Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3

by abcd12344321

Set immediately after Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 2, Peter-Knull has been displaced. Far From home in the realities beyond the void, he has to navigate this new world and new reality, all the while looking for a way back. Given his track record, he's in for a wild ride...

2. Chapter 2

Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3

Chapter 2: "The Blade and the Beast"

…

Peter-Knull sat cross-legged on the cold, smooth floor of his quarters, hiseyes half-closed as he focused. The sensation of "spiritual pressure," as the locals called it, rippled around him like an invisible ocean. It wasn't just in the air, it was embedded into the very fabric of this realm. He could feel it vibrating faintly in the walls, pooling in the sand outside, and even in the faint echoes of distant battles within the hollow fortress. It was unlike anything he had encountered before, a power both ethereal and alive.

"It's like breathing in static," Peter muttered to himself. His hand brushed the edge of the table beside him, and he swore he could feel the faint pulse of spiritual energy coursing through even that. He flexed his fingers experimentally, wondering if this energy could be shaped, controlled, fed upon, even.

A knock on his door broke his concentration. He turned his head sharply, his predatory instincts briefly flaring before settling back down. "What now?" he murmured, rising to his feet. The knock came again, firmer this time.

Opening the door, Peter was met by a pale-faced Arrancar messenger, bowing slightly in a gesture that felt more nervous than respectful. "Lord Aizen wishes to test your capabilities," the Arrancar said, his voice careful and even. "He… would like to know what to expect from you, if you'll be so kind?"

Peter studied the Arrancar for a moment, his expression unreadable. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, though his eyes betrayed no amusement. "I suppose I could use some fresh air," he said, his voice low and steady. "Lead the way."

…

The interior of Hueco Mundo's massive dome loomed overhead, an endless expanse of pale sands beneath an artificial sky. The air was heavy, saturated with spiritual energy that seemed to buzz against Peter's skin like static electricity. His boots crunched against the sand as he approached the designated sparring area, where several of the Espada and their Fracción had gathered to observe.

Nnoitra stood a short distance away, his grin as sharp and dangerous as the scythe-like weapon slung over his shoulder. "So, you're the big bad monster from another world, huh?" Nnoitra sneered, his golden eyes glinting with malice. "Let's see what you're made of."

Peter didn't reply immediately. He stepped into position, his movements calm and measured. Behind him, Lunaris hovered silently, its ethereal, cratered form watching the scene with an unnerving stillness. Its faint gravitational hum sent small ripples through the sand, drawing uneasy glances from the onlookers.

Peter extended his hand slowly, and what happened next silenced the murmurs of the crowd. Black, oily tendrils began to ooze from his palm, writhing and twisting like living shadows. The substance coalesced and elongated, forming a jagged, obsidian-like blade that seemed to grow out of his very being. The weapon pulsed with life, its surface shifting and shimmering like a liquid made solid.

The true horror came when the blade completed its transformation. At the center of the hilt, an eyeball opened with a wet, grotesque sound, its slit-pupil darting around as if scanning its surroundings. The hilt itself seemed alive, a twisted amalgamation of jagged edges and organic features. A screeching noise pierced the air as a tongue slithered out of the hilt's "mouth," licking the air hungrily.

Nnoitra's grin faltered, his grip on his scythe tightening instinctively. "What the hell is that?" he snarled, though there was a flicker of unease in his tone.

The other Espada watched in stunned silence, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright discomfort. Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses with trembling hands, clearly fascinated but unnerved. Halibel's calm demeanor remained, though her golden eyes lingered on the blade with quiet intensity. Even Grimmjow, ever the brash one, crossed his arms and muttered, "That thing's just wrong…"

Peter-Knull tilted his head slightly, holding the blade aloft. "This?" he said, his tone casual, almost conversational. "This is something I like to callVoidfang.It's part of me, as much as any limb. And trust me…" He shifted his stance, the blade's eye locking onto Nnoitra like a predator sizing up its prey. "…it's very, very hungry."

The screeching hilt emitted a guttural growl, its tongue flicking out once more before retracting. The air around the blade seemed to darken, as though the very light were being devoured by its presence.

Nnoitra spat to the side, forcing a grin back onto his face. "You think that freakshow of a sword's gonna scare me? Bring it on, you bastard!"

Nnoitra blinked, his cocky grin faltering for a split second as he realized Peter-Knull was no longer in front of him. The air was still, yet the faint hum of energy seemed to shift around him ominously.

"What the hell—?!" Nnoitra snarled, spinning around, but the movement was cut short as something metallic and sharp tapped against the back of his neck. He froze, the realization dawning on him too late.

"Back here," came Peter-Knull's voice, low and taunting.

Nnoitra's golden eyes widened as he felt the unmistakable chill ofVoidfangresting against his skin, the blade's eerie hum vibrating through his bones. Slowly, he turned his head just enough to see Peter standing behind him, calm and collected as though he hadn't moved at all. But it wasn't just Peter's sudden appearance that sent a chill down Nnoitra's spine—it was hisface.

Peter-Knull's features had shifted subtly but unmistakably. His mouth now stretched wider than it should, lined with rows of jagged, shark-like teeth that curved inward like they were designed for tearing flesh. His lips parted slightly as his tongue—elongated and forked—flicked out, licking over his new, menacing grin. His multi-layered eyes gleamed with predatory amusement, as though he were savoring the moment.

"You're too slow," Peter said, his voice carrying a faint distortion that made it seem like it echoed in the back of Nnoitra's mind. "If this is how you fight, you won't last long."

Nnoitra growled, his pride flaring as he tried to twist away from the blade's edge. "You think sneaking around makes you stronger, huh?!" he spat, trying to suppress the unease crawling up his spine.

Peter chuckled darkly, his shark-like teeth glinting in the pale light of Hueco Mundo. "Sneaking? Oh, no. That wasn't sneaking. That was giving you a head start." He tilted his head slightly, his predatory grin widening. "Would you like me to stop holding back?"

The blade pressed a little harder against Nnoitra's neck, just enough for him to feel the threat behind Peter's words. Around them, the onlookers exchanged stunned glances, even Grimmjow looking unnerved at Peter's sudden shift in demeanor. Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers, muttering something under his breath about "inhuman reflexes."

Halibel's eyes narrowed, her gaze sharp as she observed Peter's unsettling transformation. Her Fracción exchanged uneasy looks, but none dared speak. Even Lunaris, floating silently nearby, seemed to radiate a sense of quiet approval, its faint glow pulsing slightly as though resonating with its master's energy.

Nnoitra gritted his teeth, gripping his scythe tightly. "Don't get cocky, freak," he snarled, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his frustration. "I'm just getting started."

Peter smirked, his shark-like grin not fading as he lifted the blade away from Nnoitra's neck, taking a deliberate step back. "Good," he said, his voice dripping with mock amusement. "Show me what you've got. Or are you all bark and no bite?"

Nnoitra's pride boiled over, his grin twisting into a snarl of rage. "Don't you dare mock me!" he bellowed, launching himself at Peter-Knull with all the fury he could muster. His massive scythe swung through the air with deadly precision, aiming straight for Peter's neck.

The blade connected with a sickening crunch, the force sending a shockwave through the air. Nnoitra staggered back for a moment, expecting to see Peter decapitated—or at least reeling. Instead, his blood ran cold as he saw Peter's head tilt unnaturally to the side. His jaw hung loose, detached and dangling by a thin strand of black, oily symbiote matter.

