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...

12. Chapter 12

Marvel: From the Void and Back Again, Part 3

Chapter 12: Return To the Savage Lands, Part 2

…

The arena buzzed with an electric tension as Nick Fury, flanked by a remarkable entourage, stepped into the prehistoric landscape. Starrk and Lillinette, ever the aloof pair, observed the proceedings with quiet detachment. Beside them, Harribel stood tall with her Fracción, Mila Rose, Sung-Sun, and Apache, closely guarding her flank. They were joined by Captain Amagi, radiating calm authority, and Captain Unohana, whose serene smile belied her readiness to intervene if necessary. Members of Squad 4 followed closely, their expressions determined as they prepared to provide medical aid if the combat took a dangerous turn.

Behind the Shinigami contingent, Peter-Knull's towering figure loomed over the crowd. His presence was a stark reminder that he would ensure Orchis played by the rules. Jane, Logan, Laura, and the others stood nearby, their expressions hard as steel as they surveyed the arena. Among the onlookers, Ichigo, Chad, Uryu, Orihime, Rukia, and Renji had taken seats, marveling at the strange, prehistoric world surrounding them. Though their spirits lifted slightly at the awe-inspiring sight of dinosaurs grazing in the distance, the gravity of the situation weighed heavily on them.

Ka-Zar, the guardian of the Savage Lands, emerged from the shadows and approached Grimmjow, who was stretching and cracking his neck in preparation. The blue-haired Espada radiated confidence, but Ka-Zar's voice cut through the din.

"You're up against one of Orchis's more insidious creations, a nimrod Sentinel that absorbs mutant powers when in close proximity. It's fast, adaptive, and a walking arsenal. Its onboard weaponry is designed to counter most combatants, and its processing speed makes it as close to invincible as anything I've seen," Ka-Zar explained, his tone grave.

Grimmjow's grin only widened. "Sounds like a perfect challenge. What's the weakness?"

Ka-Zar hesitated, then added, "It struggles to use multiple powers simultaneously. If you can bait it into overloading or force it to switch its focus, you might create an opening. Your Ceros are probably your best bet, they're not something it's built to handle efficiently. Just don't let it get too close for too long."

Grimmjow let out a low chuckle, the blue glow of his reiatsu flickering around him like wildfire. "Absorbs powers, huh? Let's see if it can handle mine."

…

The arena floor was a circle of ancient, jagged stone surrounded by natural amphitheater-like cliffs. Grimmjow stepped into the center, his footsteps echoing ominously. Across from him, the Sentinel emerged from the shadows, its hulking frame gleaming with an unnatural sheen of silver and Purple. Its eyes scanned Grimmjow with an eerie glow, and its movements were unnaturally fluid for something so large.

"Let's get this over with," Grimmjow snarled, his claws glowing faintly as his reiatsu spiked.

The Sentinel's voice was a cold, mechanical monotone. "Target identified: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez. Threat level: high. Initiating combat protocols."

It wasted no time, firing a barrage of energy blasts from its chest. Grimmjow barely moved as he sidestepped them, the ground exploding in bursts of stone and dust around him. He closed the gap in an instant, appearing behind the machine with a Sonido. His claws slashed at its back, but the Sentinel twisted unnaturally, dodging most of the blow and absorbing the residual energy.

"Nice try," Grimmjow taunted, jumping back just in time to avoid a retaliatory plasma blade that extended from the Sentinel's arm.

Ka-Zar's advice rang in his ears. Keep it guessing. Keep it overloaded. Grimmjow began firing small, rapid Ceros, forcing the Sentinel to defend itself and analyze the energy signature. The arena lit up with bursts of blue as the machine adapted, firing countermeasures and recalibrating.

"You like adapting? Let's see how fast you are!" Grimmjow roared, his reiatsu flaring dangerously as he charged a more powerful Cero in his hand. He hurled it directly at the Sentinel, which raised an energy shield in response. The explosion rocked the arena, and for a moment, Grimmjow vanished in the smoke.

The crowd held its breath.

As the dust cleared, Grimmjow stood atop the Sentinel, his claws glowing with concentrated energy. "You're tough, I'll give you that," he muttered before plunging his claws into its chest. Sparks flew as the machine twisted violently, throwing him off with a forceful blast of energy. It lunged after him, moving with shocking speed, but Grimmjow anticipated its attack. Using another Sonido, he reappeared at its flank, launching another point-blank Cero at its leg joints.

The Sentinel stumbled, its systems overloading as it tried to absorb and counter Grimmjow's relentless assault. Ka-Zar's voice echoed in his mind again. Overload it.

Grimmjow smirked as he launched himself into the air, charging one final, massive Cero in a blinding flash of light. The blast struck the Sentinel head-on, engulfing it in a massive explosion. When the dust settled, the Sentinel was still standing, though its armor was scorched and its movements were noticeably slower.

