[BSD-RP] Hueco Mundo

[BSD]

Nodding in understanding as the meeting of beings was starting to come to an end, Aragon would walk away from all of them, each foot step he took he lowered himself back towards the sands. The Rieatsu under his feet visibly taking after black flames as he descended the remnant's of the dome. Of which was melting slowly from the explosion of power before. Thick black gooey, sludge like mass, bubbling down itself until it reached the sands where it fumed to its death and became nothing but putrid smoke. By the time Aragon reached the sand's nothing was left of the old, decrepit Las Noches. It was a process, taking hours to burn away the old castle, It was a massive and impressive feature itself, but it had to go. Meticulouslyhe worked away at the entire visible structure. After it was done, he would walk the massive desert for a while, until he finds a spot in the center of it all. Aragon walks around in circles for a while, looking at the sands, looking into the sky, visualizing the way the old fortress was built. It's many catacombs, chambers, hallways, towers, domes, rooms. So many, he had been through them all, pacing, slowly, waiting for someone to claim the throne. He had it all memorized.
He finally came to a stop, his breathing slowed and his focus was now tunneling on one objective. Then a burst, a soundless wave of force ripping outward from Aragon. Force so overwhelming, natural sound ceased to exist for but a fraction of a moment. A breathless pause only noticed by those most impressively skilled. A moment otherwise skipped over, followed by a sudden rupture of pink energy upon the sands of Hueco Mundo. Aragon's hands drifted, forming and clumping Reiatsu and sand into itself,. Fully exposing his strength now, The sands started to shift, much like Vincent giving life to Mi'ojo; Aragon gave life to a new Las Noches.

This giant pink mass, throbbing and pulsating with Aragon's Reiatsu, soon filled many of its gaps and pockets with egg shaped objects. Spiraling into itself, the mass slowly start to expand. Latching onto the sands and searing it with the same jagged black spikes of obsidian at its base. The growth started to tower the dune and hills beyond Aragon's sight. What once was a fleshy mass started to solidify forming into thick construct like fortifications. Expanding up, the mass gyrated and formed an additional, higher platform upon itself. Here the cancerous looking birth started to crown and form itself into a large castle like structure. It grew at a slow but steady rate, for days Aragon would stand here, focusing on creating what was in his minds eye. The first day, the pink mass was a glob of loose structure, uneven and flimsy. The second day was spent refining the look, the gummy looking meat now pale and flaky almost solid. The third day, was bone breaking, as Aragon spent his all tempering the structures with his heat. The fourth and final day of construction Aragon put his will into the detail of the structures, the elegant work forming from his sheer intent.
The infinitely scaling walls had reached their end. Turning opalescent yet still near perfect white. The refraction of Hueco Mundo's moon high in the sky pierced off the new surface., There Aragon reached out, his arms bulging from the force driving through them. He clenches his fist, his hands pulsating, his burning reiatsu then went into building a new sun. His brow begins to sweat, and his posture is nearly driven into the ground from the amount of sheer power spewing from him. A gasp of breath, and the a final thrust of energy forward and Aragon releases his focus, his arms dropping and hanging loosely at his sides. The result? A glowering orb of violent bright white energy, eclipsed by the massive moon of Hueco Mundo. As if a flash of light, the entirety of Hueco Mundo would swell with the suns beacon. The pitch black sky would be illuminated like natural day light directly over the new Las Noches. Yet if one would wonder too far away from the Castle, The natural darkness would once again overtake them, a permanent sunset of colors, transitioning as the lights reach fades back into night.