There was no blood. No sign of pain. The jagged edges of the wound pulsed and shifted, the black symbiote strands knitting themselves together. Slowly, Peter's jaw began to pull itself back into place, snapping shut with an audibleclack.His shark-like teeth gleamed as he licked his lips, his glowing eyes fixed on Nnoitra with an almost playful malice.

"That all you've got?" Peter taunted, his voice slightly distorted from the damage but no less chilling. "I was expecting more from the so-called Espada."

Nnoitra's hand trembled on his scythe, his eyes wide with disbelief. "What the hell are you?" he spat, his voice cracking as he swung again, this time with even more force.

The scythe tore through Peter's midsection, cleaving him cleanly in half. For a moment, Peter's body split apart, the two halves swaying like severed tree trunks. But then, the impossible happened.

The open wound in Peter's torso writhed, the edges splitting further to reveal jagged, symbiotic teeth. The halves of his body hissed at Nnoitra, a guttural sound that echoed unnaturally in the air. The teeth snapped and gnashed before the two halves slammed back together, seamlessly merging as though nothing had happened. Peter's chest heaved as he flexed his arms, his form as solid as it was before the attack.

"You're starting to bore me," Peter said, his tone laced with mock disappointment. "Is this really the best you can do?"

"Shut up!" Nnoitra roared, his frustration mounting. He swung again, this time aiming for Peter's left arm. The scythe sliced cleanly through, severing it at the shoulder. The limb fell to the ground with a dull thud, dissolving into a puddle of black symbiote matter almost instantly.

For a brief moment, Nnoitra felt a flicker of triumph, until the same black matter slithered back up Peter's side like living tendrils. His arm began to reform, the muscle, bone, and skin rebuilding themselves in a matter of seconds. Peter flexed his newly regenerated fingers, rolling his shoulder casually as though testing its range of motion.

"Not bad," Peter said, his tone almost conversational. "But if you're aiming to take me apart, you're going to need a better plan."

Nnoitra staggered back, his breathing ragged as his confidence wavered. The Espada who prided himself on his unbreakable resolve now found himself staring into the eyes of something that defied all reason—a creature that couldn't be killed, couldn't be wounded, and seemed to revel in the futility of his efforts.

The crowd of onlookers was silent. Szayelaporro's hands trembled as he adjusted his glasses, his mind racing to comprehend what he was witnessing. Halibel's eyes narrowed, her calm demeanor masking the unease she felt. Even Grimmjow's usual cocky grin had vanished, replaced with a grim scowl as he muttered, "What the hell is that freak made of?"

Lunaris, still hovering nearby, emitted a faint hum as though in quiet approval of its master's display. Its glowing, cratered form pulsed gently, its presence adding to the eerie atmosphere.

Peter tilted his head at Nnoitra, his predatory grin widening. "Are we done here?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Or do you want to keep embarrassing yourself?"

Nnoitra, his frustration boiling over, let out a roar. "Let's see you take this!" he bellowed, gathering energy at the tip of his tongue, pulsing with destructive energy as he unleashed a massiveCerodirectly at Peter-Knull.

The blast tore through the air, engulfing Peter in a fiery explosion that shook the entire area. Dust and debris erupted into the air, obscuring everything from view. The onlookers shielded their eyes, the sheer force of the attack sending shockwaves rippling outward.

For a few moments, there was only silence, the dust swirling ominously as everyone waited to see the result. Nnoitra stood panting. A twisted grin spread across his face as he watched the dissipating dust. "Yeah, let's see you shrug that off, you freak," he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

But as the dust settled, that grin faltered and then disappeared entirely. Standing amidst the smoking crater, completely unscathed, was Peter-Knull. His form was untouched, his jacket still hanging casually on his shoulders, and not a single mark marred his skin. His glowing, multi-layered eyes locked onto Nnoitra, and the expression on his face was enough to freeze the Espada in his tracks.

Peter didn't say a word at first. He simply tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp and unimpressed. The look on his face said it all:Really? Is that all?

Nnoitra's eyes widened in disbelief. "What the hell…? That was a direct hit!" he snarled, gripping his scythe tighter. "You should've been ash!"

Peter slowly raised a hand, brushing a stray speck of dust off his shoulder with deliberate ease. His shark-like grin returned, though this time it carried an air of mockery. "ACero,huh?" he said, his tone casual, almost conversational. "Not bad. If I were a normal being, maybe that would've done something." He paused, leaning forward slightly as his grin widened. "But I'm not."

Peter-Knull let the silence hang heavy in the air, his glowing eyes fixed on Nnoitra as he straightened up, brushing his jacket as though nothing had happened. He took a step forward, each movement deliberate, exuding an air of calm confidence that made the onlookers tense.

"You're confused," Peter said, his tone casual but carrying an edge of cold amusement. "So let me give you a little context, Nnoitra. Maybe it'll help you understand why you're wasting your time."

Nnoitra scowled, his grip tightening on his scythe as Peter continued, his voice calm but carrying a weight that seemed to echo in the air itself. "The multiverse I come from isn't like this one. It's… chaotic. Full of gods, aliens, supernatural forces, and things far worse. Beings that can rewrite the rules of reality with a thought. Entire realms where concepts like life and death don't even function the way you think they do."

He paused, tilting his head slightly as though considering his next words. "Do you know why I've been around for so long? Why I've survived in a universe teeming with creatures that could snuff out entire civilizations with a snap of their fingers? It's because I'm not like anything you've ever encountered."

Nnoitra's scowl deepened, but he didn't interrupt. Around them, the other Espada listened intently, their usual smugness replaced by genuine curiosity, and a hint of unease.

Peter smirked, his shark-like teeth glinting faintly in the light of Hueco Mundo. "I've gone toe-to-toe with Mephisto and his minions—the so-called lords of the nine circles of Hell and beyond. I've stood against gods who thought themselves invincible. I've walked through the aftermath of a cosmic creation event so powerful it should've obliterated everything in its path, including me." He gestured toward himself, his voice taking on a darker, almost amused tone. "And yet, here I am."

Nnoitra sneered, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of doubt. "Big deal. So you're hard to kill. Doesn't make you invincible."

Peter chuckled, the sound low and distorted, as though it echoed from the depths of some unfathomable abyss. "Hard to kill?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mockery. "You still don't get it, do you? I'mnotalive in the way you understand it. I can go into states that look like death, sure. But actual death?" He shook his head slowly, his glowing eyes narrowing. "That's like taking a nap for me. Temporary. Fleeting."

The air around him seemed to darken subtly, the weight of his words pressing down on everyone present. Even Grimmjow, who had been quietly seething, took an involuntary step back, his instincts warning him that Peter wasn't bluffing.

"Iamoblivion. Iamthe void," Peter said, his voice lowering to a near growl. "I'm the space between existence and nonexistence. Killing me is like trying to kill the concept of the endless void itself. You could throw everything you have at me for trillions of years, and it still wouldn't be enough. All you'd do is delay the inevitable."

Nnoitra's bravado finally cracked, his scythe trembling slightly in his grip. "You're full of crap," he spat, though the quiver in his voice betrayed his growing fear.

Peter smirked again, his expression almost pitying. "Believe what you want," he said, his tone dismissive. "But you've seen it for yourself. Your best shot didn't even scratch me."