Grimmjow landed, panting slightly but still grinning. "Not bad, tin can. Not bad at all."

The Sentinel raised its damaged arm, preparing another counterattack, but Grimmjow didn't give it the chance. With a final burst of speed, he appeared behind it, driving his claws into its back and severing a critical power core. The machine froze, sparks flying, before collapsing in a heap of metal and smoke.

The arena had barely begun to quiet down as Grimmjow turned to walk away, his trademark feral grin plastered across his face. He was about to make some cocky remark to Ka-Zar when something made him freeze. His sharp eyes caught movement from the corner of his vision, something about the fallen Sentinel didn't sit right. The crowd's murmurs turned to hushed silence as everyone watched.

The arena had barely begun to quiet down as Grimmjow turned to walk away, his trademark feral grin plastered across his face. He was about to make some cocky remark to Ka-Zar when something made him freeze. His sharp eyes caught movement from the corner of his vision—something about the fallen Sentinel didn't sit right. The crowd's murmurs turned to hushed silence as everyone watched, tension palpable in the air.

The Sentinel's outer shell began to crack and flake away, the sharp sounds of splitting metal echoing like brittle glass breaking under pressure. Beneath the scorched and damaged surface, something new was emerging, something darker, sleeker, and unsettlingly familiar. Grimmjow narrowed his eyes as he turned back to face the monstrosity.

"What the hell…?" he muttered, stepping closer. His gaze darted over the exposed metal beneath the surface, noticing its unusual sheen. The composition of the metal, the jagged edges of the cracks—it was almost biological, as though the machine had begun to mimic organic structures. His eyes widened as recognition dawned.

"What-? HOLY FUCK!" Grimmjow roared, leaping back just in time as the Sentinel's chest cavity expanded, its jagged edges glowing faintly with a sinister crimson hue. The hole in its chest resembled a hollow, a giant, unmistakable hole that every Arrancar knew all too well. A horrifying, low hum emanated from the creature as it began to rise, its movements eerily fluid for something so mechanical.

The audience erupted in panicked shouts, but Grimmjow was transfixed, his feral grin replaced by a look of shock. The creature's glowing eyes locked onto him, and its cold, mechanical voice echoed in the arena, sending chills down everyone's spines.

"Analysis of unknown genetic profile… completed," the Sentinel intoned, its voice layered with mechanical precision and something else, something hauntingly alive.

Grimmjow clenched his fists, his reiatsu flaring instinctively as he took a step forward. "That thing… it's adapting again… but this, this isn't just adaptation. What the hell is this?!"

Ka-Zar, still standing nearby, looked equally unnerved. "I don't know… but whatever it is, it's not a Sentinel anymore."

The resurrected Nimrod flexed its limbs, the movements disturbingly smooth, as though it had cast off its clunky, mechanical limitations. Its body now bore a seamless fusion of alien metal and something organic, pulsating faintly with energy. Its chest cavity—the hollow-like hole, glowed ominously, and its gaze swept over the arena.

Peter-Knull, standing at the edge of the amphitheater, narrowed his eyes as he took a step forward. "It's not just a machine anymore. It's something else entirely."

Nick Fury, now flanked by Captain Amagi and Starrk, barked into his comms, "Everyone, stay sharp! This thing just became an entirely different kind of threat."

Logan snarled, his claws sliding out as he instinctively moved closer to Jane and Laura. "That thing… it looks like it's got a Hollow hole. How's that even possible?"

Jane tightened her grip on her gear, glancing at Logan. "Orchis… they must'vespliced some mimicking tech in it that allows it to mimic other things besides mutants!"

This isn't just some adaptive machine anymore. It's alive."

As if responding to the mounting tension, the Nimrod's voice boomed again, this time with a strange, almost taunting edge.

"New directive: Eliminate remaining genetic threats. Assimilate Hollow genetic material."

Grimmjow's expression darkened, his reiatsu blazing around him like a storm. "Oh, you think you can just take Hollow power and use it? Let's see how you handle the real thing, you freak!" He launched himself at the creature, claws glowing with raw energy.

The Nimrod reacted instantly, raising an arm that morphed into a sleek, blade-like appendage. The two collided in mid-air, sending shockwaves through the arena as Grimmjow's claws clashed against the creature's reinforced arm. Sparks flew, and for a moment, the two were locked in a battle of raw strength.

"I'm gonna tear you apart!" Grimmjow snarled, his grin returning as his bloodlust surged.

The crowd could only watch in stunned silence as the battle escalated, the stakes higher than anyone had anticipated. Whatever this new threat was, it had just become clear that the fight was far from over, and Grimmjow, for all his bravado, was now facing a nightmare far beyond his wildest expectations.

…

The battle had become a blur of chaos and desperation. Grimmjow's relentless attacks tore into the mutated Nimrod, his claws slashing and tearing through its armor with raw fury. But no matter how much damage he dealt, the creature adapted faster than he could anticipate. The Sentinel now moved like a predator, its mechanical precision fused with the predatory instincts of a Hollow. Each strike it delivered came with terrifying accuracy, and the blows hit like a freight train.