From his memories he constructed a new Las Noches. Aragon dropped to the ground, his left leg stretched out, skidding sand as it pushed to relax. His right leg bent, his upper body leaning on his knee, panting slightly. Aragon had been spending his every waking moment since the fall of the Arrancar, dreaming of this palace. Putting it together from his picture perfect memories of the old kingdom was a relief to Aragon. Fixing his glasses and catching his breath, He stood up and wondered off towards a certain area in the white sands before him.
As if marked by scent, he walked directly too it, not needing to look or worry in the slightest. There he found his entrance to his previous lair, The Catacombs of Las Noches. Aragon would reach down and grip the massive dull red latch to the giant white circular door. Flinging it open with ease, Aragon would whistle, a sheer pitch of a noise that could shatter normal ear drums and kill lesser animals. A low grumble from the Catacombs would vibrate the sand from it's resting places before being audibly heard. Aragon would look down and fix his glasses once more, The new artificial sun casting a bright gleam against them, hiding his emotion. His facade was finally over, He could do as he once did, once again. The smile from before was still on his face. Aragon would speak to himself in relaxed tone. " I have been waiting for your return for so long, It's almost too good to be true. I present to you, my wonderful pets, your new home, Guard it, Watch it, Tell me what secrets you see and hear. Bring any intruders back to me I will be in the New Catacombs. "

The orbs of black hollow flesh, fixated with Arrancar Technology, flew out of the old Catacombs. So many it was almost impossible to count; What were these odd, disgusting, mutated hollows? Aragon prowled the wastes for hundreds of years, encountering worthless hollow after worthless hollow. His solution? Bring them to the Catacombs, Fix them. There the Wrath of the Espada tortured and twisted hollows into his own cybernetic pets. He calls them
Boca, or Mouth. The Boca are linked into a central mainframe, not connected to Las Noches' mainframe, but a secondary one. That only Aragon has immediate access too. Their a large hollow brain with heavy modification sits in a chamber surrounded by Aragon's toys. He calls it Cerebro Hueco, Or Hueco Mundo's Brain.

Aragon silently walks through the new massive gates of Las Noches, taking his time to admire the new work. The structure has a large gate house like entry way, an ideal spot for their lowest rank Espada to call their domain. Further into the compound one was greeted with the massive castle itself. Nearly a thousand feet tall, the Tower breaks down into layers and layers of castle. All leading to a massive fortress at the top, Where Vincent's New throne, and the Espada meeting table were now located. The upmost building had a massive view over Hueco Mundo for miles beyond the eyes natural sight. Aragon had not gone to any of these new layers or the Keep of the God King himself, no, this was not his destination. Instead Aragon went below, deep but not forgotten was the old Catacombs of Las Noches. Yes some of them were collapsed and sunken in the sands, but those were lost for everyone, and the catacombs went on for miles. Here Aragon constructs a new security system for Hueco Mundo and Las Noches, One with unprecedented enforcement. The Boca spreading themselves around the desert and the fortress, creating a deep web of information. Not surprisingly soon after, Aragon's computer monitors were lighting up with new alerts. "We can soon begin the extermination ." He spoke, throwing himself into the chair before him, cracking his knuckles as he stretched his arms out. He than began thrumming away at a holographic interface, windows soaring by his eyes as they flicked to each new alert. Here he would be until needed.

 

[BSD]

