Chapter 102: Dragon Vs Nnoitra
In the desolate outer regions , Szayelaporro Granz raced across the alabaster dunes at breakneck speed, his pink hair whipping behind him like a banner in the artificial wind of Hueco Mundo. The power he had absorbed from Pesche coursed through his veins like liquid fire, granting him renewed vitality and purpose after his recent resurrection.
"Fascinating... truly fascinating," he muttered to himself as he navigated the endless expanse of white sand, his golden eyes gleaming with scientific curiosity. "According to all my research data on him, he evolved into a Vasto Lorde with virtually no visible transformation period. Such a phenomenon should be impossible under normal circumstances."
His analytical mind raced as he considered the implications of what he had observed over the years. "And more intriguingly, after Aizen-sama arrived in Hueco Mundo, he was the very first Arrancar to pledge allegiance. He achieved his current form entirely through his own power, without any assistance from the Hōgyoku's influence..."
The rapidly moving scientist was consumed with questions that had plagued him for decades. As one of the earliest members to join Aizen's Arrancar forces, Szayelaporro had witnessed countless transformations and evolutions within their ranks. Yet that enigmatic man—Fiander Moros—remained an impenetrable mystery that called to every instinct he possessed as a researcher.
For scientists like himself, the unknown represented the ultimate prize, the most tantalizing treasure that could possibly exist. This fundamental truth drove Szayelaporro's every action, though Fiander's overwhelming strength had always forced him to maintain a respectful distance.
But circumstances had finally aligned in his favor. Fiander lay gravely wounded and unable to maintain his usual terrifying presence, recuperating alone in his private domain. More importantly, Reinhard—the loyal guardian who typically stood watch over his master—had departed for Las Noches approximately thirty minutes earlier.
With the newfound power flowing through his reconstructed form courtesy of Pesche's absorbed essence, Szayelaporro could no longer resist the irresistible pull of discovery. He intended to claim Fiander's soul for himself, to finally unravel every secret that had tormented his curiosity for so long.
Most outsiders possessed only a surface-level understanding of Szayelaporro's true nature, dismissing him as mediocre and assuming his Espada status was merely the result of Aizen finding his abilities useful. Such ignorance was both insulting and convenient—it allowed him to operate without drawing unwanted attention to his real capabilities.
The truth was far more complex. As an Arrancar who had once achieved Vasto Lorde status through his own evolution, raw power was no longer his primary obsession. He sought something far more valuable and elusive—knowledge, understanding, the ability to transcend the limitations that bound lesser beings.
In pursuit of this higher calling, he had willingly sacrificed portions of his own soul for research purposes, accepting the degradation from Vasto Lorde to Adjuchas level as an acceptable price for his experiments. Such dedication to scientific advancement was beyond the comprehension of most Hollows, who remained slaves to their basic hunger and territorial instincts.
The opportunity to reclaim his former strength had presented itself when Fiander eliminated Aaroniero Arruruerie. Szayelaporro had seized upon that moment, using the remnants of the fallen Arrancar's body to create a clone of himself, incorporating half of his fragmented soul into the new vessel.
While gaining access to Aaroniero Arruruerie's inherent devouring abilities, he had systematically hunted other Hollows throughout Hueco Mundo, absorbing their power and gradually reconstructing his spiritual pressure. Years of patient work in the shadows had finally borne fruit—his current reiatsu rivaled that of the strongest Espada in Aizen's forces.
However, stolen power required time and effort to properly integrate. The various spiritual energies he had consumed over the decades needed to be carefully digested and unified, or risk being torn apart by their chaotic and conflicting natures. As one's strength expanded, so too did one's ambitions and desires—a lesson Szayelaporro understood all too well.
Meanwhile, the massive black dragon formed by the fusion of Pesche and Dondochakka's souls soared through the pale moonlight, its obsidian scales reflecting the ghostly illumination of Hueco Mundo's eternal night. Below, Nnoitra Gilga waited with predatory anticipation, his multiple arms already grasping the handles of his distinctive crescent-shaped scythes.
When their eyes met across the distance, an inexplicable current of recognition passed between them. Nnoitra felt his very soul tremble under the weight of an oppressive presence that spoke of evolutionary superiority—the unmistakable aura of a higher form of existence looking down upon a lesser being.
"Damn it all! What kind of sick joke is this?" Nnoitra snarled, his lone visible eye burning with frustrated rage as he hovered in mid-air. "You were nothing but a couple of worthless insects before!"
His four arms stretched backward in a threatening display, each limb grasping one of his massive scythe blades in preparation for combat. The weapons gleamed with malevolent energy, their curved edges promising swift and brutal death to any who dared challenge their wielder.
"Tenjō Kenten—Ripping Scythe!" Nnoitra roared, launching himself forward with savage intensity.
The giant scythes began to glow with sickly yellow light as they crossed and danced through the air toward the hovering dragon, each blade leaving trails of destructive energy in its wake. The sheer violence of the assault spoke to Nnoitra's fundamental nature—he was a creature of pure, unrestrained brutality who found meaning only through conflict and domination.
The black dragon observed Nnoitra's vertical approach with eyes that held no trace of emotion or fear. Ancient intelligence gleamed within those reptilian orbs, the accumulated wisdom of two souls merged into something greater than the sum of their parts. A trace of flame flickered between its massive jaws as it prepared to respond to the Quinta Espada's challenge.
Suddenly, the dragon's maw gaped wide, revealing rows of obsidian teeth that gleamed like polished volcanic glass. From the depths of its throat emerged a torrent of midnight-black dragon's breath, the concentrated spiritual energy taking the form of corrosive flames that devoured light itself.