Grimmjow dodged another strike, his chest heaving as he barely avoided a beam of crimson energy. The crowd gasped as the creature fired its ownCero, the devastating beam obliterating part of the arena wall behind him. Grimmjow's eyes widened in shock.

"What the hell? It's firing Ceros now?!" he spat, panic creeping into his usually confident tone. He threw himself forward, his claws glowing as he launched his own Cero in retaliation. The blast struck the Nimrod square in the chest, but it shrugged off the attack, its adaptive armor hardening to absorb the brunt of the damage.

From the stands, Starrk leaned forward, his normally aloof demeanor replaced by concern. "That thing's getting stronger the longer this fight drags on," he muttered, glancing at Lilynette, who was gripping the edge of her seat with wide eyes.

Haribel and her Fracción stood with grim expressions, their eyes fixed on the battlefield. Mila Rose growled under her breath, "If this is what humans can make… what else are they capable of?"

Shūhei Hisagi, one of the shinigami observers, watched the battle with a mix of horror and awe. "It's adapting to Hollow powers… that's not just technology. That's something else entirely," he said, his voice tight.

The Nimrod lunged at Grimmjow with an otherworldly speed, its blade-like arm slicing through the air. Grimmjow twisted away, but not fast enough. The blade cut deep into his side, blood splattering onto the ground. He roared in pain, retaliating with a ferocious swipe of his claws, severing the arm at the joint. But the Nimrod simply regenerated the limb, the metallic tendrils reforming into a new weapon.

"Damn it!" Grimmjow cursed, his breathing ragged. He was slowing down, his body battered and bruised, but he couldn't stop. This thing was a nightmare, and if he didn't finish it, it would finish him.

The shinigami and former Espada watching from the sidelines felt a collective unease. If humans could create something that could mimic Hollow abilities, what else were they capable of? Renji leaned toward Rukia, whispering, "This isn't just advanced 's in that thing, might be used against us in the future."

Grimmjow's movements became more erratic as the fight dragged on, his injuries piling up. Blood dripped from a gash on his forehead, blurring his vision, and his left arm hung uselessly at his side, likely sprained. His ribs ached with every breath, and he was certain one of his legs was broken. He couldn't keep this up much longer.

The Nimrod raised its arm, anotherCerocharging at its tip. Grimmjow snarled, baring his fangs. "No way in hell!" he roared, throwing himself forward. His claws tore into the Sentinel with reckless abandon, shredding its armor with a ferocity that bordered on desperation. Sparks flew as he hacked and slashed, refusing to stop even as his body screamed in protest.

Finally, the creature faltered, its movements jerky and uncoordinated. Grimmjow didn't let up, his claws ripping through the chest cavity, severing wires and tearing apart the twisted metal. The Sentinel collapsed to the ground, but Grimmjow didn't stop. He slammed his foot down on what remained of its head, firing a final blast of energy to obliterate it completely.

The battlefield was silent as the smoke cleared, revealing nothing but scraps of metal scattered across the ground. Grimmjow stood over the remains, his chest heaving, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. His vision swam, and he barely registered the cheers of the crowd before his knees buckled.

He collapsed face-first onto the ground, unconscious before he hit the dirt.

Unohana was already moving, her expression calm but urgent. Her assistants rushed forward with a stretcher, carefully lifting Grimmjow's battered body. Blood seeped from a stab wound in his abdomen, and his breathing was shallow. She placed a hand on his chest, her reiatsu flowing into him to stabilize his condition.

"This is bad," she said softly, her usual serene tone carrying a note of worry. "He has internal bleeding, a sprained arm, multiple broken ribs, and a fractured leg. He needs immediate attention."

As Grimmjow was carried off, the Shinigami exchanged uneasy glances. Captain Amagi's eyebrows narrowed as he muttered, "If humans can create something like that… what else are they capable of?"

Harilel crossed her arms, her golden eyes narrowing. "This wasn't just a machine. It was something far more dangerous. Ifthis Orchis group has the resources to create these… we need to find out what else they're hiding."

Nick Fury, watching from the sidelines, nodded grimly. "This just raised the stakes. Whatever Orchis is up to, it's bigger than we thought."

As Grimmjow was rushed away for treatment, the crowd remained silent, the weight of the battle sinking in. The former Espada and the Shinigami alike were left with a chilling realization: the lines between man, machine, and Hollow were blurring, and the consequences could be catastrophic.

…

The arena fell silent as the future version of Grizz stepped forward, his towering form exuding an aura of raw strength and determination. His furred musculature glistened in the dim light of the Savage Land's arena, the steady thud of his clawed feet against the ground punctuating the weight of the moment. For Grizz, this wasn't just a fight, it was personal. The Creed family had suffered under Victor's tyranny, and now he had a chance to take back their pride and prove their resilience.