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The history of Hueco Mundo is spelled out before Mi'ojo's eye. Like a jet, the Vasto Lordo propels itself, in order to enact revenge on anything it could get within its grasp. Anything that could distract it from its previous defeat at the hands of the god-king. How could you blame him? Like many of the beasts of the dunes, they each believed themselves above the rest. Their long history devouring others like them created a false blanket of safety beneath them. It is only until they meet their match that that reality, that blanket of safety, is ripped from beneath them. Heliodoro was a star that had the sky taken out from under him. How could a being that often convened with the moon live when that relationship was suddenly made null. He found himself glued to the ground, reaching for the heights he had at one point enjoyed.
With this in mind, Tiran was the perfect subject for that aggression. Nieve and unsure of his strength, he had attempted to offer up a less important limb in order to escape his aggressor, but he hadn't any clue what he was in for. The impact was thunderous, as his cranium was caught within the grasp of the raging Vasto. One could hear the sound of Hierro cracking under the pressure, an intense torrent of unfathomable heat instantly torches the Arrancars flesh. He is sturdy enough, that this process is slowed, for lack of a better word. The blazing spiritual energy carves across his flesh, blackening his pale skin as muscle is eradicated away. But within this process. Tiran chooses to fight reiatsu with reiatsu. Whatever this pain brought forth out of him was what they eye would see. The very will to continue to survive. Whatever he found, saw to it that a spike in green erupted from his wounds. With blade in hand, he calls out. His voice carries into the distance of the desert.
"Erode and Corrode, Rey Derretidor!"
His body is suddenly overtaken by acidic green, his muscles and mass distort and them take on gargantuan proportions at a rapid rate. It is a somewhat grotesque site. Blood and gore made way to new flesh that is instantly healed. It is true, the nature of a Vasto Lorde is unique. They are inherently stronger than any other class of Hollows innately. But there was something to be said about an Arrancars' ability to release. Their survivability skyrockets, the strength of their Hierro and their speed take to unnamed heights. Even if it was only viable as a distinction, this gives the starving hollow, Mi'ojo an opportunity. Watching from his hiding place beneath the sands, obscured in the haze of acidic ooze and flashing light he takes to the air, just a few feet above. Lacking a Sonido, he scurries out like a small rodent, gathering an immense degree of speed whilst on all fours. He is dangerously swift, his tiny body distorts into a fleeting form, displaying raw speed, dashing through the open-air he attempts a small chomp at Heliodorio's mask. His small mouth widens wide, then snaps shut. It is only a millisecond later that Tirans now-massive fist attempts to drop the Vasto Lorde. from his opposite side. Mi'ojo had timed his assault amidst the chaos, increasing his chances of success monumentally.
Upon success, the small creature would come to a skidding halt, his hands and feet coming down upon the sand, sliding along the dry surface for a few feet before stopping completely. He keeps the bone fragment in his teeth, he refuses to eat it, as the nature of his kind become more clear to him. He recognizing that devouring parts of hollows stunts their evolution. If he could, his masters will be to help in forcing it. Heliodorio would have only a small window to catch wind of the small hollow, and to commit to countering him may very well leave him open to the now released Tiran. Standing his ground, the small creation steadies himself and prepares for the next opportunity to strike. Tiran quickly moves to gain distance, but it seems unlikely he will get far, considering what had only just transpired.

Elsewhere, far far in the distance, the towering castle of Las Noches becomes consumed in a sea of black. Its structure, able to be seen anywhere in Hueco Mundo, is an astonishing sight to behold. Vincent had been idle for much of his time. He had studied those beneath him. Aragon himself had put much pride in testing the elusive Marcos. Out of either pride of frustration, he gave the title of primary up after being seemingly cornered, discovering that fighting the annoyance would be far more trouble than it was worth. A creature like him had to be appealed too. There were too many mysteries and no straight answers to be found. The very flavor of his soul told this story to Vincent. Made it dangerously clear that he could only seldom be reasoned with. A necessary piece in the world to come. Vincent offers him only what he had consistently wanted. Entertainment. Anything the God-King asked would surely come to entertain the Feline fool. Or so Vincent concluded.
Within this time, Nickolas creeps back from whatever hole he had stuffed himself into. In response to a new Hollow who had responded to the large amounts of spiritual energy in the area. A creature akin to a bat, it takes a perch. Vincent does not need to focus much attention on this. Being aware of them is more than enough. It is obvious he offers the creature something along the lines of power. That is what they have to give after all. But not without a price. He deems their interaction as necessary for the path of destruction. Though, from his perch, he offers Nickolas a question of his own.
Nic'. What will you do in the meantime? Will you truly accompany that creature?
An answer was not required. He would not take it personally if the lazy hog chose simply not to answer. Although on two different sides of the spectrum, the lackadaisical Nickolas intentions were equally hard to decipher. Other than wanting to be left alone.
Above, Aragon steps down from the upper dome of Las Noches. From his body, a mass of black escapes, encapsulating the entirety of Las Noches in a few hours. This process is a long and drawn-out affair. Yet Vincent does not take his eyes off the process for a time. He does not pester Aragon with questions. Demanding to find out what he is attempting. He allows the Espada the freedom to work.
It is then, that from deep in the distance, a surge of spiritual pressure awakens within Vincents Pesquisa. What followed was the low pitch of a roar, loud enough to be heard in the night sky of Hueco Mundo. It carries itself across the surface of the moon. This piques the God-Kings ear, as he begins to grow restless just waiting. He stares off in the direction of this disturbance for several minutes. uncertain of how to move forward. He felt like a slave to his thoughts, constantly lost within them. They never seemed to cease. There was much he had yet to understand. His instincts had carried him far, but his memories were still beyond his grasp. He makes up his mind, deciding he would rather act than rest and speaks.
"Aragon. Continue your work. Nicolas. You are free to come with me If you like. That is...if you don't intend on paying your guest a visit. I wish to explore the sands. There is something I have yet to find..."[/b]
He turns away from his subordinates, his small form still carrying with it an uneasy sense of forbode.

