphoria of death, intentionally or not. Warm blood that quickly seeps from one’s body, giving way to a cold that steadily creeps in; like a long winter hunkering down for the next eternity. It was a feeling that no matter how many times one felt you could never truly get use too.

 

“Once again my name is Sama’el. Burn it into the back of your mind, along with another, for you will be seeing me again; as for the Shinigami’s name you seek it is Yoshirou Kyoraku! I will go and set the way for you, until then KILL TO YOUR HEARTS CONTENT.” replies Sama’el as his consciousness slips away into darkness. 

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Maskmonk    331

As Monk blade connects the with demon, he hear it particularly begging for death as if it was what It wanted. But Monk was happy with the end result as he felt the splatter of blood hit the sand, staining it red and a thump beside him. Once the sand clears even Monk is surprised by his own feat. The demon lay near by. Cleaved in two and a dark sinister grin appears on Monks face as everything becomes clear. "So you finally know who I am" the mysterious arrancar says placing a hand on Monks blood drenched zanpakuto.

 

Monk did not answer. It would have been foolish. To answer himself. He'd lost that kill instinct. Why wasn't that clear, had he pulled it in all those years ago in order to not hurt the ones he called allies. Monk shakes with excitement, power, blood lust. What a fool he'd been. He'd held himself back for too long, had he remained under his own ruling he could be even greater than what he was now. It was very much like the demon was saying. Monk was becoming a  masterpiece. 

 

Monk cackled a moment along with the demon. "Perhaps I should thank you. You have been the final piece of the puzzle. Yes, yes I WAS a fool. But now." Monk chuckles. "Now....." possibilities run though Monk mind. The eradication of all his enemies. Immortality. All of it well within his grasp. "I'll allow you to live your final moment in piece. At least I have the confidence I won't be seeing you again" Monk says turning his back on the demon, who was now choking on his own blood. Music, to Monks ears.

 

As Monk walked. He received what he was after. Along with something he would prefer not to come true. The demons name was Sama'el and apparently he would see him again. But Monk doubted it in that state and the name of the shinigami. Yoshirou Kyoraku. A name of a fitting opponent. Monk thought, now blocking out the random drivel of a demon. Spouting on about how he would cast the way. No monk knew how to get the attention of shinigami. 

 

Monk reaches into thin air and tears it in to. Pulling a garaganta into existence. The human world. Yes Monk would most certainly kill to his hearts content. What better way to store up some spiritual pressure. After all humans are such easy pray. Monk walks into the open mouth of the garaganta dragging his bloodied zanpakuto behind him. Leaving a bloodied trail behind him.

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