Opposite him, Isca the Unbeaten walked into the arena with an unnerving calm. Her sleek, composed demeanor contrasted starkly with Grizz's primal presence. Dressed in armor that gleamed faintly with mystical etchings, she carried herself with the air of inevitability. The mutant warrior who could never lose, her mere presence commanded fear and respect. The shinigami observers from Soul Society, unaware of her reputation, exchanged puzzled glances.

"That's it?" Renji whispered to Ichigo. "She doesn't look like much compared to Grizz."

Logan, leaning against a pillar in the stands, grunted. "You'd think so," he said darkly. "But don't be fooled. Isca's ability isn't about how she fights, it's about the outcome. No matter how tough her opponent, she doesn't lose. Period."

Beside him, Jane nodded grimly. "In my world, the male counterpart of Isca was no different, he was a force of nature. She doesn't just beat you physically if she's anything like her counterpart. She finds a way to outmaneuver you, break your will, or turn the fight against you in ways you can't even see coming."

The Parker-Creed children, seated nearby, exchanged uneasy glances. Lycan cracked his knuckles, his yellow eyes narrowing. "So, she's unbeatable? What does that even mean?" he muttered, the skepticism clear in his tone.

"It means," Logan said, his voice low, "that Grizz better be ready for the fight of his life."

…

The arena was charged with tension as Grizz, the future version of Victoria and Peter's son, stood at one end, his towering frame casting an imposing shadow over the stone floor. His eight-foot-tall hybrid body, a combination of a grizzly bear's raw power and a honey badger's ferocity, radiated pure primal strength. His claws glinted in the light, the two extra between his knuckles adding an extra layer of menace. This wasn't just a fight for him; it was a chance to protect his family's legacy.

On the other side, Isca the Unbeaten stood with calm precision. Her sleek armor gleamed faintly, and her faint smirk seemed to challenge Grizz to try his best. For her, this was merely another step in an endless line of victories. She radiated confidence, her movements deliberate and calculated.

As the crowd hushed, Grizz's low growl rumbled through the arena. He didn't charge immediately, opting instead to circle her like a predator stalking its prey. His golden eyes locked on hers, watching for the slightest movement.

The fight began with a blur of motion as Grizz lunged, his claws slicing through the air with devastating force. Isca dodged with supernatural grace, her blade flashing as she countered with a series of precise strikes. Sparks flew as her weapon met his claws, her movements fluid and unyielding. Each strike was aimed with surgical precision, targeting his joints, tendons, and vital areas.

But Grizz wasn't just a brute. He was fast for his size, his strikes relentless and calculated. He swung with his claws, forcing Isca to leap back. As she dodged, he swiped at the ground, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air. It bought him a fraction of a second, just enough to close the distance.

With a thunderous roar, he brought both claws down, forcing Isca to block with her blade. The sheer power of the strike sent her skidding backward, her boots digging into the dirt. She straightened, unshaken but clearly assessing her next move.

From the stands, Logan frowned as he watched her movements. "Something's off," he muttered. "She's not just fighting to win, she's probing him."

Jane nodded beside him. "She's waiting for an opening. She always does."

Lycan growled, his claws flexing. "Grizz can handle her. She doesn't know who she's messing with."

…

Two hours later…

The fight continued, the arena shaking with the force of their blows. Isca landed several strikes, her blade cutting into Grizz's side and shoulder. Blood dripped onto the ground, but his healing factor closed the wounds almost as fast as they appeared. He smirked through the pain, his feral grin revealing sharp teeth.

"You'll have to do better than that," he growled, lunging again.

Isca sidestepped, her blade slicing into his ribs. This time, she twisted the weapon, forcing a pained snarl from him. But instead of retreating, he grabbed her arm, using his immense strength to fling her across the arena. She landed in a crouch, unphased but visibly impressed.

"You're stubborn," she remarked, standing and brushing off the dust. "But that will only take you so far."

Grizz didn't reply. Instead, he charged again, his claws slamming into the ground as he tried to pin her down. Isca danced around him, her blade flashing as she struck his legs and arms. Each hit was precise, aimed to weaken him. Yet, for every wound she inflicted, his healing factor nullified her efforts.

Then, she changed tactics.

Isca darted forward, faster than before, her movements a blur. Grizz tried to intercept her, but she feinted, slipping under his swing. Her blade flashed, slicing into his leg and forcing him to his knees. Before he could recover, she kicked off the ground, leaping onto his back. Her blade aimed for his neck—a critical blow that even his healing might struggle to counter.

But Grizz wasn't done yet.

With a feral roar, he twisted his massive body, throwing her off balance. He grabbed her mid-air, slamming her into the ground with enough force to crack the stone beneath them. Isca grunted, the first sign of strain crossing her face. She struggled, but his weight pinned her down, his claws poised to strike.