"I will return in some time. You all have a role to play. I doubt you need me breathing down your neck. Nothing else comes before the restoration of Las Noches."
"That is all"

He steps away from the castle, wandering off a few dozen meters away from the reconstruction zone. After a few minutes he finds himself far enough away. He bends his knees, gathering force and power. Then releases all of it at once. enormous levels of raw physical stregnth is all that is required to send him soaring. As he propels himself into the sky he becomes lost in the sea of darkness. His single leap carries him an incomprehensible distance away. He traces the position of the newly emerging presence and then a few moments later, his small and heavy body coming cascading down from the skies. Like a comet, he lands only just outside of the creature's domain. The impact causing the ground to shake for miles in all directions as a large mushroom like cloud of dust rises high into the atmosphere. Much of the solid ground around him crumble beneath his weight, causing torrents of sand and dust to first fly high into the air, before spewing from the seems, falling into the newly formed abyss all around him.
He stands up straight, his tail beginning to sway playfully behind his body. Though his arms were crossed over his chest, he took a large inhale, allowing his spiritual pressure to erupt around him.

"OOOOAARRRR!!!"

The desert shutters in response to the Kings Vagido. His released form commands an evolved degree of respect behind even the most simple actions. He was powerful, plain and simple. It is this much that this new creature, stony and obscured in its shadowy domain would come to understand. Behind Vincent, The Castle of Las Noches was being reborn anew. Would this creature be welcomed into the king's forces? Or would it simply be more flesh to be devoured? Would it be able to awaken that part of Vincent he had yet to connect to? That piece that had been missing. Would it cure his restlessness? His confusion? One could not say for sure. Though here he was, deep within the desert. Before the battle to come, he would have to immerse himself in the dunes. Get his hands dirty. Return to the basics.
And so he does. issuing his challenge, or more so responding to this creature's challenge. Whichever was irrelevant. The constant battle for survival continued in Hueco Mundo. Undisturbed by worlds beyond.

 

[BSD]

