Log; complete
When; June 4, night [backdated]
Rating; PG
Characters; Aizen (good_and_proper), Alturo (winged_hubris)
Summary; Aizen meetings with the first Arrancar and it becomes a match of both minds and power.
Log;
There stood no dense wasteland and no cold death to hang in the air, and night had come to be the closest that Alturo could find to the desolation of Hueco Mundo that he had lost and craved for two thousand years. It paled compared to the home he had intended to conquer -- one of the three planes that would all be his -- but it cooled and, in the right locale, gave fitting enough tribute.
The beach, with sand and the cold sound of the waves in the dark, replaced it and would make a fine ground upon which to prove the to Arrancar that their lord was false to every definition of the word. False, weak, and shinigami.
Alturo felt the cool air strike him as sonido left his feet to rest upon the sand with but a stirring of dust, pale amber eyes searching to see whether that Aizen would present himself, or whether he had turned to run in a fleeting bit of sense. The faint breeze rustled his aqua hair, but did nothing to disturb the green-hued glow of reiatsu, the 'wings' that had fascinated Cirucci so on their meeting. Fenniche laid in its sheath still, until such laughable time that he would need draw it to defeat the man.
Aizen didn't so much arrive as much as he was simply there, his voice ringing out clearly behind his intended target.
"You're looking in the wrong direction, Plateado-san," he said, marching forward, his hands folded into the arms of his coat, "I see you've found the location. I was growing so tired of waiting for you. Must you be so slow?"
Aizen's eyes were in their usual way. Steely. Unwavering hazel pools that seemed to bore right through whoever was unlucky enough to catch his gaze. A smile that would almost seem friendly on anyone else was on his lips.
"Are you prepared, now? Excellent. I'll let you take the initiative."
Alturo did not like that the man waited behind him, gifted with an insight or, as the case was, the home ground advantage. Knowledge of the grounds? He allowed one short breath of laughter and afforded Aizen that advantage, as the man would need all that he could garner.
The words came in congenial enough a tone, designed to anger him, but when Alturo turned to glance over his shoulder at the man, it was with a cold smile and not the anger they had intended to find. "Such haste, shinigami, to find your death," he replied with another laugh.
Time wasted would only serve to make the appearance that this fight took time, which he had no intention for. Alturo disappeared in the same instance of speed he had appeared, then with that same controlled sonido, reappeared to the side of his quarry, an arm laced with reiatsu swinging towards Aizen.
"Bring for this 'power' of yours forward or be destroyed by mine!"
Aizen gave a warm chuckle, putting a hand to his mouth.
"Ah, but I've tasted death already. It's not as entertaining as one might think," he said, "But it's something I wouldn't mind sharing with you. One should always do his utmost to broaden his experiences, Plateado-san."
Aizen stood in place as Alturo moved, bringing his arm up just in time to stop Alturo's arm with his own. The iron fingers of the ancient arrancar were inches from his face, creating a small trickle of blood at his temple.
"So impatient, Plateado-san. You really should relax more. Such impertinence will only create stress. Here, let me relax you," he said, dashing back and kicking up a massive buffer of sand, then launching a high-level fire spell through it.
The spell turned sand to molten glass in its wake, as it headed for the arrancar.
Tricks were so necessary at the advent of battle? Alturo would have laughed, even afforded it, but his ire at the tactics rendered the amusement void. The rushed sonido back kept the sand from his eyes, but his straight path left him at risk for the casting of fire, to which he raised his arms. The fire met the cross of his forearms and held there an instant before he braced himself and his strength -- spiritual and physical -- to push it back and force it to break past him.
The aftermath left the sleeves of his white uniform singed, but hierro had protected his skin from the worst of it but for two burns at her forearms -- slight compared to what the spell had intended, but a dull pain he would see to later -- and Alturo straightened with a haughty grin. Flickers of black traced over the green at his shoulders, signs of his power stirring, but held at bay as he laughed.
"Two thousand years, shinigami," he hissed. "My patience exceeds anything you prescribe." Alturo moved, again taking the route of physical moves. Sonido assisted him once more as he moved, this time straight towards Aizen as he twisted his body in the landing second and sought to land a kick to his side.
Aizen caught the strike in his side, letting the impact carry him, rather than fighting it. He held his side and held back a grunt of pain, still keeping his smile. It seemed that the arrancar was growing more and more excited, his vocal fluctuations showing his mental state.