He turned slightly, addressing not just Nnoitra but the entire crowd of onlookers. "So, go ahead. Keep trying if you want. Keep swinging your blades, firing your Ceros, throwing everything you've got. It won't change the outcome." His grin widened, his shark-like teeth glinting once more. "The void always wins."

Peter-Knull's grin widened further, his teeth gleaming in the faint light of Hueco Mundo as he tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating a thought that had just occurred to him. The air grew heavier, a sense of impending revelation washing over the crowd of Espada and Fracción gathered nearby.

"Oh, one more thing," Peter said casually, his voice carrying a dangerous undertone that made even the usually brash Nnoitra stiffen. "Did I happen to mention? I have my own personally tailored Hell and a heavenly realm where I can send people."

Nnoitra blinked, his scowl giving way to open confusion. "What… what the hell are you talking about?" he barked, though his voice was tinged with unease.

Peter chuckled, the sound low and chilling. "Exactly what it sounds like. Where I come from, I didn't just survive—I built. I shaped. I forged realms to suit my purposes. A Hell for those who deserved it, and a Heaven for those who earned it." His multi-layered eyes glinted as he took a step closer to Nnoitra, his presence somehow growing even more oppressive. "Every inch of them crafted by my hand. Every soul in those realms is there because I decided they should be."

Nnoitra gawked, his bravado crumbling as he tried to process what Peter was saying. "You're making this up," he muttered, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Peter raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Nnoitra's reaction. "Am I?" he asked, his tone almost playful. "Would you like a demonstration? I could show you the gates to my Hell—just a glimpse, of course. I wouldn't want to send you there prematurely."

The blade in Peter's hand seemed to hum with approval, its single, grotesque eye locking onto Nnoitra as though it, too, were enjoying the moment. The hilt's tongue flicked out once more, a wet, unsettling sound that made several onlookers shift uncomfortably.

Nnoitra took a step back, his grip tightening on his scythe as he shook his head. "You're bluffing," he said, though the trembling in his hands betrayed his fear. "You're just trying to freak me out."

Peter's grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider, more predatory. "Believe what you want," he said with a shrug, turning his back on Nnoitra as if the fight were already over. "But if you ever find yourself on the wrong side of me, you'll find out exactly what my Hell looks like. And trust me…" He glanced over his shoulder, his glowing eyes locking onto Nnoitra one last time. "…it's not a place you'll ever want to visit."

The Espada stood frozen, his mind racing as he tried to reconcile the impossibility of what Peter had just claimed. Around them, the other Espada exchanged uneasy glances. Szayelaporro muttered something under his breath, furiously adjusting his glasses as he tried to make sense of the situation. Halibel's gaze remained steady, though even she seemed troubled by the implications of Peter's words. Grimmjow, meanwhile, crossed his arms and muttered, "What the hell kind of freak is this guy?"

Peter-Knull let the silence linger for a moment before casually shouldering his blade. "Now, if we're done here," he said, his tone as nonchalant as if he'd just finished discussing the weather, "I think I've made my point. Shall we move on?"

The onlookers didn't reply, their silence speaking volumes as Peter-Knull walked past them, his presence leaving an indelible impression on everyone.

…

Later in Las Noches…

The dim corridors of Las Noches stretched endlessly, the oppressive silence broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Peter-Knull walked at a leisurely pace, hiseyes subtly observing every detail of his surroundings. Lunaris hovered silently behind him, its faint gravitational hum an ever-present reminder of its master's unique nature. Peter had no specific destination in mind, content to explore the labyrinthine fortress and learn its secrets.

As he turned a corner, the sound of raised voices reached his ears. His steps slowed, his expression darkening slightly as he identified one of the voices: Luppi's. The tone was sharp, insistent, laced with irritation. The other voice, a woman's, was defensive, her words clipped and edged with anger. Peter followed the sound, his curiosity piqued.

The scene unfolded in a wide, empty hall. Luppi was standing far too close to a purple-haired Arrancar, his hands gesturing animatedly as he leaned toward her. Cirucci, Peter recalled, from the fragments of conversation he'd overheard in passing. Her sharp features were twisted into a scowl as she crossed her arms, her body language radiating annoyance and discomfort.

"Come on," Luppi was saying, his tone laced with mock sweetness that barely masked his impatience. "You used to be an Espada, right? Don't you miss the old days? I'm just saying, maybe you'd be better off if you—"

"I'm better off without you breathing down my neck," Cirucci snapped, stepping back. "I don't need your advice, Luppi."

"Oh, don't be like that," Luppi said, his grin widening as he took another step closer. "I'm just trying to help. You know, remind you of where you came from—"

"What exactly are you doing?"

The words were calm, almost conversational, but they carried an undertone of menace that froze Luppi mid-sentence. Both he and Cirucci turned to see Peter-Knull standing a few paces away, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Lunaris hovered ominously behind him, its faint glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Cirucci's golden eyes widened slightly as she took in Peter's appearance. The rumors had reached her—whispers of a strange, monstrous being brought into Las Noches by Aizen himself. She'd heard tales of his unnerving abilities, his calm yet predatory demeanor. But this was the first time she'd seen him in person. And those eyes… they were unlike anything she'd ever seen, glowing with a depth that seemed to pierce through her very being.

Luppi, on the other hand, bristled at the interruption. "What's it to you?" he demanded, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. He straightened his posture, trying to regain his composure. "This doesn't concern you."

Peter took a slow step forward, his boots echoing against the stone floor. "I asked you a question," he said, his tone unchanging but carrying a weight that made the air feel heavier. "What are you doing?"

Luppi's grin faltered, and he glanced between Peter and Cirucci. "I was just talking to her," he said defensively, though his body language betrayed his unease. "No need to get involved."

"Talking," Peter repeated, his gaze shifting to Cirucci. "Is that what it looked like to you?"

Cirucci hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected ally. She glanced at Peter, her expression guarded, then back at Luppi. "No," she said flatly, her voice cutting through the tension. "It didn't."

Peter's multi-layered eyes narrowed slightly as he turned his attention back to Luppi. "I suggest you find something else to occupy your time," he said, his tone calm but with an unmistakable edge. "Before you find yourself on the wrong side of a conversation."

Luppi clenched his fists, his pride warring with his instinct to retreat. But something about Peter's presence, the unyielding calm, the quiet menace, made him hesitate. He clicked his tongue in annoyance, taking a step back. "Fine," he muttered, shooting Cirucci a glare before turning on his heel and stalking away.

Peter watched him go, his expression unreadable. When Luppi disappeared around the corner, he turned his attention back to Cirucci. "You alright?"

Cirucci straightened, brushing her hair out of her face. "I didn't need your help," she said, her tone sharp but lacking the venom it usually carried. "But… thanks."

Peter nodded, his gaze lingering on her for a moment. "Next time, don't hesitate to put someone like him in his place," he said simply. "If you don't, someone else will."

Cirucci raised an eyebrow, her curiosity getting the better of her. "And who exactly are you?"

Peter smirked faintly, his sharp teeth glinting for just a moment. "Peter-Knull," he said, turning to leave. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Cirucci watched Peter-Knull for a moment, her arms crossing loosely. "Well, since you stepped in so gallantly," she said with a faint smirk, "how about you meet my allies? We've all been curious to meet our mysterious new guest."