Between his fingers, Helliodoro finds the skull of the Arrancar who so eagerly poked and prodded at him, who toyed with his existence for the sake of sating his curiosity. The crushing power his grip delivered comes instantaneously, leaving Tiran no time to react and with the frontal half of his skull crushed inward. As this occurs, so too does the infernal heat envelop the body of the Arrancar, skin, flesh and bone being burnt from existence in a mere moment. Yet through all this, the will to carry on would pull the Arrancar through. A surge of Reiryoku flowed through Tiran, which admittedly, was an impressive increase for a previously negligible creature.
”Erode and Corrode, Rey Derretidor!”
These words come from the Arrancar in it’s last moments, his drive to survive seemingly pushing the limits of his life, giving the Arrancar that moment he needed. So this is the reason for the sudden increase in power was it? A resurreccion? Helliodoro’s hand soon peels away from the Arrancar’s head, his fingers unlatching from Tiran’s skull, of his own will the moment those words were spoken. While the increase in power was noticeable, there was still a long way to go before he could push Helliodoro about in such a manner. Continuing on this upward incline, the Arrancar grows equally in size and power, taking on a far more primal appearance to match the internal growth.
Standing his ground, the intolerable heat that radiates from the Vasto Lorde’s body now returns to him as that third layer of skin he wears constantly. Similarly, the Arrancar before him begins exuding a vile liquid, to Helliodoro, it’s nature was unclear and there was no intention in finding out. All the while, the little creature created by Vincent scurried along the sands in an attempt to stay hidden and out of sight. To no avail. The energy that coursed through the small frame of the monster was far too recognizable for Helliodoro to miss.
In a surprising show of speed, the little animal scampers his way toward Helliodoro before launching himself at the Vasto Lorde. Maw agape he aims himself at the mask of the Vasto Lorde. Fitting for the little beast, it’s first instinct was to bite at the closest thing. From one side Helliodoro faces the now overgrown Tiran, from the other, the corpse turned puppet.
A mere fraction of a second before the little jaw of Mi’ojo catches its target, a torrential flood of incinerating stark white Reiryoku fills the surroundings. Blinding, intense and booming, it consumes Tiran and the tiny Hollow. The acidic secretion vanishing instantly under this overwhelming inferno, leaving not a trace. The Hierro of the transformed Arrancar would come under the same treatment, even the new reinforced and strengthened state of this Arrancar’s Hierro would begin to easily succumb to the blaze. The intensity of heat the Arrancar had faced previously was incomparable to what it would feel this time around. As for Mi’ojo, the chances of survival are slimmer still, there is no comparison between the little creature and its origin.
The brilliant combustion ended as abruptly as it started and with it, Helliodoro had shifted back roughly two feet from both Tiran and Mi’ojo. The movement itself far exceeds the pace of his previous motions, seeming to be in a league of its own. There is no distortion, there is no blur, it is instantaneous. Leaving behind the hungry Mi’ojo mid-leap and Tiran before his swing ever came close or his leap had even been thought of, Helliodoro prepared himself. The blaring cacophony of the fiery Reiryoku only briefly masking the distinct sound of cracking bone.
With the flash fading almost immediately, Helliodoro is revealed, breaching past the purple ombre mane of his, six identical boney tendrils have bent and angled themselves out around Helliodoro, trained on Mi’ojo’s position during his on-going leap. These being culprits of the gnarly crunching. However, these limbs are not alone in their appearance, surging and condensing, at the tip of each of these limbs are pale orbs of energy. Miniature stars.
And then the stars collapse without delay, shooting out toward Mi’ojo and Tiran as concentrated pillars of pure Reiryoku. Six individual Cero each one as destructive as the other, the unadulterated heat and power of Helliodoro’s compressed Reiryoku. Blitzing out toward both targets, there was very little distance to cover and within fractions of a second, these Cero would meet their mark in unison. What the beams of Reiryoku could not pierce, they consume in a glorious detonation, swallowing even the Vasto Lorde himself and much more for hundreds of feet. With Tiran in his evolved state, it was likely that he would find himself gravely wounded, resembling the charred husk that Helliodoro once was, but alive nonetheless. These Cero while numerous were still young. The little Hollow however was likely to be a different story, as the blasts converge on the juvenile creature, they envelope the little being in its entirety before conflagration reduces the animal to, nothing within a moment. Had Helliodoro been caught in his own blaze, he was not invulnerable, the damage being heavily negated but visible, along his entire frame, the same vivid white rifts glow as they had before.
Far off in the distance, the reconstruction of Las Noches begins taking place. An impressive feat to behold by any stretch of the imagination, yet, Helliodoro had no care in the world for it. These grandiose palaces were nothing but false idols of importance and power. Whatever monstrosity came of it mattered all too little for Helliodoro in this moment and time. Reminiscent of the original roar that shook Hueco Mundo recently, there was another. Vincent once again screaming his lungs out, displaying his power to the empty sands and rocks of this realm. It was true that this vagido felt deeper, there was a greater intensity but it was still pointless, much like Helliodoro's own. Vincent was supposed to be the God-King though, why was he acting as no more than an animal?