"My, my, Plateado-san. Such an angry voice. Two thousand years, you say? A shame that in all that time, you've so little to show> for it. How truly unfortunate. Alright, I'll let you join if you beg. Maybe you can be Luppi's fraccion?"
He wanted to push the arrancar and it was working. One of the problems with a being created from negative emotions. Deep inside, that spark of rage never truly died, no matter how much they grew in power.
"And of course, you'll have to refer to me as Aizen-sama."
Aizen skidded to a stop and used shun-po to cross the distance again, dropping low at the last second to aim an uppercut at Alturo's chin.
The speed of physical attack caught the edge of Alturo's guard, the hand catching his chin with enough force to snap his head back and the grin cut short as his lip caught beneath his teeth with force to split the skin and send a trickle of blood down his jaw. But that stalled not his hands, fingers clenching over the arm of the shinigami as he brought his head forward again, tongue tracing the blood hungrily.
"These are the lauded terms you would have tempted me with?" Alturo laughed and pushed back with his strength and a strong press of reiatsu, flickering in the speed of sonido as he disappeared from the front and approached Aizen from a different angle with the aim to strike with an arm. If that landed, another sonido would be taken, with another strike aimed; it was a pattern he could repeat as long as necessary, to wear down an enemy and frustrate them.
An appropriate tactic, for all the anger that Aizen stirred in him.
Aizen kept pace with the Arrancar, parrying the blows as they came. A few managed to sneak through and tag him, but he managed to turn with the strikes, lessening their impact.
"You are not the only fast one, Alturo," Aizen said. Alturo's next punch hit only air, as Aizen appeared behind him, holding a hand out.
"Black Coffin," he said, trying to trap Alturo in the kidou.
The laughter Alturo had allowed himself cut off when air met his hand and the force meant to land upon his target continued forward and pull his balance. That instance cost him, foot striking the ground to balance himself too late, his pivot too slow to catch more than the strong sense of power that grew with the kidou.
Alturo narrowed his eyes as the dark began to form around him, no intent to let this take him. His arms crossed in a brief focusing of his own power and he threw his hands towards the ground, triggering stark red crossings of reiatsu that cut towards Aizen and would cut everything that it passed beneath.
Escape from the kidou had been unlikely before and impossible now. Alturo braced himself as the last tracings of light disappeared, fortifying his power and relying on that with hierro to keep the most brutal of the offensive from piercing him.
Aizen jumped backwards, trying to avoid the arcs of energy that were zig-zagging over the earth toward him. This old one was full of tricks, it would seem. The lines of power singed some of his clothing and the bottoms of his feet as he soared high to let them pass beneath himself.
"Very good," he said, watching the spell take effect, "But I wonder how strong that skin really is?"
Once again, Aizen had neglected to utter the incantation before using the kidou. It was certain to be nowhere near as effective as he wished, though finishing his enemies with spells wouldn't be much fun either.
Darkness enfolding him reminded Alturo too strongly of the seal beneath the Soukyoku, anger rising with the pressure of his reiatsu, ire for the audacity of this recreation great. That helped to protect him in the cases where his skin could not, pain dulled in adrenaline, though hurt it still did, excruciatingly so more than once.
Alturo survived, though, his hierro blocking many dark spires, his power countering others. Those that did get through cut through his body and left blood pouring in their wake, but not enough.
When light pierced the dark coffin again, Alturo lowered his arms from the protective cross over his face, the smirk on his lips strained, but present as he drew four heavy breaths to steady himself. "Stronger than your spells, shinigami!" he spat. Darkness formed in his hand and his fingers clenched over it before he threw out his arm widely and released the power, which in turn shot high towards and above Aizen, swift in its attempt to circle the man and trap him in a column of black power.
"That was a severely lessened version of what I could have done, Plateado-san," Aizen said, his voice calm and even, "The game wouldn't be much fun if we didn't tear each other apart like civilized men, now would it?"
Aizen reached for the hilt of his zanpakutou, then slowly began to draw it out. Light glinted brightly off of it's edge.
"It's been awhile since Kyouka Suigetsu has tasted strong blood. She has been rather anxious, as of late."