Peter paused, glancing at her, then at Lunaris, which floated beside him. Its surface rippled faintly, almost as if responding to an unspoken question from its master. Peter tilted his head slightly, speaking softly under his breath. "What do you think? Stick around or keep moving?"

The symbiote seemed to hum in response, its glow flickering subtly. Peter nodded, his decision made. "Alright," he said to Cirucci, his tone calm. "Lead the way."

…

Meanwhile, Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio and Gantenbainne Mosqueda were sitting in a quiet corner of Las Noches, waiting for Cirucci to return. Dordoni leaned back, his arms behind his head, while Gantenbainne scratched the side of his jaw idly.

"You think she's getting herself into trouble again?" Dordoni asked lazily, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Wouldn't surprise me," Gantenbainne replied, his tone more measured. "Cirucci always did have a way of finding herself in interesting situations."

Before they could continue, Cirucci entered the room with Peter-Knull following behind her. His presence immediately shifted the air in the room, drawing both former Espada's attention. Dordoni sat up straighter, his usual casual demeanor replaced by curiosity, while Gantenbainne narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied Peter.

"This," Cirucci said, gesturing toward Peter, "is Peter-Knull. Yes, the one you've all been hearing about."

Dordoni's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding me. This is the guy?"

Peter gave a small smirk. "I prefer 'this is the man,' but close enough."

Gantenbainne crossed his arms, his gaze still scrutinizing Peter. "You don't exactly look like the monster everyone's been talking about."

Peter shrugged casually. "Looks can be deceiving."

Dordoni chuckled, his demeanor relaxing slightly. "Well, since you're here, you might as well join us for a bit. What brings you to our neck of the woods, huh?"

Peter leaned against the wall, his presence commanding without effort. "Let's just say circumstances beyond my control," he said, his tone dry. "But I'm here now, and I figure I might as well make the most of it."

As they settled in, Dordoni glanced at the glowing form of Lunaris, still hovering near Peter. "So… that's one of your symbiotes, huh? You got any more of those things?"

Peter's expression shifted to something between amusement and consideration. "I do," he said, his tone steady. "But I wouldn't want to overwhelm you. Let me introduce a few of them."

He extended his hand, and from his palm, black tendrils began to emerge, swirling and coalescing. The tendrils shifted, forming distinct shapes until three new symbiotes materialized before them.

The first wasPestilence-Bane, a sleek, rat-like creature with dark, glossy fur and sharp, intelligent eyes. Its tail flicked behind it, and its aura exuded a sense of cunning and adaptability.

The second wasGlow-Toad, a squat, toad-like symbiote with glowing, symbiotic growths scattered across its bumpy skin. Its bioluminescent glow pulsed gently, and its movements were slow yet deliberate.

The third wasGrave-axe, the Sym-Orc, a towering, muscular figure with green skin enhanced by black, pulsating symbiotic patterns. Its large, jagged axe glinted menacingly, and its glowing eyes radiated raw power.

Peter gestured to each of them in turn. "Pestilence-Bane, Glow-Toad, and Grave-Axe. They're some of my more… distinct creations."

Dordoni blinked, his jaw dropping slightly. "Okay, now that's just wild."

Gantenbainne took a step back, his gaze fixed on Pestilence-Bane, which tilted its head curiously at him. "What… what are these things made of?"

"Symbiote matter," Peter explained, his voice calm. "Each one is designed for a specific purpose. Pestilence-Bane specializes in adaptability and disease resistance. Glow-Toad is all about bioluminescence and healing properties. Grave-Axe… well, let's just say you don't want to be on the receiving end of his weapon."

Cirucci, standing off to the side, stared at the trio, her expression a mix of fascination and disbelief. "You really just carry these things around with you?"

"They're extensions of me," Peter said simply. "Each one serves a purpose. And if this place proves as unpredictable as it seems, I'd say they might come in handy."

Dordoni laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Handy? Sure, if you're planning to take over the world."

Peter-Knull let out a low chuckle, leaning back against the wall casually. "Trying to take over the world? I've had my hands full just trying to understand humanity, let alone the larger universes I've visited. Trust me, it's more trouble than it's worth." His multi-layered eyes glimmered slightly as he tilted his head. "Besides, my symbiotes are already busy in those three other Earths… besides the one I call home."

That got their attention. Cirucci raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she leaned in slightly. Dordoni sat up straighter, his curiosity plain on his face, while Gantenbainne's eyes narrowed, clearly interested despite himself.

"Three other Earths?" Dordoni repeated, his tone laced with disbelief. "And your symbiotes are… active there?"

Peter nodded, his expression turning thoughtful. "Yeah. Each one is… unique, to put it mildly. But let's start with the first one. It's a universe where one of my more human counterparts, Peter Parker—better known as Spider-Man, where that particular variant lives. He's got spider-powers, a strong moral compass, and an unfortunate habit of attracting complicated situations."

"Spider-powers?" Gantenbainne said, skepticism creeping into his voice.

Peter smirked faintly. "Enhanced strength, agility, the ability to cling to walls, shoot webs—imagine a humanoid spider with better aim and a sharper sense of responsibility. Anyway…" He waved a hand dismissively. "That particular Peter has a… long and complicated history. He ended up getting together with Hela, the Asgardian goddess of death. And before you ask, yes, Hela, as in Norse mythology. Don't question it too much, things get weird in the multiverse."

Cirucci narrowed her eyes, intrigued. "A human and a goddess? That's a little hard to believe."

"Hard to believe is just the appetizer," Peter replied smoothly. "In that universe, a mutant named Mister Sinister—geneticist, mad scientist, clone enthusiast, and all-around megalomaniac—managed to take over Earth. He didn't stop there, though. He enslaved the planet's population, subjugated its heroes, and extended his rule to the wider universe. Oh, and he killed Odin."

"Wait… Odin?" Dordoni said, his jaw dropping. "As in the All-Father Odin?"

"The very same," Peter confirmed, his tone grim. "Sinister managed to mix mutant and celestial DNA in ways you wouldn't believe. He built himself into something that even the gods of Asgard couldn't stop. After Odin fell, Sinister claimed the throne of Asgard for himself."

"That's insane," Gantenbainne muttered, shaking his head.

"Oh, it gets better," Peter said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Peter Parker and Hela had a daughter—someone who inherited powers from both sides. After a long, brutal campaign, they managed to defeat Sinister. But by then, Peter and Hela had twins. So now, those kids… let's just say they're half-Asgardian, half-human demigods with an affinity for both spider-powers and death itself."

Cirucci blinked, her sharp demeanor softening for a moment as she processed what Peter had just said. "You're telling me there's a universe where Spider-Man hooked up with a death goddess and raised demigod kids while fighting some mutant geneticist-turned-god?"

Peter shrugged nonchalantly. "Pretty much."

Dordoni let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "And I thought we had it rough here."

Peter smirked faintly. "That's just one of them. The multiverse is full of surprises. Trust me, this is barely scratching the surface."

The room fell quiet for a moment, each of them grappling with the sheer scale of what Peter had described. Even Gantenbainne, usually more reserved, couldn't hide the flicker of disbelief in his eyes. Cirucci, meanwhile, kept her gaze fixed on Peter, clearly intrigued despite herself.

"And the other Earths?" she finally asked, her voice quieter than before.

