-Bleach: The Sanguine Espada, Revised-

Chapter 3: Evolution

Butchering the body was a difficult process, its skin deflecting his claws like iron.

Even dead, it outclasses me.

Red light coated his hand, and with a grunt he cleaved the arm from its torso. It took him a moment to drag the appendage back over to where the cat was soaking the sand with its blood.

The feline looked up at Sangre as he approached, then down to the arm.

"F-fuck off!" He coughed, "I don't need you're m-mercy." Ignoring him, Sangre simply dropped the meat right in front of his face and started walking back over to the corpse.

You, who were powerful. Old. You, who had forever conquered your voices.

We will take on your strength. We will take on your voice.

His fangs tore into exposed flesh, taking care not to snap them on the creature's hide.

The taste, coppery and pungent, made his eyes snap wide. It was... wonderful. Crimson coated claws immediately began to slice open the armor which protected its muscle structure.

Quickly, he lost himself in the bliss of consumption. Power like he'd never known budding in his chest as the flesh slid down his throat and settled in his gut.

The weariness in his wings vanished, replaced by a newfound sense of levity.

"Oi! Stop hoggin' the fuckin' food!" A freshly regenerated cat shouted, causing Sangre to look over.

"I see you've... eaten." He observed, blood still dripping from his lips.

"I'm not that fuckin' dense."

"Hm. Come, take a share. No knowing when another meal will... fall into our laps." It looked at him like he was insane.

"And why shouldn't I just kill you and feast like a king?" Sangre paused for a moment, contemplating.

"Because I am stronger."

"Bullshit!"

"Did I not... best you, before?" He pointed out, "And yet still... I offer peace." It bared its teeth at that.

"You're lucky there's fresh meat right here, fucker." And with that, the two began to gorge themselves, quickly losing all sense of presence in their hunger.

By the time Sangre was struggling to scrape bits of flesh from bone, he felt as though he'd been born anew. Though his form was unchanged, the sensation which coursed through his veins was electric.

The barest feeling of fangs making contact with his side was enough for him to blur backward, putting a fair distance between the two of them. The cat was already running him down, its newfound strength propelling it at at least twice the speed it'd previously shown.

But, Sangre could still keep track, could still react, and so his open claws intercepted it mid-lunge, clotheslining it and hurling it into the sand so hard there was a heavy shockwave. Ignoring the open wound, it shot from the resulting dust and tackled him, sinking its maw into his flesh and roughly using the newfound grip to topple him to the ground.

Sangre managed to catch himself with his free hand, then drove a knee into the feline's ribcage while grabbing hold of its jaw, using the pain-induced flinch to pry its fangs from his collar, then slammed it into the sand a second time. Not letting go of this shift in advantage, he sent it flying with a ruthless kick.

It's form is... limited, it seems. It did not possess the... options of a bipedal shape. While he doubted such would be true with one, its current state made it predictable. At least, in an even fight.

That train of thought was shattered, however, when a speeding azure bolt collided with his chest at a ludicrous speed. The wake of force which resulted from the strike sent oceanic waves of sand crashing to either side. He was carried along like a ragdoll, all as a heat began to sear against his chest before the ear-numbing thrum of the blast washed over him. The world turned bright, blue, and pain.

He snarled through gritted teeth, a building growl which quickly exploded into an animalistic roar, buffeting the dunes at his back with its fervor. In spite of his protests, the blanket of burning light was pressing him further and further back, its heat threatening to melt through his enforced Hierro at any moment.

But he refused.

Heels dug into the sand behind him so deep that he would sooner fold in two than lose another inch, before letting loose his own wave of crimson. The combined radiance of their clash glassed the landscape, the floor itself glowing white-hot. He felt that heat entrap his legs, the pain only making him scream his retaliation with an even deeper desperation.

Crimson light suddenly shone a deep burgundy, the thrum shifting to a high whine as the energy began to split through his foe's assault. He knew not where it came from, only that his body felt burned, both inside and out.

When the smoke and residual energy cleared, he could still make out strange... warps in the air around him. It was only then that he realized.

I... I live?

He glanced down at his legs, now knee-deep in quickly cooling molten glass, and swiftly tore himself skyward.

But not swiftly enough to avoid being tackled a second time, an uninjured, furious cat latching onto him and dragging him into the now hard and unforgiving ground.

It took a moment for him to catch up to the tide of the fight, and it took another for him to confirm that he couldn't move in the slightest.

"Fucking finally." It heaved, "Thought I'd never pin you down."

"And now that you have?" Its claws gripped down tighter, the glass beneath them cracking, before releasing him as it hopped back.

"Not worth it."

"Why?"

"Because you make for a better fight than a meal."

"What do you... mean?"

"I said you taste like shit!" It barked, "Now shut the fuck up and go find some food that doesn't make me gag. I'm King, so you do what I say. Got it?"

Sangre merely nodded. He had been bested, after all. Only one question lingered in his mind.

"Your name, King?"

"Tch, fuckin' softie." It grumbled, "Grimmjow. That's my damn name, so don't wear it out!"

There was a very strange feeling, then, a sort of... twitch, on either side of his lips.

"You want... food? Very well... Grimmjow."

"Oi! What'd I just say!"

"Hn." With that, Sangre set out into the yawning, black abyss above, already spotting a group of figures in the far distance. They were hardly more than dots, but he could... feel them, now. Not in the sense of feeling their strength, but...

Their blood? I feel... their blood?

The idea seemed so nonsensical, but there was no denying this sensation in his chest. Whatever those dots on the ground were, they were alive. He could simply tell.

Too far.

It would take an age to catch the group, but it was all he could perceive, even with an unrivaled bird's eye view.

A hunt, then?

Grimmjow would be pleased.


Sorry for the break, lost my groove for a while and Elden Ring is a big time-sink for me atm.

FINALLY, I can stop referring to Grimmjow as synonyms for cats. That was probably the hardest part of writing these chapters, to be honest XD

We've got another two prologue chapters lined up before we catch up with canon(the scouting mission with Ulqui) and they'll probably be a little longer than these three.

Anyway, that's all I've got for now, Buh-Bye!

Oh, and don't forget to r&r if you feel like it, I guess?