Aizen was unable to avoid the blast, the column of energy encircling his form. He regarded the spell, trying to figure out what it could be.
"And furthermore," he said, cocking an eyebrow, "I am not a shinigami."
The spell was no refined kidou of those who had sealed him, but a rudimentary skill Alturo had formed of his will and power, to do nothing but hold them. Those who resisted violently felt the bite of it, but those who waited would be freed after only a few moments, but never had he encountered an opponent who would enjoy that freedom.
Alturo laughed as the power took, his opportunity ripe for the taking he initiated then, the power of the Soukyoku strong as he drew upon it, the green-hued wings tainting with pulses of darkness as he released his holds upon it, drawing the energy that it represented towards the powerful cero that had decimated each of the shinigami that stood before him.
"You are one, to use their spells and power!" he retorted, body braced to hold the cero until its release. "A foolish one, to turn them away and then treat an Arrancar as you have! You shall be no God over me!" He grinned and laughed, bitter and cold as he let slip his hold and let the cero explode towards the shinigami, regardless of whether his hold upon Aizen still held.
Aizen had only a few moments to study the effect of the binding spell, more interested in it than in his opponent's grandiose speeches. He looked up just to catch the tail-end of Alturo's taunt and the new attack heading toward him.
"...Ah."
Aizen focused his power inward, forming a dense layer around his body to absorb the blast. The cero rocketed into him, sending him backwards and tearing up a long line of trees and underbrush as he moved. All was still for a few moments.
"Well," came his voice from beneath a pile of lumber, "This is quite interesting. Interesting, indeed."
He lifted and moved the trees, brushing himself off afterward. He was bleeding from several areas in his body, but brushed off the pain and walked forward.
"I think it's time you witnessed something special," he drew his blade, "Kyouka Suigetsu, release."
Alturo had expected the battle won, none able to withstand the cero enhanced by the Soukyoku and the devastation of it this time, as with others, felt complete. No shinigami could survive that.
...but as Aizen rose from the wreckage, it proved that he fought no shinigami. Alturo frowned, fingers twitching in a convulsion of irritation, pale eyes not moving from the man now determined as a pest, persistent in avoidance of death, inviting him to crush him.
Neither did Aizen fight a simple Arrancar, but the first and proclaimed strongest. Alturo had not touched his own zanpakutou, Fenniche home in its sheath even as the shinigami -- by whatever name he called himself -- drew his own. Many others had, but he had little time to see what tricks they had.
"Ha! An act that will not save you," Alturo laughed when the words appeared to do nothing to the blade Aizen held. He moved with the swiftness of sonido, to where Aizen waited. When his arm jabbed forward, it was wreathed with a dark electricity, reinforced into an blade that rivalled the edge of a zanpakutou.
The blade penetrated Aizen's body...or what should have been his body. The false Aizen smiled at Alturo, before falling apart into dust and swirling around him like a dense, obscuring cloud.
"Perhaps you're seeing ghosts?" Aizen's voice rang out, "My illusions aren't nearly what they should be, of course. I'm only capable of affecting small scale ones at the moment, from person to person. You should feel honoured."
Aizen's zanpakutou was already moving, aiming to come down across Alturo's backside.
Victory that had been his was snatched away in that instant where the body dissolved, the trick -- an impossible switch! -- coalescing about him, an infuriating mess that he swiped at with his arms. Alturo growled his irritation and twisted about in the cloud, intent to use sonido to escape it when he felt the precursor of air, the whisper of cloth ripping under the blade.
Hierro protected him, the iron skin holding against the zanpakutou long enough for the Arrancar to jerk forward, pain spreading across his back with a warm trickle of blood where it finally failed. Alturo turned, ducking to keep the blade from touching the tainted bleed of reiatsu at his shoulder blades.
"Illusions?" he scoffed, reaching for where the zanpakutou should have been, memory of the pain contrasting with his eyes against any image that Aizen may present. Whether it cut his palm or not did not concern him, his instinct that the man could not escape if his blade was held. "Cheap!"
"There is no 'cheap' in regards to combat. Victory is victory, no matter the means. Concepts like honour are worthless platitudes afforded to those who can have such options," he said, putting his zanpakutou away.
He folded his arms in his sleeves and stood still.
"In any case, this is getting us nowhere. We seem to be about evenly matched."