Peter leaned back, crossing his arms as he shifted his weight casually against the wall. His expression darkened slightly, his multi-layered eyes gleaming with the faintest hint of regret. "The second Earth I visited after losing Gwen…" He trailed off for a moment, his gaze growing distant. "That one was far worse. One of about seventeen Earths I wandered through before finding my home."

Cirucci tilted her head slightly, her sharp gaze softening as she picked up on the weight behind his words. "What happened there?" she asked quietly, the usual edge in her voice noticeably absent.

Peter exhaled slowly, his tone turning grim. "It started with a mutant nation—a place called Krakoa. It was a living, sentient island that mutants had turned into their sanctuary. A utopia for their kind. Or at least, that's what it looked like on the surface. They had everything: safety, power, the ability to resurrect their fallen. It seemed like they had finally found peace."

Gantenbainne frowned. "Resurrections? Like bringing people back from the dead?"

Peter shook his head. "Not exactly. It wasn't resurrection, not really. It was cloning. They would create new bodies and upload the memories of the deceased into them. It worked for a while, but… the cracks started showing. People began questioning whether the resurrected were even the same person they'd lost or just copies. It didn't take long for those questions to tear the entire nation apart."

Dordoni rubbed the back of his neck, his jovial demeanor subdued. "And the island? The… what'd you call it?"

"Krakoa," Peter said. "When the truth came out, it descended into chaos. The mutants fought amongst themselves. Factions rose and fell, all vying for control. And in the end, the island itself couldn't take it anymore. Krakoa… committed suicide."

Cirucci blinked, her usual sharpness replaced by genuine shock. "The island… killed itself?"

Peter nodded grimly. "It teleported nuclear warheads into its own territory. Wiped itself out along with most of the mutant population. The survivors scattered, trying to pick up the pieces. But by then, the damage had already been done."

Gantenbainne's expression turned grim. "And the rest of the world? What happened after that?"

Peter's gaze darkened further. "The collapse of Krakoa set off a chain reaction. It wasn't just the mutants. Humanity was already teetering on the edge of war, and the chaos only accelerated it. Countries turned on each other. Alliances crumbled. Eventually, the entire planet erupted into a global conflict—the nuclear kind."

The room fell silent as his words sank in. Dordoni's usual easy-going demeanor was replaced by a somber expression, and even Cirucci, who often masked her emotions, looked genuinely disturbed.

"I went back recently," Peter continued after a moment, his voice quieter. "Just to see if anything was left. What I found was… ash. Cities reduced to rubble, the land poisoned by radiation, the air barely breathable. It's a graveyard of a world now. Humanity, mutants, whatever else was there… all of it gone."

Dordoni let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Man… that's bleak."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her gaze fixed on Peter. "Why would you go back to a place like that?"

Peter leaned against the wall, his expression grim and contemplative as he began to explain. "One of the Peter Parkers I encountered… he fell in love with someone from that Earth—a mutant named Mystique."

"Mystique?" Cirucci asked, frowning. "Who's that?"

Peter glanced at her, his multi-layered eyes narrowing slightly. "She's a shapeshifter. Her real name is Raven Darkholme. She can change her appearance, turn into anyone or anything. She's incredibly dangerous, clever, and resourceful. But more importantly… she's a survivor."

Dordoni tilted his head, curiosity evident. "A shapeshifter? That's wild. So, what… she fell for your counterpart? A Spider-Man with spider-powers and all that?"

Peter nodded. "Exactly. Mystique had lived a hard life, constantly on the run, dealing with betrayals and fighting to protect her own. When she met that Peter, they were both in a pretty dark place. But together, they found something worth holding onto. They started a family." He paused, his voice dropping slightly. "They had three children."

Gantenbainne raised an eyebrow. "Shapeshifter kids? I didn't think that was possible."

"It is," Peter replied, his tone somber. "But life wasn't easy for them. Mystique had already lost her first child

Peter's expression darkened further as he continued, his voice carrying a weight that made the room feel colder. "On that world, much like others, there's a mutant named Kurt Wagner. You might know him better if you ever met him as by his codename: Nightcrawler. A teleporter, a devout soul, someone who tried to see the best in others. He's still around on my Earth—scarred but whole. But on that Earth…" He trailed off, his gaze becoming distant. "On that Earth, Sinister got to him."

Cirucci frowned, tilting her head slightly. "Got to him how?"

Peter exhaled slowly, the sound heavy with regret. "Sinister didn't just experiment on the living. He used resurrection—or, rather, his twisted version of it—as a means to play god. When Kurt was resurrected, he wasn't the man Mystique knew. Sinister manipulated his genetics, twisted him into something… monstrous. His teleportation ability was enhanced, but at the cost of his mind and soul. He became animalistic, feral, more predator than person."

Dordoni's usually light-hearted demeanor vanished, his face serious. "And Mystique? What happened to her when she saw him like that?"

Peter's voice was quiet but sharp, like the edge of a blade. "She tried to save him. She believed that somewhere beneath the monster Sinister had made, the Kurt she knew still existed. But… that wasn't the case. Whatever Sinister did to him, it was irreversible. He wasn't just feral, he was hungry."

Cirucci's eyes narrowed, her voice quieter now. "Hungry? For what?"

Peter's gaze flickered toward her, his tone grim. "For her. He tried to eat her."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Gantenbainne shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowed. "You're saying he attacked his own mother?"

Peter nodded, his jaw tightening. "Whatever twisted programming Sinister put into him made him see her as prey. She didn't have a choice. She had to put him down." His voice dropped lower, the pain in his wordswere apparent. "It broke her. He was her son, and she loved him more than anything. But when she saw what he'd become, what Sinister had done to him… it was like the final crack in her armor."

Dordoni leaned back, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's when the truth about resurrection came out, wasn't it?"

Peter nodded again. "Yeah. That's when the mutants learned the truth about Sinister's so-called gift. Resurrection wasn't about preserving life—it was about control. Every time someone was brought back, Sinister made sure there was a failsafe, a hidden code in their DNA that gave him power over them. Kurt was just the beginning. Mystique exposing what happened to him forced the truth into the open, but by then, it was too late. The damage was done."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her sharp gaze lingering on Peter. "And that's why everything fell apart."

Peter met her gaze, his multi-layered eyes glowing faintly. "Exactly. Krakoa wasn't just a sanctuary—it was a lie built on a foundation of manipulation and betrayal. When the mutants turned on each other, and the world turned on them, there was nothing left to save. Sinister made sure of that."

The room fell into silence once more, the weight of Peter's story settling over them like a heavy fog. Even Dordoni, usually quick to lighten the mood, seemed at a loss for words. Gantenbainne's expression was somber, his arms crossed as he processed what he'd just heard. And Cirucci… for once, she didn't seem to have a retort or sarcastic remark. Instead, she simply nodded, her gaze thoughtful.

"That's… a lot," she finally said, her voice quieter than usual. "No wonder you went back to help those kids."

Peter's shark-like grin flickered faintly, though it lacked its usual sharpness. "When you've seen what I've seen, helping is the least you can do."

Peter's expression hardened, his multi-layered eyes glinting with a dangerous edge as he spoke, the weight of his words pressing into the room like a storm cloud. "It wasn't just the nukes. Sinister and his little cabal—Charles Xavier, Sebastian Shaw, and Exodus—engineered that world's collapse. They weren't satisfied with ruling a mutant nation or even the secrets of resurrection. They wanted dominion over everything. They pulled strings behind the scenes, manipulated governments, and stoked the flames of war until the entire planet burned."