For a moment, victory seemed within his grasp.

And then it happened.

Isca's blade pierced through his gut, the weapon glowing faintly as it negated his healing factor. Grizz froze, his golden eyes wide with pain and shock. Blood poured from the wound as the blade pushed through his back, embedding itself into the ground.

Logan's eyes widened in recognition. "No," he growled, his fists clenching. "That sword…"

Jane's face paled. "It's the Muramasa Blade," she whispered. "How the hell does she have that?"

Grizz staggered, his massive frame trembling as the blade drained his strength. He let out a pained growl, his claws gripping the ground to steady himself. But even in his weakened state, he didn't let go of her. With a final, desperate surge of strength, he collapsed onto her, his immense weight crushing her beneath him.

The arena fell silent as the dust settled. Isca lay motionless, pinned beneath Grizz's massive form. The crowd held their breath, waiting for any sign of movement. Slowly, Grizz's head lifted, his bloodied muzzle curling into a faint, defiant grin.

"Unbeatable, huh?" he rasped, his voice weak but laced with satisfaction.

And then he collapsed, his body going limp as the blade's effects finally overwhelmed him.

…

Peter and Victoria rushed Grizz to the medical hut, their older children close behind, faces pale with worry. Grizz's immense frame lay sprawled on a makeshift stretcher, the sword embedded deep in his gut glinting ominously in the dim light. Every bump along the way elicited a pained groan from the massive warrior, though his sheer resilience kept him clinging to life.

Unohana moved with swift precision, her calm demeanor belied by the urgency in her movements. She directed her assistants to stabilize Grizz while she prepared the Seraphis symbiote—a luminous entity that hovered nearby, its radiant wings unfurling in a mesmerizing display of light and energy.

Peter stood just outside the hut, trembling, his arms wrapped protectively around Victoria. Her eyes never left Grizz, her hands clinging tightly to Peter's arms for strength. "He's strong," she whispered, more to herself than anyone else. "He's going to make it."

Inside, Unohana and her team worked tirelessly. "This is going to be delicate," she announced, her voice steady but baring a seriousness. "I need absolute silence while we extract the blade."

The symbiote, Seraphis, extended its trinity-based form, ethereal wings bathing the room in a soft, healing glow. The light seemed to wrap around Grizz, soothing his labored breaths and steadying his pulse. His clawed fingers dug into the thatch bedding beneath him, knuckles whitening as the pain surged through his massive body.

Victoria knelt beside him, her hand gently stroking his furred arm. "Stay with us, Grizz," she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. "You've fought harder battles. Don't give up now."

Peter entered the hut, his steps hesitant, his usual confidence shaken. He knelt beside Victoria, one hand on her shoulder, the other brushing against Grizz's massive paw. "You've got this, big guy," Peter whispered, his voice cracking. "Just hold on."

Unohana nodded at her assistants, signaling that it was time. With the utmost care, they began to pull the blade free. The Seraphis symbiote's light intensified, its soothing energy counteracting the blade's malicious effects. Grizz growled low, his claws gouging the bedding as the pain reached an agonizing peak.

Peter clenched his fists, his body trembling as he watched. Victoria buried her face in his chest, unable to bear the sight. The older children stood at the hut's entrance, their faces a mixture of fear and hope.

Finally, with one last, careful pull, the blade came free. Unohana quickly sealed the wound with a combination of her healing abilities and the symbiote's light. The room was silent save for Grizz's labored breathing, each exhale a testament to his unyielding will to survive.

"He's stable," Unohana announced, wiping her brow. "But he'll need timein the Seraphis symbiotes light to recover fully. "

Peter let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He pulled Victoria into a tight embrace, tears streaming down his face. "He's going to be okay," he murmured, more to reassure himself than anyone else.

Grizz's clawed hand weakly reached out, finding Victoria's. His lips curled into a faint smile. "Told you… unbeatable," he rasped before his eyes fluttered shut, surrendering to much-needed rest.

The family gathered around, the weight of the moment sinking in. inside the hut, the Seraphis symbiote hovered over Grizz fixing the healing factor that had been obliterated by the sword's deadly effects.

…

Peter sat quietly beside Grizz, his hand resting on the massive hybrid's paw. The Seraphis symbiote continued its work, bathing the room in an otherworldly glow as it repaired the damage done to Grizz's body and healing factor. Despite Unohana's assurance that Grizz would recover, Peter couldn't bring himself to leave just yet. His family had been through so much, and now, with the final fight against Victor Creed looming, he felt the weight of everything pressing down on him.

Victoria sat beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. Her other hand stroked Grizz's arm, the fur matted with dried blood. Peter placed his arm around her, drawing her close. "We'll make it through this," he whispered, though he wasn't entirely sure who he was trying to convince, her or himself.