No matter what he claimed, Alturo remained an Arrancar and ruled by anger, the instinct of battle. When his hand closed upon air and he heard the slide of the zanpakutou into its sheath, it took forcible restraint to not strike at Aizen for the opening made.
Alturo snarled and pulled back, the darkness tainting the green at his back fading back into the softer hue. His arms slowly crossed over his chest as he straightened, observing the man dressed in white, stained by blood just as he was, but still capable of fighting with a strength he had not expected and could almost respect, but for where it came from.
"Regrettable grounds to find us on," he replied, cold but grudgingly admitting the truth of the statement. Alturo could no more beat Aizen than the man could do the same to him. It was a contest of powers he had not expected to run into.
"Your abilities are indeed impressive. It is regrettable that you cannot think of a higher purpose than your own ego. You would make a useful ally."
Sousuke walked up to Alturo, putting himself face-to-face with him.
"Of course, it does raise questions. The power you drew on did not seem entirely...hollow. Where is the other power coming from?"
Alturo narrowed his eyes at words that went beyond insinuation, holding his head high no matter the pain it caused from the injuries of the black coffin. "No less regrettable than the fallacy you hold in being the God to those of Hueco Mundo," he replied in bitter kind. "Your ego holds you aloft to think that all should serve you, an ideal that few hold true."
Instinct warned him to jerk back, but Alturo held his ground, stubborn to the last as he smirked to the words. "That power is earned and possessed by I, but from a source you should recognise from being shinigami regardless of when you shed that cloth," he said lowly. "Or is it that you play dumb to not recognise the very blade that is called upon to execute those in defiance of soul society?"
"I am not God. I will BECOME God. There's a difference. I know my limits, else I'd not have needed to create arrancar."
Aizen blinked in actual surprise, taken aback.
"...Ah. So you stole the power of the Soukyoku? Hm. How strange it is that you insult my abilities, when you are the one stealing from shinigami. I worked to make myself strong. My power is natural. You are simply leeching energy from another source. And the fact that my power is doubly halved here, makes me question where your real power falls in the scale..."
Alturo's expression hardened, his patience with this man lessened more so with his words. "This is the power they sealed me beneath, it is my right to possess for all that was done to me," he breathed. "It was used to destroy them, and those who would repeat their foolish err. An err made in the fear of my power before it grew with that!"
The draw became tenuous, his temptation to strike down Aizen strong, but another contest so soon would be foolish. Let him play God with the hougyoku, let him think he had seen the full extent of his own power.
Alturo laughed and turned from Aizen, no longer interested in the words said. He offered nothing, no rewards for alliance, nothing but a requirement of submission and the audacity to suggest he could serve and Espada. One who Alturo would seek out and see what insult had been added, and would show that he would never tolerate that.
"You have seen my power, as I have seen yours," he called back over his shoulder, walking away. Alturo smirked, pale eyes falling upon the man once more. "But you were first to draw your zanpakutou. Fenicche will taste your blood, but until she does, do not think your power greater than the depths of mine."
"That has nothing to do with my statement," Aizen said, face as neutral as ever. He suddenly put a hand to his head, feeling slightly wobbly from the extreme usage of power, "The point remains. You are using shinigami power. You did as I did with my illusion. You used what was necessary to gain power. Do not proclaim as if you are any more noble than I."
Aizen turned to leave as well, but stopped suddenly.
"By the way, Alturo Plateado. I will be alive again, very soon. Trust me, you'll know when it happens. It'll be tangible enough to feel in the air," he said, straightening out his uniform, "And furthermore, you won't stand a chance against my more restored form."
Alturo laughed, the most pronounced he had yet, and paused in his departure to turn and face the weakened former shinigami. The difference or similarities in their tactics did not impress him, stirring his anger, but not to a spark. This had been impressive, and yet not, all in one blow; power had greeted him, but no ideology to worship. Wasteful!
"You hold what you like here, Aizen," he responded, discarding the title of shinigami, but not the disgust in his tone. "Claim what you will of your power, but I will not waste my time with you so soon. Have your Espada earn it, but dare not address me so quick and laud your power when this level of it has done so little."
"Hm. Your wounds and outrage would say otherwise, Plateado-san. Do take care of yourself. Perhaps I'll invite you over for tea, one day?"
Aizen coughed up a small bit of blood against his sleeve, then used shun-po to leave the field.