Dordoni frowned, leaning forward. "Wait a second. You're saying they started a nuclear war on purpose?"

Peter nodded grimly. "Oh, it wasn't just about the nukes. That was their failsafe, their final play when things started falling apart. Before that, they went the extra mile—ensuring chaos on every front. They consolidated power in regions they could control, like Russia, and turned them into breeding grounds for their armies. Armies that weren't just soldiers but drugged-up, genetically enhanced cannon fodder designed to be disposable."

"Drugged-up?" Gantenbainne repeated, his voice filled with disgust.

Peter crossed his arms, his jaw tightening. "They kept their troops constantly dosed with combat drugs—stimulants, painkillers, enhancers, you name it. These people weren't just fighting; they were barely human anymore, pumped full of chemicals to suppress their fear and keep them charging into the trenches, no matter the cost. And those trenches… they stretched for miles, like scars across the Earth."

Cirucci's sharp gaze lingered on Peter, her voice tinged with disbelief. "Trench warfare? That sounds medieval."

"It was," Peter replied, his voice dripping with contempt. "But that's the kind of hell they turned the world into. They used tactics designed to grind their enemies down, no matter the cost in lives. When NATO finally dissolved, there was no one left to organize a proper defense. Governments fell one after another, and the ones still standing resorted to guerrilla tactics just to hold their ground."

Dordoni let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "That sounds like a complete nightmare."

"It was worse than that," Peter said, his tone sharp. "They didn't stop at trench warfare or conventional fighting. They used biological weapons, chemical agents, anything that could sow fear and destruction. And all the while, they kept the populations under their control in a constant state of paranoia and dependency. Those who didn't fight were used as test subjects or bargaining chips in their endless power plays."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her gaze narrowing. "And the nukes? When did those come into play?"

Peter's lips pressed into a thin line. "When their plans began to unravel. Resistance forces started cropping up—small groups of survivors fighting back against their control. I wasn't there when it happened, but I've pieced together what I could. Sinister and his allies realized they were losing ground, so they activated their contingency plan. They rigged entire regions with nuclear warheads, ready to detonate if things didn't go their way. And when they couldn't hold their grip on power, they unleashed them."

Gantenbainne's fists clenched, his voice low and angry. "They destroyed their own territories? Their own people?"

Peter nodded. "That's exactly what they did. They didn't care about the people. They only cared about their control, their power. If they couldn't have it, no one could. And when the nukes fell, it wasn't just their territories that were hit. The fallout spread across the planet, poisoning the air, the water, the soil. The wars didn't even stop after the bombs dropped—whatever armies were left kept fighting over what little remained."

The room fell silent for a moment, the weight of Peter's words settling over them like a suffocating blanket. Dordoni looked down, his usual jovial demeanor completely gone. Gantenbainne's jaw tightened, his fists clenched at his sides. Even Cirucci, who usually had a sharp remark for every situation, was silent, her expression a mix of shock and anger.

"And Xavier? Shaw? Exodus?" Cirucci finally asked, her voice low. "What happened to them?"

Peter's multi-layered eyes glinted coldly. "They ran. They realized the end was coming, and they tried to escape. They set up strongholds in what was left of Russia, fortified themselves like kings hiding in their castles. But even that wasn't enough. When I arrived, I made sure they couldn't run anymore."

Dordoni glanced at him, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his unease. "You went after them?"

Peter's voice turned sharp, his tone carrying the weight of everything he'd seen and done. "Me and my allies tracked them down, one by one. We infiltrated their strongholds, tore through their defenses, and dragged them out. They fought back, of course—rigged parts of the country to blow when they realized they couldn't win. But in the end, it didn't matter. Their reign of terror ended, even if it came too late for the rest of the world."

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with the weight of Peter's story. Dordoni shook his head slowly, muttering under his breath, "That's… that's a whole other level of messed up."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her gaze still fixed on Peter. "And the Peter Parker from that world? The one who had kids with Mystique?"

Peter leaned back against the wall, his posture relaxing slightly as he exhaled a slow breath. The sharpness in his voice softened, though the weight of his words remained. "Eventually, we managed to salvage what little we could. The Peter Parker from that world, Mystique, their three children, and a handful of survivors—mutants, humans, people from all walks of life—we moved them to the Earth I made my home. A place where that war never happened. Away from the nukes, the chaos, the endless trenches."

Dordoni's brows furrowed as he listened, his usual jovial demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. "You mean you just… took them all to another Earth?"

Peter nodded. "Exactly. My home is a sanctuary of sorts. It's not perfect, but it's stable. It gave them a chance to start over—to rebuild, to find peace. For the first time in what felt like lifetimes, they weren't constantly looking over their shoulders."

Cirucci tilted her head, her arms crossed as she studied him. "And Mystique? What happened to her and Parker after all that?"

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Peter's lips, though his expression remained subdued. "They settled in one of the new towns we've been constructing. A quiet place, far removed from the chaos they endured. Shortly after we got them settled, Mystique gave birth to her fourth child—Gabriel Parker-Darkholm."

"Another kid?" Gantenbainne asked, raising an eyebrow.

Peter nodded. "Gabriel. He's just a baby now, but he's already a symbol of hope for that family, for all of them. A reminder that even after everything, life can go on. That there's a future worth fighting for."

Cirucci's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment, the sharpness in her eyes softening slightly. "And the people you brought with them? The other survivors?"

Peter's expression brightened faintly, a rare moment of optimism breaking through his usual grim demeanor. "They've been thriving. The states and allied territories have been experiencing a population boom. People from all over that earth, displaced by war, destruction, or disasters in their own worlds, have been moving into the newly constructed towns. The rebuilding effort has been massive, but it's working. Entire communities are forming, families, businesses, schools. It's not easy, but it's progress."

Dordoni let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "Man… you're basically building a whole new world."

Peter shrugged, his tone casual despite the weight of his words. "Someone has to. There's enough destruction out there intheir earth. If I can create even one place where people can live in peace, it's worth it."

The room fell into a brief silence as the three Arrancar processed his words. Even Cirucci, who often masked her emotions behind a sharp tongue, seemed genuinely moved by what Peter was describing. Gantenbainne crossed his arms, his expression thoughtful as he finally spoke.

"Sounds like you've given a lot of people a second chance," he said quietly.

Peter nodded. "That's the idea. It's not perfect, and there's still a lot of work to be done. But it's better than letting them stay in a graveyard of a world."

Cirucci glanced away, her gaze distant as though she were deep in thought. "Guess that makes you more than just a destroyer," she muttered, almost to herself.

Peter shifted slightly, crossing his arms as his expression darkened once more. "The last universe I revisited recently…" He paused, letting out a dry chuckle that carried no humor. "That one was something else entirely. A zombie outbreak."

"A zombie outbreak?" Dordoni asked, hiseyes widening. "You mean like the walking dead? Seriously?"

"Seriously," Peter replied, his tone grim. "And it wasn't just your average outbreak. This was a virus unlike anything I've ever encountered. It didn't just turn people into mindless undead—it retained just enough intelligence in some of them to make it worse. Imagine over seven billion people turned into zombies."

Gantenbainne's eyes widened slightly. "Seven billion? That's… the whole planet."