 

[BSD]

Roaming, roaming, roaming. Aimless he wanders through the sands of Hueco Mundo, no destination in mind. The populace of Hueco Mundo has been scarce for the past three hundred years, this makes meals scarce, even opponents. Well, perhaps not opponents as every Hollow in this realm knows where to go if they seek a challenge or even comrades and that place is Las Noches. Lately, things have been rather violent in the direction of Las Noches quakes, different Reiatsu flaring up all manner of things that have given this particular Hollow a moment of pause in his roaming. He would stop, stare out at the horizon watching, sensing the ensuing battles between what he could only assume to be Arrancar, he envies them. He envies that they found one another that they can fight each other by giving it their all, to stand next to someone and not have them buckle from their power. He will join them, in time, those are his thoughts as he turns his head then continues his aimless journey. Aimless? In sense of a destination, his journey is aimless, yes, but as for a goal he has one and it is to become a Vasto Lorde. He can do it, he can evolve but that damned genocide has brought a halt to his progress. His strength swirls endlessly within him and if he were to become an Arrancar now he will surely be powerful but would anyone else stop when they know they haven't reached their maximum potential? How many more centuries will he roam before he obtains his goal, how long will he deny himself entry to Las Noches? The thoughts are an endless circle in his mind when he eats they are there, when he fights, sleeps, and travels they are there.
GRUAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!
A guttural roar echoes throughout the sands of Hueco Mundo, this gives pause to his stride, was this the God King's summons? He wanted to leap out of the Valley he now walks in but he hesitates, no, he must accomplish his goal before he can be of use to the God-King. He trots along, his destination still nonexistent his next has meal has yet presented itself. He wanders through a valley, large walls of sand on either side of him obstructing his view of the vastness that is Hueco Mundo. The valley seems to be coming to an end, he does not know what he expects to see when he exits but he assumes it'll be more of the familiar white sands he is used to. The valley he traversed was days long, he assumed other Hollows would take refuge within it and that he could gorge himself on these "refugees". He begins to exit and notices the colors in the sky it was like a sunset in the living world and once he fully emerges from the valley and stops atop a sand dune he sees it, more glorious than ever before, Las Noches. His heart, or lack thereof, shudders at the beautiful sight if Las Noches wasn't calling him before it is calling to him now.
His gaze wanders from Las Noches and he spots a scorpion and snake type Hollow, they are not Adjuchas, they are merely regular Hollows. They are young, experienced enough to know pack mentality and perhaps have even been to the World of The Living to feast on humans. He hears them, they bicker between one another something about how their old companion would have a plan, something else about how and why a mere human could have killed their companion. Their conversation is of no interest to this Hollow, he only wishes to devour their flesh and take their power for his own. Who knows, maybe he just needs to eat these two to become a Vasto Lorde, the tension gets to him as he could be THAT close to obtaining his desires. It could be two or, perhaps, it could be two-hundred or maybe even two-thousand. It doesn't matter since consuming these two will get him even closer to his goal closer to what he wants to be. He lifts a single hoof off the sand, ready to make his stride down to them and as he leans in-
"OOOOAARRRR!!!"
He freezes along with the other two Hollows, this one was louder than the last, it sounded more vicious than the previous one. A powerful wave of Reiatsu follows it, he senses it's crushing weight approaching him as he braces himself, flaring his own Reiatsu as a means of defense. The unfortunate Hollows below him are caught between a rock and a hard place as this unknown Reiatsu first claims their lives and then collides with this unknown Adjuchas' Reiatsu sending him flying back down into the Valley he just climbed out of. There was a sense of calm, the Valley he once walked was now mostly filled with sand while he himself was nowhere in sight. The sand moves ever so slightly before erupting into a tornado that spirals high into the sky, scattering sand in all directions. At the base of this tornado walks the Adjuchas, he pants heavily trying to recollect himself after being battered by that vicious Reiatsu. He lives, while those two weaker Hollows faded from existence he himself remains alive. Was this a culling? Like raking the fall leaves to reveal the lawn beneath was this burst of Reiatsu raking away the useless and weak Hollows to reveal the strong ones beneath it? No more, no more wandering. Las Noches has come into his view one too many times in his life and now, sick of dropping hints to him, it glows, shines and roars out to him. It can no longer wait and he himself will not make it wait, he begins his journey to Las Noches to join its ranks.