"Yaaaahhh!" Nnoitra bellowed, choosing to advance directly into the incoming attack rather than attempt evasive maneuvers.
His crossed scythes moved with incredible speed, deflecting and parrying the dragon's breath even as the dark flames threatened to consume everything in their path. The collision between weapon and elemental fury sent shockwaves through the surrounding air, causing the desert sand below to ripple like water.
After successfully blocking the initial assault, Nnoitra raised all four of his remaining scythes simultaneously, their blades aligned in perfect formation as he channeled his strength into a single devastating counter-attack. With a roar of triumph, he cleaved through the dragon's breath entirely, splitting the dark flames in two and dispersing them harmlessly into the night.
"Ha! The breath of an insect is still just an insect's attack!" he taunted, his scarred face twisted into a mask of cruel satisfaction. "Is that really the best you can manage?"
Even now, Nnoitra continued to underestimate his opponent, his pride blinding him to the vast gulf in spiritual pressure that had developed between them. The fusion had elevated Pesche and Dondochakka far beyond their previous limitations, transforming them into something that transcended normal Arrancar classifications.
The black dragon's eyes flashed with unmistakable anger at Nnoitra's dismissive words. When it spoke, its voice carried the resonant power of an ancient being awakening to its true potential, each syllable reverberating through the spiritual realm like the tolling of a funeral bell.
"Kotodama—Jun'en!" the dragon intoned with terrible finality.
Clusters of white-hot flames erupted from the creature's maw like falling stars, each one burning with temperatures that defied comprehension. The very air began to distort and warp under the incredible heat as massive pillars of fire descended toward Nnoitra's position with inexorable purpose.
"What the hell is this?!" Nnoitra screamed, his bravado evaporating as he witnessed the approaching inferno.
The atmosphere above him had become a shimmering curtain of superheated gases, while below, the ultimate flames of Jun'en crashed down with the force of a meteorite impact. The scale of destruction was beyond anything a normal Arrancar should have been capable of producing.
BOOM! BOOM!
The explosions that followed were felt for miles in every direction, their shockwaves rattling the ancient structures of nearby ruins. Even Ishida and Chad, positioned hundreds of meters away from the battle site, felt waves of terrifying heat wash over them like the breath of some primordial furnace.
"This level of power... it's beyond what any Arrancar should possess," Ishida observed with growing concern, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to maintain his composure in the face of such overwhelming force.
Before anyone could fully process the implications of what they had witnessed, the black dragon spread its wings and began circling the explosion site like a vulture. Drawing upon its reserves of spiritual energy, it unleashed another torrent of breath toward the center of the conflagration, adding fuel to an already devastating fire.
The dragon's flames carried the acrid scent of sulfur and brimstone, and when they mixed with the superheated air left behind by Jun'en, they triggered a secondary series of explosions that dwarfed even the initial attack.
BOOOOOOM—!!
As the thunderous detonation echoed across the desert, the dragon flapped its wings with tremendous force, creating hurricane-level winds that swept away the smoke and debris to reveal the aftermath of its assault.
There, standing in the center of a crater that had been carved deep into the desert floor, was Nnoitra's battered form. His six arms had been reduced to merely two, which he had crossed protectively over his torso in a desperate attempt to shield his vital organs. The remaining four limbs bore terrible burn wounds, their flesh charred and blackened beyond recognition.
Of his four distinctive crescent scythes, only one remained intact—the others had been destroyed completely in the holocaust of flame and force. His body was a patchwork of burns and lacerations, with not a single inch of healthy skin visible anywhere on his frame. Most grotesquely, one of his eyes had been completely destroyed, leaving only a gaping socket that wept blood down his ruined cheek.
"Even after an attack of that magnitude, he's still breathing?" Ishida muttered in disbelief, his analytical mind struggling to accept what he was seeing.
"Earlier, Dondochakka exhausted all of his remaining strength in a similar assault, but even that wasn't enough to finish him off," Chad observed grimly. "These Espada truly are monsters among monsters."
From the depths of the crater came the sound of labored breathing, followed by something far more disturbing—laughter. Mad, unhinged laughter that spoke of a mind pushed beyond the breaking point of sanity.
"Hah... hah... I'm the strongest!" Nnoitra cried out, his remaining eye blazing with deranged triumph. "No matter what you throw at me, you can't kill me! I AM INVINCIBLE!"
As he spoke, something extraordinary began to happen. The bleeding wounds that covered his body suddenly stopped flowing, and his scarred skin began to peel away in large sheets, revealing fresh, unmarked flesh beneath. It was like watching a praying mantis shed its exoskeleton, a complete biological renewal that defied all logical explanation.
Within moments, every injury except for his missing arms had been completely healed, leaving Nnoitra looking as though he had never been harmed at all. His regenerative abilities had transcended normal Hollow healing, reaching levels that bordered on true resurrection.
"Come on then!" he roared, his face split by a maniacal grin as he hefted his remaining scythe. "Let's see what else you've got!"
Without hesitation, he launched himself toward the dragon once more, his weapon cutting through the air in a vicious arc that found its target. The crescent blade bit deep into the dragon's chest, opening a gaping wound that stretched nearly a full meter across the creature's torso and releasing torrents of dark blood.
"ROOOOOAAARRR!!"
The dragon's anguished bellow shook the very foundations of Hueco Mundo as pain unlike anything it had ever experienced coursed through its fused consciousness. Despite all its power, despite the successful fusion of two souls into something greater, it had still underestimated the sheer tenacity and regenerative capabilities of an Espada who refused to accept defeat.
The battle was far from over.
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