Peter nodded. "Pretty much. Entire cities were consumed in days, nations fell in weeks, and within months, the entire world was a wasteland. Only a handful of survivors managed to hold out, barricaded in the most remote or fortified places. It was bad—unimaginably bad."

Cirucci leaned against the wall, her sharp eyes narrowing. "And you just… walked into that mess?"

Peter smirked faintly. "I didn't just walk in. I've been there before. I helped contain the outbreak when it first started, tried to prevent it from spreading beyond that Earth. But the damage was already done by the time I arrived. The infection was airborne, waterborne, and even transmissible through bites. It was a nightmare scenario."

"What caused it?" Gantenbainne asked, his voice cautious.

Peter's smirk faded as his expression darkened, his multi-layered eyes narrowing slightly. "What caused it?" he repeated, his tone grim. "As usual… it was that world's Xavier. And a mutant named Beast."

"Beast?" Cirucci echoed, frowning. "What kind of name is that?"

Peter crossed his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching in disdain. "A scientist, one of the so-called X-Men. Brilliant mind, but with a tendency to lose himself in his experiments. On that Earth, he decided evolution wasn't happening fast enough. He wanted to beat death, to accelerate his twisted vision of what evolution should be. And Xavier? He didn't just approve it—he actively encouraged it. Together, they unleashed something they couldn't control."

Gantenbainne's eyes felt like dinnerplates now, "Wait, you're telling me they infected the entire planet on purpose?"

Peter nodded grimly. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Beast infected himself first. Claimed it was the ultimate step forward for mutants and humanity alike. But the virus didn't stop with him. It spread like wildfire, airborne, waterborne, and through direct contact. It wasn't just humans, either—animals were infected, too. Sharks, rats, crows… you name it. We had to fight them all."

Cirucci's sharp gaze turned incredulous. "Zombie sharks? Are you serious?"

Peter nodded. "Completely. Imagine being on a flooded coast, trying to navigate through the wreckage of a city, only to have one of those things lunge at you from the water. The infection didn't just stop at reanimating corpses, either. Sometimes, the zombies mutated—fused together into grotesque monstrosities. Plant-like growths sprouted from their bodies, spreading spores that infected anything they touched."

Dordoni whistled low, his jovial demeanor dimming. "That's some next-level nightmare fuel."

Peter's gaze hardened. "It was. Entire swarms of undead, fused into masses of writhing flesh and plant matter, moving like colonies. The survivors called them Hive-Zombies. They were nearly impossible to kill because even when you took out one part of the mass, the rest kept moving."

Gantenbainne rubbed the back of his neck, his usual calm demeanor cracking slightly. "And you just… dealt with all that?"

Peter exhaled slowly, his tone heavy. "It wasn't easy. It took years of fighting, scavenging, and researching to finally develop a cure. My symbiotes played a big part—they're immune to the virus, and their adaptive nature allowed us to create a strain that could counteract the infection. But by the time we rolled it out, the damage had already been done. The world will never be the same."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her sharp gaze narrowing. "And Xavier and Beast? What happened to them?"

"Well…" he began, his tone cold and measured. "Xavier, on that world, is dead."

The bluntness of his words hit like a hammer. Cirucci raised an eyebrow, while Dordoni and Gantenbainne exchanged uneasy glances.

Peter continued, his voice void of sympathy. "His former students, what few of them remained, held a vote. They decided he deserved the ultimate punishment for his part in everything. Death by firing squad."

Cirucci's sharp gaze narrowed, her arms crossing as she processed his words. "And Beast?"

Peter's lips curled into something between a smirk and a grimace. "Beast… I put him in my personal symbiote hell. A place specifically designed to contain the worst of the worst. He's still there, a prisoner. Every so often, he begs me for mercy, pleads for me to let him out, to end it."

"And?" Gantenbainne asked cautiously.

Peter's tone turned icier; his expression unreadable. "And I ignore him. His punishment is eternal. Every moment he spends there is a reminder of the chaos, the suffering, and the destruction he unleashed. Mercy?" He shook his head slowly, his glowing eyes meeting each of theirs in turn. "Mercy is for those who deserve it. Beast? He'll never see the end of his torment."

The room fell into an uneasy silence. Dordoni rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsettled. "Damn… that's harsh."

"Harsh?" Peter's gaze shifted to Dordoni. "Tell that to the billions who died because of him. The children who never got to grow up. The families torn apart. Beast made his choices, and now he pays the price."

Cirucci leaned back against the wall, her sharp demeanor tempered slightly by the weight of Peter's words. "Well, remind me never to piss you off."

Peter smirked faintly, though the cold edge in his expression didn't fade. "As long as you don't try to destroy a planet, I think you'll be fine."

The uneasy atmosphere lingered for a moment before Cirucci exhaled sharply, breaking the tension. "You've definitely seen some things, Peter-Knull."

Peter tilted his head slightly, his glowing gaze steady. "You could say that."

…

Aizen leaned back in his chair, his sharp eyes fixed on the live feed of Peter-Knull displayed on the monitors before him. His calm expression betrayed little, but the faintest hint of a smile played at the corners of his lips. The sight of the symbiotes, Pestilence-Bane, Glow-Toad, and Grave-Axe, had sparked a deep intrigue, each more bizarre and unique than the last. The way they moved, interacted, and pulsed with a strange, otherworldly energy was unlike anything he'd encountered.

"Most fascinating," Aizen murmured, his voice barely audible. His fingers steepled under his chin as he continued to watch Peter-Knull converse with the other Arrancar.

Beside him, Szayelaporro Granz was absorbed in his own analysis. The scientist's hands moved quickly across the glowing controls of his monitoring station, his golden eyes wide with amazement as he scoured the data. "Lord Aizen," Szayelaporro said, his voice tinged with both excitement and disbelief, "these readings… they defy all known laws of spiritual energy and matter."

Aizen's gaze flicked toward him, his interest piqued. "Explain."

Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses, his tone growing more animated. "It's not just that Peter-Knull is summoning these symbiotes from what he calls his 'symbiotic universe.' That alone would be remarkable. But these readings suggest he's pulling them throughtimeandspace, as if his very body is an extension of whatever lies in this 'void' he mentions. It's… almost as though he himself is a gateway."

Aizen's smile deepened, a glint of intrigue lighting his eyes. "A gateway," he echoed. "How curious."

Szayelaporro continued, his fingers flying across the console as more data poured in. "And it doesn't end there. Based on the energy signatures, his capacity for creation is seemingly limitless. He could manifest legions of these symbiotes, each uniquely designed, without any apparent strain or limit. The potential is…" He trailed off, recalculating a set of readings. "…boundless."

Aizen leaned forward slightly, his gaze sharpening. "And the source of this boundlessness?"

Szayelaporro hesitated, his brows furrowing in concentration. "That's where it becomes… incomprehensible. His energy signatures aren't tied to anything within our known dimensions. In fact…" He glanced up at Aizen, a mixture of fear and fascination in his expression. "It's as if he has access to a higher plane of existence. Somewhere that existsbeyondthe realities we know."

Aizen's interest peaked further, his mind already weaving possibilities. "More than the realities known to us," he repeated softly, almost to himself. His gaze returned to the feed, his thoughts turning inward.A being who is both creator and conduit, with access to a higher plane...