The rest of the children lingered nearby, their expressions subdued. Theron, Jarek, and Ferra stood at the doorway, whispering quietly, while Lycan paced anxiously outside. Even the youngest, Orion and Baby Grizz, who was playing with a wooden toy so filled with usual energy were now dulled by the gravity of the situation.

Peter glanced at them, his heart aching. This moment was supposed to be a reunion, a chance to rebuild their family, but instead, they were thrown into chaos once again. He knew he should be preparing for the fight with Victor, but how could he focus on that when his family needed him here?

…

In another corner of the settlement, Ichigo, Renji, Starrk, and Grimmjow stood in a dimly lit tent, reviewing a collection of files provided by Nick Fury. Lillinette peeked over Starrk's shoulder, her eyes wide as she scanned the reports.

"This guy, Victor Creed, is an animal, plane and simple. ," Ichigo muttered, flipping through the pages. The files were filled with images and accounts of Victor's violent history—brutality, chaos, and a complete disregard for life. "And he's supposed to be a variant of Victoria?"

"Yeah," Renji said, crossing his arms. "But they're like night and day. Victoria's fighting for her family, for something bigger than herself. This guy? He's all about destruction."

Starrk nodded, his expression unusually serious. "It's eerie. You'd expect some similarities between variants, but she's proven herself to be different. Maybe it's her family that keeps her grounded."

Grimmjow, leaning against a table with his arms crossed, snorted. His bandages were fresh, and his expression was tense. "He's just another brute who thinks he can throw his weight around. Typical." But his bravado was undercut by a flash of unease in his eyes as he glanced at the files. "Still, this guy's got history. Orchis, the Savage Lands, now this arena… he doesn't stop."

Nick Fury's holographic image flickered nearby, speaking with Peter-Knull. "We've gone over what we know about Orchis's recent moves. The Nimrod sentinal's ability to mimic Grimmjow's powers? We're in the dark on that one. But the fact they've been tampering with something that can absorb and replicate abilities means they've got some serious backing."

Ichigo leaned forward. "Backing like what?"

Fury's expression hardened. "We've got reports of a symbiote shaman—Shaman-Knull, they call him. He's dangerous. Capable of creating bifrosts and traveling across realities. If what we're seeing here is true, he's likely involved. There's even speculation he's working with a shinigami named Aizen."

The room fell silent.

Grimmjow's lip curled, and hisfingers tapped against the table. "Aizen? That bastard's name keeps coming up."

Fury nodded grimly. "If they've been selling their tech and knowledge between this reality and the other… it's worse than we thought. The Nimrod wasn't just a coincidence. This was deliberate."

Lillinette shivered, stepping closer to Starrk. "So they're working together? The shaman, Aizen, and now Orchis? What do they want?"

Fury crossed his arms. "Control. Power. And if they've set their sights on the Savage Lands, and possibly other realities in this multiverse. It's not just about Victor Creed anymore. This place and others have resources, unique flora and fauna, and connections to realities most of us can't even fathom."

Grimmjow clenched his fists, wincing slightly at the strain on his still-healing body. "Then it's simple. We beat Creed, get Peter's family back in control, and shut this whole operation down."

…

Back at the medical hut, the Seraphis symbiote's wings began to dim as it finished stabilizing Grizz's condition. Victoria's hand never left his, her silent vigil unbroken. Peter, still trembling with the weight of the coming battle, leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"I have to go," he said softly. "But I'll be back. I promise."

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with both worry and understanding. "I know you will."

Peter stood, taking one last look at Grizz. He reached out, placing a hand on his son's shoulder. "Stay strong, buddy," he murmured. "We're going to fix this."

As he stepped outside, his resolve hardened. The final fight loomed, but this wasn't just about winning a battle. It was about reclaiming their home, their family, and their future. Peter clenched his fists, his gaze steeling.

Victor Creed wouldn't know what hit him.

…

The air in the arena was electric, a tangible hum of anticipation coursing through the crowd as Peter-Knull, clad in his dark, imposing form, approached Savage Lands Peter. His counterpart turned, their eyes meeting in a silent exchange of respect and determination. With an almost reverent gesture, Peter-Knull extended the spear to his alternate self, its obsidian and bone edges gleaming with an eerie precision that whispered of its deadly potential.

"I've done what I can," Peter-Knull said, his voice low but steady. "Sharpened to one atom on the edge. It'll cut through anything, even Victor Creed's hide—if you land the blow. Use it well."

Savage Lands Peter took the weapon, his grip tightening as he felt its balance, the weight perfectly attuned to his hand. He gave Peter-Knull a firm nod of gratitude, the silence between them speaking volumes. Then, turning toward the arena, he inhaled deeply, centering himself for what was to come.

As he stepped into the open arena, a hush fell over the assembled crowd. The stillness was unnerving, but Peter knew it was the calm before the storm. He planted his feet firmly, the spear resting at his side, as he scanned the faces of those gathered to witness the moment. From the youngest children to the oldest elders, their eyes were fixed on him, their hopes pinned to his success.

