BONUS CHAPTER: I had time and felt like writing a new chapter, so here you go.
*Damien Pov*
I didn't tell Ikkaku about what happened an hour ago with the Hollow, I don't even wanna think about it.
I'm never transforming into a Hollow again, I refuse it entirely. Anyways, me and Ikkaku ate eating ready to head out, Ikkaku stole a carriage from somewhere, so we don't have to walk.
We reach the true Plaine as we exit the small outcropping of trees that housed my old cave abode. It's a wondrous sight, the Emberlyn Plaines.
The beautiful plain stretches as far as the eye can see, adorned with a tapestry of vibrant wildflowers swaying in the gentle breeze. The golden rays of the sun illuminate the lush, green grass that carpets the vast expanse, creating a picturesque landscape. Majestic mountains stand tall in the distance, adding a sense of grandeur to the scene. A crystal-clear river meanders through the plain, reflecting the azure sky and inviting wildlife to quench their thirst.
It's hard to believe this is the bloodiest place in Cyron, it's so pretty. If there wasn't a constant war, I'd love to stay here and rest beneath the sky.
"It's pretty, ain't it boss?"
"Yeah....yeah it is. It's beautiful."
I can't help but smile, while I lay on the pile of hay, Ikkaku is steering the carriage. Not sure how he knows what to do, I don't recall Soul Society having carriage.
The carriage is pulled by a pretty creature, the creature used to pull carriages known as the "glimmer-hoof." Standing tall and elegant, Glimmerhoofs resemble a cross between a unicorn and a deer. Their majestic bodies are adorned with shimmering, iridescent scales that change color with every movement, creating a mesmerizing spectacle. Their long, graceful horns curve gracefully upward, emitting a soft, enchanting glow.
These magical creatures can effortlessly glide through forests, over hills, and across rivers, making them the perfect choice for transporting passengers, and they are relatively common creatures so they aren't expensive.
I know about this from some books left behind by the people I had killed. It wasn't a lot, but helpful nonetheless.
It's so nice out today, and the hay is so comfortable, I can't help but rest my eyes. Later, I silently drift off to sleep, though I don't need it.
...
"You're weak."
Huh? Who's that, hello?
"It's pathetic, to be protected by your subordinate. You. Are. Weak."
Who are you? Where am I?
"Hehehe, if you can find your way out, perhaps you'll catch a glimpse of me"
Hey, HEY! What's going on?
I'm in an endless expanse of darkness, there is an eerie void that stretches infinitely in all directions. Not a single glimmer of light penetrates this vast, impenetrable obscurity. The darkness is so profound that it engulfs everything, leaving no trace of space or time. It's as if I'm floating in an eternal, pitch-black abyss, unable to discern any boundaries or landmarks.
As I venture further into this boundless dark, an overwhelming sense of solitude and isolation creeps in. The absence of any visual cues or sounds heightens the feeling of being lost in an unfathomable void. Time seems to lose its meaning, and the unending darkness surrounds me with a sense of eternal stillness.
...
How long have I been walking? An instant? A day? A Year? A millennium?
...
What am I even looking for? I don't remember.
...
Who am I? Where am I? What was I trying to do? What am I searching for?
...
I don't wanna walk anymore, I'm tired, I wanna stop. Why, why am I still walking? What am I searching for?
...
I don't remember anything anymore, I just know I have to keep walking or something bad will happen. So I'll keep walking.
And Walking
And Walking
And...Walking
...
Ah, Is that light? I can see it! I can see light! I rush forward with wild abandon, begging that light to never fade away, then I see it.
In this dreary and blank world, a desolate landscape stretches as far as the eye can see. The sky is perpetually overcast, casting a somber, gray hue over the lifeless terrain. There are no vibrant colors to be found, only varying shades of muted and faded tones that add to the pervasive sense of gloom.
The ground is covered in a monotonous layer of dust and ash, devoid of any vegetation or signs of life. Trees, if they ever existed, now stand as hollow, leafless husks, reaching out like ghostly silhouettes against the lifeless backdrop. The air feels heavy and suffocating, carrying with it a sense of emptiness and despair.
There are no sounds of laughter or joy in this world, only a haunting silence that weighs on the soul. The absence of any life forms or creatures leaves the landscape feeling devoid of purpose or meaning. It's a world frozen in time, where nothing seems to change or evolve.
In every direction, the scenery remains unchanged - a blank canvas of desolation that offers no hope of escape or improvement. The overall atmosphere is one of emptiness and melancholy, leaving those who dare to explore it feeling a profound sense of sadness and yearning for something more.
Is this...my inner world? How, how can it be like this? Why? What the hell is going on?
"Well, you finally reached me, master."
I whirl around to see a man, the man stands with a confident posture, displaying an air of self-assuredness. He has a well-groomed appearance, and his neatly styled hair complements his overall demeanor. His eyes are bright and attentive, revealing a mix of intelligence and warmth.
A strong jawline and a neatly trimmed beard add to his mature and distinguished look. His facial features are symmetrical and defined, giving him a striking presence. A few subtle lines around his eyes hint at a life well-lived, adding a touch of wisdom to his countenance.
"Your...Tyrant aren't you?"
"Of course, but you wouldn't know much about that, would you? You got my name somehow, but never gained my recognition, never did you communicate with me at all."
"I couldn't! I tried, but you never let me hear you!"
"A fool you are, master. Did you ever stop and think, why is my Zampakuto not answering? It's because you're weak, and I didn't and do not recognize you. I am Tyrant, and I have no weak master."
The next moment, he wields the base Tyrant in his hand, and attacks me, and all I can do is barely react and block.
*3rd Pov*
In this dreary and desolate land, the clash of steel echoes through the air as Tyrant faces off against Damien in a fierce sword fight. Tyrant brandishes his katana with masterful ease, displaying a lifetime of training and experience.
Damien, on the other hand, is a young and inexperienced fighter, who has never truly met an opponent on his level, and is wielding a sword with trembling hands. His movements are hesitant and unsteady, revealing the vast difference in skill between the two combatants, despite the above average Swordsmanship Damien possesses.
With each swing of his sword, Tyrant demonstrates his prowess, easily parrying Damien's feeble attempts to strike back. The young man's frustration and fear are evident, while Tyrant's face remains cold and impassive, showing no mercy.
Tyrant's strikes are precise and calculated, aimed with deadly accuracy toward Damien's defenses. He moves with an elegant and fluid grace, dancing around his opponent with apparent effortlessness. Damien, in contrast, struggles to keep up, finding himself constantly on the defensive, barely avoiding the fatal blows.
As the duel intensifies, Tyrant's confidence grows, and he starts to toy with Damien, purposely leaving openings for the young man to exploit. But no matter how hard Damien tries, he cannot penetrate Tyrant's impregnable defense.
The mismatch in skill becomes more evident as Tyrant begins disarming Damien with ease, knocking his sword out of his grasp time and again. With each disarmament, the young man's confidence wanes, and a sense of hopelessness envelops him.
Finally, as the duel nears its end, Tyrant delivers a swift and precise strike, knocking Damien to the ground. The young man's sword clatters away, and he lies defeated and humiliated before the Tyrant's feet.
Damien becomes keenly aware of his weakness, he was forced to understand by an overwhelming power.
Perhaps he will break, and never fight again, or maybe, just maybe, this will herald a monster.
A monster of the sword.