Szayelaporro looked back to his monitors, his voice growing more cautious. "If these readings are accurate, Lord Aizen, Peter-Knull isn't just powerful, he's operating on a level that could rival or surpass the gods themselves. And what's most unnerving…" He paused, adjusting his glasses. "He doesn't seem to be bound by the same rules that govern us. His existence is… unorthodox, to say the least."

Aizen's enigmatic smile widened, his mind racing with new plans. "Then he's exactly what I expected," he said smoothly. "A piece in a far greater game, one that could prove invaluable, given the right… guidance."

He turned his attention back to the screen, where Peter-Knull's form loomed over the Arrancar like a shadow of a deeper, darker power. "Let us see," Aizen murmured, "just how far his limits extend, if they exist at all."

…

Peter-Knull stood, arms crossed casually, as he observed the group in front of him. His expression softened slightly, breaking the tension that had built up during the intense conversation. "I've been thinking," he said, his voice carrying a subtle warmth, "you've shown me a bit of your world, and I appreciate that. But let me return the favor."

Cirucci raised an eyebrow. "Return the favor? How?"

Peter-Knull's multi-layered gaze scanned the group. "Food is one of the few universal constants. Everyone eats. But I suspect you don't have much to choose from here in the sands of Hueco Mundo."

Dordoni chuckled nervously. "Well, you're not wrong about that."

Peter continued, "Allow me to offer something different—a taste of my worlds. I have enough resources to last for eternity, and I think you'll find these dishes… interesting."

Cirucci crossed her arms, her curiosity piqued. "What's the catch?"

"No catch," Peter replied with a shrug. "Just don't waste it. The ingredients are rare, even in my universe."

With a gesture, Peter summoned a small ripple of black and whitesymbiotic matter into the air beside him. Three dishes materialized, hovering gently in the air before floating down to settle on a flat surface he'd created from symbiotic matter.

"This first one," he gestured to the first dish, "is from the Sym-Orc realms. It's honey-glazed symbiote ham. The texture might be a bit… unconventional, but the taste? Unmatched."

The second dish was a deep, silvery pie with a crust that shimmered like moonstone. Peter pointed to it. "From Lunaris. A moon-rock pie infused with gravity-altered spices. Light and dense at the same time—an experience unique to its origin."

Finally, he revealed a cluster of glowing, orange-sized berries that pulsed faintly with symbiotic energy. "And these are Glow-Toad's specialty. Luminescent berries, infused with symbiotic properties. A bite-sized burst of energy."

The group exchanged wary glances before Cirucci stepped forward, picking up one of the glowing berries. "What's the worst that could happen, right?" she muttered before taking a bite.

The moment she did, her eyes widened. A sudden warmth spread through her body, an electric charge surging in her veins. "What the…?"

Dordoni and Gantenbainne each hesitated before grabbing their respective dishes. Dordoni tore into the honey-glazed ham, while Gantenbainne cautiously broke off a piece of the moon-rock pie. The moment they tasted the food, their reactions mirrored Cirucci's.

"What is this?" Dordoni exclaimed, his voice carrying a slight tremor. "I feel… stronger?"

Gantenbainne held his chest, a look of confusion crossing his face. "Wait… I just felt… a heartbeat?" He stared down, his hand trembling. "The hole in my chest, it's… gone."

Cirucci gasped, her hand flying to her chest. "Mine too! What did you do?" Her voice was sharp, but it was laced with awe and disbelief.

Peter-Knull watched them with a knowing smirk. "Oh, that. It's a side effect. My symbiotic creations are built to enhance and adapt. Their energy can heal, restore, and even amplify certain traits. I didn't think it would close your Hollow holes, but I guess my food is… efficient."

Dordoni looked at his hands, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Efficient? This feels like I just got a power boost! Espada level, even."

Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "Well, you are technically consuming energy sourced from my universe, so it makes sense. My creations are woven from the void itself—designed to perfect, not just sustain."

Cirucci glared at him, though the edge in her gaze was tempered by curiosity. "And you didn't think to warn us?"

Peter chuckled. "Would you have eaten it if I did?"

The room fell silent for a moment as the three processed what had just happened. Gantenbainne shook his head, still stunned. "This is… insane."

Peter leaned back, his tone casual. "Consider it a gift. You'll probably need the energy for whatever's coming next."

Cirucci crossed her arms, giving him a wary but grudgingly impressed look. "You're full of surprises, Peter-Knull. I'll give you that."

Peter smirked faintly. "You've seen nothing yet."

…

In the depths of Las Noches, Aizen and Szayelaporro stood in the monitoring room, their eyes locked on the feed displaying Peter-Knull and the three Arrancar. Szayelaporro's fingers danced furiously across the console as streams of data scrolled rapidly past. His usually composed demeanor was cracking, his sharp grin replaced with wide-eyed disbelief.

"This can't be right," Szayelaporro muttered, his voice tinged with genuine alarm. "Their readings… they're spiking beyond anything I've ever recorded."

Aizen's gaze remained fixed on the screen, his calm facade betraying the faintest glint of intrigue. "Elaborate."

Szayelaporro adjusted his glasses, his voice rising slightly. "Cirucci, Dordoni, and Gantenbainne—just moments ago, they were at their usual power levels, nowhere near Espada-tier. But now…" He jabbed a finger at the monitor, the data glowing ominously. "They're each as powerful as me orTop of Form Nnoitra! This spike isn't gradual—it's instantaneous. It's as if their very essence has been rewritten."

Aizen's lips curled into a faint smile, though his tone remained measured. "How… fascinating."

Szayelaporro didn't share the sentiment. His fingers continued to fly over the console, cross-referencing the readings. "It's not just their spiritual pressure. Their physical structures have been altered. Regenerative capacity, spiritual energy reserves, combat potential—all enhanced. And look at this." He pointed at a separate feed showing an internal scan. "Their Hollow holes are gone."

Aizen's smile deepened, a subtle but unmistakable edge to his expression. "No Hollow holes… yet their power remains. They are no longer incomplete."

Szayelaporro slammed a hand on the console, his frustration boiling over. "It's that symbiotic energy of his. It doesn't just sustain, it transforms. And the way he summoned those creatures from his universe… it's as if his body is an extension of that void he mentioned. He doesn't just manipulate reality; he's a living gateway to it."

Aizen finally turned to face Szayelaporro, his calm voice cutting through the rising tension. "And yet, he claims this was unintended, a mere byproduct of sharing his resources."

Szayelaporro's grin returned, though it was shaky. "Unintentional or not, he's a walking anomaly. The capacity to create legions of beings, each as unique as they are powerful, and now… this." He gestured toward the screen, where Cirucci and the others were clearly adjusting to their newfound strength.

Aizen's gaze returned to the monitor, his sharp eyes glinting with calculation. "He has access to a higher existence… something far beyond the realities we know. Szayelaporro, I want you to analyze every detail of this transformation. The energy, the symbiotic matter, the way it interacts with their spiritual forms. Leave no stone unturned."

Szayelaporro nodded, though his unease remained. "Understood, Lord Aizen."

Aizen's smile deepened as he leaned slightly closer to the screen, his mind already weaving possibilities. "Peter-Knull is more than just a curiosity. He's a catalyst, one that could reshape the balance of this world… and beyond."

The room fell silent except for the hum of the monitors, the weight of Aizen's words settling like a dark promise. Szayelaporro returned to his work with renewed fervor, his thoughts racing as he tried to decipher the full implications of what they had just of Form