Then, like a pulse of thunder, the first tap of a spear echoed through the silence. A single guard struck the stone platform, the sound reverberating with a deep, resonant rhythm. Another joined in, then another, the beat spreading like wildfire. Soon, the entire arena was filled with the rhythmic clatter of spears against stone, a unifying cadence that roared through the settlement and beyond.

"HUGH!" The guards chanted in time with the taps, their voices a deep, primal call that sent shivers down Peter's spine. Above the crowd, those perched on higher platforms joined in, their spears echoing the same unwavering beat. The sound spread outward, rolling like a wave over the settlement until it seemed the entire Savage Lands had taken up the cry.

Logan and Jane exchanged glances, their expressions unreadable. They had seen this before, a leader rising from the ashes to become a symbol for his people. But this time, there was something raw, something visceral about the way these people rallied behind Peter. He wasn't just a symbol; he was hope incarnate.

"It's his fight now," Logan muttered, his voice laced with both admiration and concern.

The rhythmic chant only ceased when Victor Creed entered the arena. His towering form exuded menace, and though the crowd quieted, their defiance wasapparent.

Victor's grin widened as he surveyed the scene. He could feel the weight of their loyalty to Peter, and it only fueled his amusement.

"Well, well," Creed drawled, his tone mocking but laced with genuine intrigue. "Didn't think I'd see the day Spider-Man became a god to these flesh-bags. Gotta admit, it's impressive."

Peter's grip tightened on his spear, but he held his ground, refusing to rise to the bait. He met Creed's gaze, unflinching, his every muscle coiled and ready.

The countdown began, each number echoing through the arena like a drumbeat of destiny. The spectators held their breath, the air thick with tension.

"Three…"

Peter steadied his breathing, his focus narrowing to a single point: Victor Creed.

"Two…"

Creed shifted his stance, his claws flexing as he prepared to lunge.

"One…"

Logan, Jane, their families, Laura, Laurent, the Dakens, and every one of Peter's children leaned forward, their hearts pounding in unison. They knew what was at stake. They knew Victor Creed was no ordinary opponent.

"Fight!"

The silence shattered as the two warriors charged, their battle cries colliding in a thunderous roar that shook the very ground beneath them.

The arena erupted into chaos as the clash of two titans began. Savage Lands Peter wasted no time, launching himself into the fray with a burst of acrobatics that only Spider-Man could achieve. Victor Creed snarled, his claws slashing through the air, but Peter's movements were fluid, his reflexes honed to perfection. He ducked low, the sharp edge of his spear glinting as he spun and slashed at Creed's side, the bone and obsidian weapon carving through flesh and muscle effortlessly.

Creed roared in pain, spinning on his heel to swipe at Peter, but his claws met only air as Peter somersaulted backward. His spider-sense flared, a warning just as Creed's massive fist came down where Peter had been standing a millisecond earlier, shattering the stone beneath them.

Peter fired a webline mid-flip, attaching it to a pillar to swing over Creed's head. The move bought him a moment to breathe, but Creed was already on him, leaping into the air with shocking speed. Peter twisted in mid-swing, narrowly avoiding the outstretched claws, and flipped backward, landing lightly on his feet.

Victor skidded to a halt, blood dripping from the deep gash along his ribs. He growled, his eyes locked on Peter. "You've got moves, Spider, but that spear of yours… What the hell is in that thing?!"

Peter didn't answer. He lunged forward, spinning his spear in a tight arc. Creed dodged, but not fast enough; the blade sliced cleanly through his forearm, cutting muscle and bone with surgical precision. Creed staggered, looking down at the clean, almost unnatural cut. His grin faltered for a split second.

This wasn't just any fight. This was survival.

Victor launched himself at Peter again, his claws extended wide. Peter's spider-sense screamed, and he leapt straight up, flipping over Creed's massive form. As he passed over, he slashed the spear downward, the sharp edge carving a deep gash along Creed's back.

Creed roared in fury, spinning around to strike, but Peter was already gone, vaulting onto the side of the arena wall and sticking there. "You're slow for someone so big," Peter quipped, firing a webline at Creed's face. The sticky threads covered Creed's eyes, momentarily blinding him.

Snarling, Creed ripped the webbing from his face, but it was too late. Peter was already on him again, driving the spear forward with incredible precision. The tip of the spear punched through Creed's ribcage, the sharpness so extreme that it sliced two ribs clean in half. Creed staggered, gasping, but Peter yanked the spear back before he could retaliate.

"You're getting sloppy, Creed," Peter said, flipping backward to put distance between them. "Or is it the spear? Maybe it's sharper than you thought."

Creed wiped the blood from his mouth, grinning through the pain. "You think you've got me figured out, Spider? Think again."