Rating; PG
Characters; Aizen (good_and_proper), Alturo (winged_hubris)
Summary; Aizen meetings with the first Arrancar and it becomes a match of both minds and power.
Log;
There stood no dense wasteland and no cold death to hang in the air, and night had come to be the closest that Alturo could find to the desolation of Hueco Mundo that he had lost and craved for two thousand years. It paled compared to the home he had intended to conquer -- one of the three planes that would all be his -- but it cooled and, in the right locale, gave fitting enough tribute.
The beach, with sand and the cold sound of the waves in the dark, replaced it and would make a fine ground upon which to prove the to Arrancar that their lord was false to every definition of the word. False, weak, and shinigami.
Alturo felt the cool air strike him as sonido left his feet to rest upon the sand with but a stirring of dust, pale amber eyes searching to see whether that Aizen would present himself, or whether he had turned to run in a fleeting bit of sense. The faint breeze rustled his aqua hair, but did nothing to disturb the green-hued glow of reiatsu, the 'wings' that had fascinated Cirucci so on their meeting. Fenniche laid in its sheath still, until such laughable time that he would need draw it to defeat the man.
Aizen didn't so much arrive as much as he was simply there, his voice ringing out clearly behind his intended target.
"You're looking in the wrong direction, Plateado-san," he said, marching forward, his hands folded into the arms of his coat, "I see you've found the location. I was growing so tired of waiting for you. Must you be so slow?"
Aizen's eyes were in their usual way. Steely. Unwavering hazel pools that seemed to bore right through whoever was unlucky enough to catch his gaze. A smile that would almost seem friendly on anyone else was on his lips.
"Are you prepared, now? Excellent. I'll let you take the initiative."
Alturo did not like that the man waited behind him, gifted with an insight or, as the case was, the home ground advantage. Knowledge of the grounds? He allowed one short breath of laughter and afforded Aizen that advantage, as the man would need all that he could garner.
The words came in congenial enough a tone, designed to anger him, but when Alturo turned to glance over his shoulder at the man, it was with a cold smile and not the anger they had intended to find. "Such haste, shinigami, to find your death," he replied with another laugh.
Time wasted would only serve to make the appearance that this fight took time, which he had no intention for. Alturo disappeared in the same instance of speed he had appeared, then with that same controlled sonido, reappeared to the side of his quarry, an arm laced with reiatsu swinging towards Aizen.
"Bring for this 'power' of yours forward or be destroyed by mine!"
Aizen gave a warm chuckle, putting a hand to his mouth.
"Ah, but I've tasted death already. It's not as entertaining as one might think," he said, "But it's something I wouldn't mind sharing with you. One should always do his utmost to broaden his experiences, Plateado-san."
Aizen stood in place as Alturo moved, bringing his arm up just in time to stop Alturo's arm with his own. The iron fingers of the ancient arrancar were inches from his face, creating a small trickle of blood at his temple.
"So impatient, Plateado-san. You really should relax more. Such impertinence will only create stress. Here, let me relax you," he said, dashing back and kicking up a massive buffer of sand, then launching a high-level fire spell through it.
The spell turned sand to molten glass in its wake, as it headed for the arrancar.
Tricks were so necessary at the advent of battle? Alturo would have laughed, even afforded it, but his ire at the tactics rendered the amusement void. The rushed sonido back kept the sand from his eyes, but his straight path left him at risk for the casting of fire, to which he raised his arms. The fire met the cross of his forearms and held there an instant before he braced himself and his strength -- spiritual and physical -- to push it back and force it to break past him.
The aftermath left the sleeves of his white uniform singed, but hierro had protected his skin from the worst of it but for two burns at her forearms -- slight compared to what the spell had intended, but a dull pain he would see to later -- and Alturo straightened with a haughty grin. Flickers of black traced over the green at his shoulders, signs of his power stirring, but held at bay as he laughed.
"Two thousand years, shinigami," he hissed. "My patience exceeds anything you prescribe." Alturo moved, again taking the route of physical moves. Sonido assisted him once more as he moved, this time straight towards Aizen as he twisted his body in the landing second and sought to land a kick to his side.
Aizen caught the strike in his side, letting the impact carry him, rather than fighting it. He held his side and held back a grunt of pain, still keeping his smile. It seemed that the arrancar was growing more and more excited, his vocal fluctuations showing his mental state.