 

[BSD]

Heliodoro's first blast launched Tiran back and into the sands, steam from his acid evaporating off of his boney Hierro-like armor. After a moment he would rise from the sands seeing the Mi'ojo subject fighting off Heliodoro as well, which surprised the Arrancar. How quickly it learned to fight. Tiran simply picked a fight he wasn't ready for.. survival was now an issue, for he and this… eye creature Vincent had made. For a moment the Ressurecion evolved Arrancar thought about things they could do to get out of this mess, but figured Mi'ojo would be able to get out himself.
Tiran growled, and bellowed Acid from his mouth yet again turning the sands into liquid, and sinking into it, this time using it as a swimming pool to turn into the sands toward Los Noches and flee. During the time Heliodoro was blasting the Ceros he did, Tiran was several feet under the acid pools, which added as a layer to soften the cero attacks, which blasted Tiran out of the sands, and back toward Los Noches.
"HYYYYYYAAAAAAHHH!"
His flaming body shooting back down like a Meteor similar to Heliodoro's situation earlier, right at the entrance of Aragon's new castle foundations. Sand and smoke bellows before Resurrected Tiran crawls out of the smoky hole, coughing up a mixture of Sand, Smoke, and blood. He reverts back to his Humanlike form before crawling out softly and rolling over on his back, his clothes, and body burnt and parts of him bleeding out in areas.
"My goose is cooked… Lesson one learned, don't poke an angry Dragon to satisfy curiosity…"
Tiran had fled from Heliodoro, in the least expected way, but had left Mi'ojo behind to ensure his own survival.. there was nothing more he could do. Having just evolved, and learning how to fight with this new form, Heliodoro wasn't the best opponent. He may have to take punishment for this, he thought as he lifted his head and torso from the sands. He patted the ground for his glasses before sticking them on his nose. He stared down at his rather unusually built Zanpakuto thinking how he was going to survive anymore with just not feeling like fighting at all. Maybe he should just feel like fighting only to survive, no matter how much he despises his spouts of uncontrollable rage. He wants it though. Power enough that everyone else would just fuck right off. Leave him alone. He likes watching and being unseen the most.
He looked up soon and out toward the desert, toward where he came back from. He had no fight left in him. If Heliodoro came back now Tiran would be in trouble, but he doubted Heliodoro would be the last of his worries, he sat there thinking about, no worrying about the others, picking on him or even wanting to kill him because he was weaker than the Vasto Lorde that attacked Vincent even in this form. He survived the Vasto… at least this far. That had to count for something right? He hadn't even had the chance to train or eat further yet and still survived!
He blinked seeing these… strange fleshy floating Orbs wondering about, and grabbed one of it's spikes to hop on and take it for a ride. It floated back toward Aragon with materials, Tiran hopped off the creature, and sat on some rubble quietly, looking around at what it was Exactly Aragon was doing. Rebuilding? Interesting. He thought before dislocating his bottom jaw and picking up pieces of the rubble Aragon wasn't using, melting them down to clear the area he could build next. It would be rather funny to see a man as tall and thin as Tiran, pick up boulder sized rubble pieces with his head, and yeet them away. He'd sit down after and say nothing to Aragon. Mainly for he was stuffing his face with some of the former castle's rubble like cheese wheels.