"My, my, Plateado-san. Such an angry voice. Two thousand years, you say? A shame that in all that time, you've so little to show> for it. How truly unfortunate. Alright, I'll let you join if you beg. Maybe you can be Luppi's fraccion?"
He wanted to push the arrancar and it was working. One of the problems with a being created from negative emotions. Deep inside, that spark of rage never truly died, no matter how much they grew in power.
"And of course, you'll have to refer to me as Aizen-sama."
Aizen skidded to a stop and used shun-po to cross the distance again, dropping low at the last second to aim an uppercut at Alturo's chin.
The speed of physical attack caught the edge of Alturo's guard, the hand catching his chin with enough force to snap his head back and the grin cut short as his lip caught beneath his teeth with force to split the skin and send a trickle of blood down his jaw. But that stalled not his hands, fingers clenching over the arm of the shinigami as he brought his head forward again, tongue tracing the blood hungrily.
"These are the lauded terms you would have tempted me with?" Alturo laughed and pushed back with his strength and a strong press of reiatsu, flickering in the speed of sonido as he disappeared from the front and approached Aizen from a different angle with the aim to strike with an arm. If that landed, another sonido would be taken, with another strike aimed; it was a pattern he could repeat as long as necessary, to wear down an enemy and frustrate them.
An appropriate tactic, for all the anger that Aizen stirred in him.
Aizen kept pace with the Arrancar, parrying the blows as they came. A few managed to sneak through and tag him, but he managed to turn with the strikes, lessening their impact.
"You are not the only fast one, Alturo," Aizen said. Alturo's next punch hit only air, as Aizen appeared behind him, holding a hand out.
"Black Coffin," he said, trying to trap Alturo in the kidou.
The laughter Alturo had allowed himself cut off when air met his hand and the force meant to land upon his target continued forward and pull his balance. That instance cost him, foot striking the ground to balance himself too late, his pivot too slow to catch more than the strong sense of power that grew with the kidou.
Alturo narrowed his eyes as the dark began to form around him, no intent to let this take him. His arms crossed in a brief focusing of his own power and he threw his hands towards the ground, triggering stark red crossings of reiatsu that cut towards Aizen and would cut everything that it passed beneath.
Escape from the kidou had been unlikely before and impossible now. Alturo braced himself as the last tracings of light disappeared, fortifying his power and relying on that with hierro to keep the most brutal of the offensive from piercing him.
Aizen jumped backwards, trying to avoid the arcs of energy that were zig-zagging over the earth toward him. This old one was full of tricks, it would seem. The lines of power singed some of his clothing and the bottoms of his feet as he soared high to let them pass beneath himself.
"Very good," he said, watching the spell take effect, "But I wonder how strong that skin really is?"
Once again, Aizen had neglected to utter the incantation before using the kidou. It was certain to be nowhere near as effective as he wished, though finishing his enemies with spells wouldn't be much fun either.
Darkness enfolding him reminded Alturo too strongly of the seal beneath the Soukyoku, anger rising with the pressure of his reiatsu, ire for the audacity of this recreation great. That helped to protect him in the cases where his skin could not, pain dulled in adrenaline, though hurt it still did, excruciatingly so more than once.
Alturo survived, though, his hierro blocking many dark spires, his power countering others. Those that did get through cut through his body and left blood pouring in their wake, but not enough.
When light pierced the dark coffin again, Alturo lowered his arms from the protective cross over his face, the smirk on his lips strained, but present as he drew four heavy breaths to steady himself. "Stronger than your spells, shinigami!" he spat. Darkness formed in his hand and his fingers clenched over it before he threw out his arm widely and released the power, which in turn shot high towards and above Aizen, swift in its attempt to circle the man and trap him in a column of black power.
"That was a severely lessened version of what I could have done, Plateado-san," Aizen said, his voice calm and even, "The game wouldn't be much fun if we didn't tear each other apart like civilized men, now would it?"
Aizen reached for the hilt of his zanpakutou, then slowly began to draw it out. Light glinted brightly off of it's edge.
"It's been awhile since Kyouka Suigetsu has tasted strong blood. She has been rather anxious, as of late."
Aizen was unable to avoid the blast, the column of energy encircling his form. He regarded the spell, trying to figure out what it could be.
"And furthermore," he said, cocking an eyebrow, "I am not a shinigami."
The spell was no refined kidou of those who had sealed him, but a rudimentary skill Alturo had formed of his will and power, to do nothing but hold them. Those who resisted violently felt the bite of it, but those who waited would be freed after only a few moments, but never had he encountered an opponent who would enjoy that freedom.
Alturo laughed as the power took, his opportunity ripe for the taking he initiated then, the power of the Soukyoku strong as he drew upon it, the green-hued wings tainting with pulses of darkness as he released his holds upon it, drawing the energy that it represented towards the powerful cero that had decimated each of the shinigami that stood before him.
"You are one, to use their spells and power!" he retorted, body braced to hold the cero until its release. "A foolish one, to turn them away and then treat an Arrancar as you have! You shall be no God over me!" He grinned and laughed, bitter and cold as he let slip his hold and let the cero explode towards the shinigami, regardless of whether his hold upon Aizen still held.
Aizen had only a few moments to study the effect of the binding spell, more interested in it than in his opponent's grandiose speeches. He looked up just to catch the tail-end of Alturo's taunt and the new attack heading toward him.
"...Ah."
Aizen focused his power inward, forming a dense layer around his body to absorb the blast. The cero rocketed into him, sending him backwards and tearing up a long line of trees and underbrush as he moved. All was still for a few moments.
"Well," came his voice from beneath a pile of lumber, "This is quite interesting. Interesting, indeed."
He lifted and moved the trees, brushing himself off afterward. He was bleeding from several areas in his body, but brushed off the pain and walked forward.
"I think it's time you witnessed something special," he drew his blade, "Kyouka Suigetsu, release."
Alturo had expected the battle won, none able to withstand the cero enhanced by the Soukyoku and the devastation of it this time, as with others, felt complete. No shinigami could survive that.
...but as Aizen rose from the wreckage, it proved that he fought no shinigami. Alturo frowned, fingers twitching in a convulsion of irritation, pale eyes not moving from the man now determined as a pest, persistent in avoidance of death, inviting him to crush him.
Neither did Aizen fight a simple Arrancar, but the first and proclaimed strongest. Alturo had not touched his own zanpakutou, Fenniche home in its sheath even as the shinigami -- by whatever name he called himself -- drew his own. Many others had, but he had little time to see what tricks they had.
"Ha! An act that will not save you," Alturo laughed when the words appeared to do nothing to the blade Aizen held. He moved with the swiftness of sonido, to where Aizen waited. When his arm jabbed forward, it was wreathed with a dark electricity, reinforced into an blade that rivalled the edge of a zanpakutou.
The blade penetrated Aizen's body...or what should have been his body. The false Aizen smiled at Alturo, before falling apart into dust and swirling around him like a dense, obscuring cloud.
"Perhaps you're seeing ghosts?" Aizen's voice rang out, "My illusions aren't nearly what they should be, of course. I'm only capable of affecting small scale ones at the moment, from person to person. You should feel honoured."
Aizen's zanpakutou was already moving, aiming to come down across Alturo's backside.
Victory that had been his was snatched away in that instant where the body dissolved, the trick -- an impossible switch! -- coalescing about him, an infuriating mess that he swiped at with his arms. Alturo growled his irritation and twisted about in the cloud, intent to use sonido to escape it when he felt the precursor of air, the whisper of cloth ripping under the blade.
Hierro protected him, the iron skin holding against the zanpakutou long enough for the Arrancar to jerk forward, pain spreading across his back with a warm trickle of blood where it finally failed. Alturo turned, ducking to keep the blade from touching the tainted bleed of reiatsu at his shoulder blades.
"Illusions?" he scoffed, reaching for where the zanpakutou should have been, memory of the pain contrasting with his eyes against any image that Aizen may present. Whether it cut his palm or not did not concern him, his instinct that the man could not escape if his blade was held. "Cheap!"
"There is no 'cheap' in regards to combat. Victory is victory, no matter the means. Concepts like honour are worthless platitudes afforded to those who can have such options," he said, putting his zanpakutou away.
He folded his arms in his sleeves and stood still.
"In any case, this is getting us nowhere. We seem to be about evenly matched."
No matter what he claimed, Alturo remained an Arrancar and ruled by anger, the instinct of battle. When his hand closed upon air and he heard the slide of the zanpakutou into its sheath, it took forcible restraint to not strike at Aizen for the opening made.
Alturo snarled and pulled back, the darkness tainting the green at his back fading back into the softer hue. His arms slowly crossed over his chest as he straightened, observing the man dressed in white, stained by blood just as he was, but still capable of fighting with a strength he had not expected and could almost respect, but for where it came from.
"Regrettable grounds to find us on," he replied, cold but grudgingly admitting the truth of the statement. Alturo could no more beat Aizen than the man could do the same to him. It was a contest of powers he had not expected to run into.
"Your abilities are indeed impressive. It is regrettable that you cannot think of a higher purpose than your own ego. You would make a useful ally."
Sousuke walked up to Alturo, putting himself face-to-face with him.
"Of course, it does raise questions. The power you drew on did not seem entirely...hollow. Where is the other power coming from?"
Alturo narrowed his eyes at words that went beyond insinuation, holding his head high no matter the pain it caused from the injuries of the black coffin. "No less regrettable than the fallacy you hold in being the God to those of Hueco Mundo," he replied in bitter kind. "Your ego holds you aloft to think that all should serve you, an ideal that few hold true."
Instinct warned him to jerk back, but Alturo held his ground, stubborn to the last as he smirked to the words. "That power is earned and possessed by I, but from a source you should recognise from being shinigami regardless of when you shed that cloth," he said lowly. "Or is it that you play dumb to not recognise the very blade that is called upon to execute those in defiance of soul society?"
"I am not God. I will BECOME God. There's a difference. I know my limits, else I'd not have needed to create arrancar."
Aizen blinked in actual surprise, taken aback.
"...Ah. So you stole the power of the Soukyoku? Hm. How strange it is that you insult my abilities, when you are the one stealing from shinigami. I worked to make myself strong. My power is natural. You are simply leeching energy from another source. And the fact that my power is doubly halved here, makes me question where your real power falls in the scale..."
Alturo's expression hardened, his patience with this man lessened more so with his words. "This is the power they sealed me beneath, it is my right to possess for all that was done to me," he breathed. "It was used to destroy them, and those who would repeat their foolish err. An err made in the fear of my power before it grew with that!"
The draw became tenuous, his temptation to strike down Aizen strong, but another contest so soon would be foolish. Let him play God with the hougyoku, let him think he had seen the full extent of his own power.
Alturo laughed and turned from Aizen, no longer interested in the words said. He offered nothing, no rewards for alliance, nothing but a requirement of submission and the audacity to suggest he could serve and Espada. One who Alturo would seek out and see what insult had been added, and would show that he would never tolerate that.
"You have seen my power, as I have seen yours," he called back over his shoulder, walking away. Alturo smirked, pale eyes falling upon the man once more. "But you were first to draw your zanpakutou. Fenicche will taste your blood, but until she does, do not think your power greater than the depths of mine."
"That has nothing to do with my statement," Aizen said, face as neutral as ever. He suddenly put a hand to his head, feeling slightly wobbly from the extreme usage of power, "The point remains. You are using shinigami power. You did as I did with my illusion. You used what was necessary to gain power. Do not proclaim as if you are any more noble than I."
Aizen turned to leave as well, but stopped suddenly.
"By the way, Alturo Plateado. I will be alive again, very soon. Trust me, you'll know when it happens. It'll be tangible enough to feel in the air," he said, straightening out his uniform, "And furthermore, you won't stand a chance against my more restored form."
Alturo laughed, the most pronounced he had yet, and paused in his departure to turn and face the weakened former shinigami. The difference or similarities in their tactics did not impress him, stirring his anger, but not to a spark. This had been impressive, and yet not, all in one blow; power had greeted him, but no ideology to worship. Wasteful!
"You hold what you like here, Aizen," he responded, discarding the title of shinigami, but not the disgust in his tone. "Claim what you will of your power, but I will not waste my time with you so soon. Have your Espada earn it, but dare not address me so quick and laud your power when this level of it has done so little."
"Hm. Your wounds and outrage would say otherwise, Plateado-san. Do take care of yourself. Perhaps I'll invite you over for tea, one day?"
Aizen coughed up a small bit of blood against his sleeve, then used shun-po to leave the field.