He lunged with incredible speed, his claws swiping in rapid succession. Peter ducked, rolled, and flipped, the razor-sharp claws missing him by millimeters. His spider-sense blared with each near miss, the instinctual warning keeping him one step ahead of Creed's relentless assault.

As Creed overextended, Peter took the opening. He darted to Creed's side, driving the spear deep into his thigh before twisting it and pulling it free. Blood sprayed, and Creed howled in pain, but he spun with surprising agility, his claws raking toward Peter's chest. Peter leaned back, the claws grazing his suit but not piercing it.

Creed lunged again, but Peter fired another webline, this time at Creed's foot. With a sharp tug, he yanked Creed off balance, sending the larger man crashing face-first into the arena wall. Peter followed up immediately, leaping onto Creed's back and jabbing the spear into his shoulder.

The crowd roared as Creed roared louder, slamming his back against the wall to shake Peter off. Peter managed to leap away just in time, landing in a crouch several feet away. Creed turned to face him, blood dripping from multiple wounds, his chest heaving.

"What the hell are you made of, Parker?!" Creed growled, clutching his side where the spear had sliced through his ribs earlier.

"Just good ol' determination," Peter shot back, spinning the spear in his hands. "And maybe a little bit of stubbornness."

Creed charged again, his claws glinting in the sunlight. Peter sidestepped at the last second, planting the spear against the ground and letting Creed's momentum drive him forward. The sharp edge sliced into Creed's side, leaving another deep gash as he barreled past.

"Damn it!" Creed snarled, clutching his side as he spun around. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't just angry now—he was impressed. "You're not the weakling I thought you'd be."

"And you're not as scary as you think," Peter replied, firing another webline. This time, it caught Creed's arm, yanking him off balance. Peter leapt forward, landing a powerful kick to Creed's chest that sent him stumbling backward.

But Creed wasn't down yet. With a roar, he lunged one final time, his claws slashing wildly. Peter dodged and ducked, his spear flashing as he struck again and again. Each cut was precise, each strike calculated to weaken Creed further. Blood poured from the wounds, but Creed kept coming, his sheer determination matching Peter's.

Finally, as Creed lunged again, Peter leapt high into the air, flipping over him and driving the spear downward. The sharp tip pierced Creed's shoulder, pinning him to the ground. Creed howled, thrashing wildly, but Peter held his ground, pressing the spear deeper.

Victor Creed roared in frustration, his massive hands slamming against the spear pinning him to the ground. With a sickening crack, the spear shattered, shards of bone and obsidian scattering across the arena floor. Before Peter could react, Creed lunged forward, his claws catching him by the throat and lifting him clean off the ground.

The crowd gasped in horror, the cheers and rhythmic chants of earlier silenced in an instant. Creed's grip tightened, his claws digging into Peter's neck as his sadistic grin returned. "You've got some serious guts, Spider-Man," Creed growled, his voice low and dripping with malice. "But I win this one."

Peter's spider-sense screamed, but there was nothing he could do as Creed drove his claws under Peter's ribcage. With a horrifying motion, Creed hooked his claws into Peter's flesh and held him aloft like a trophy. Peter's body jerked, the pain shooting through him in waves, but he didn't scream. He grunted, his teeth clenched, his eyes glaring down at Creed with defiance.

"You don't quit, do you?" Creed chuckled darkly, shaking Peter slightly to make his point. "But it's over, Parker. You've fought well, I'll give you that… but not well enough."

In the stands, Logan and Jane tensed, their instincts screaming at them to intervene. Logan's hands balled into fists, his claws sliding out reflexively. "Damn it, kid," he growled under his breath, the sight of Creed holding Peter like that triggering every protective instinct he had. "I can't watch this."

"Don't even think about it," Jane said, her voice tight with anger and fear. "If you jump down there, the fight is forfeit, and Victor wins. Peter wouldn't want that."

Logan snarled, his muscles coiling as he prepared to leap down anyway. But before he could move, Peter acted.

Hanging by Creed's claws, Peter's free hand shot out, grabbing Creed's head and pulling him closer. "Not… over yet," Peter hissed through gritted teeth. His other hand, slick with blood, fired a webline at the shattered tip of his spear lying nearby. With a sharp tug, the broken blade flew into his hand.

Creed's grin faltered. "What are you—"

Before he could finish, Peter drove the broken spear tip into Creed's head with all the strength he had left. The sharpened bone and obsidian pierced through Victor's skull with a sickening crunch, the tip emerging clean out the other side. Creed's eyes widened in shock, his grip on Peter loosening as he stumbled backward.

The crowd erupted into chaos, a mix of gasps, shouts, and stunned silence as Creed swayed, blood pouring from the wound in his head. But even as his life drained away, he snarled, defiant to the end. With a final burst of strength, he reached up, grabbed one of Peter's ribs that his claws were still hooked under, and ripped it free with a sickening sound.

Peter fell to the ground, clutching his side and gasping for air as Creed staggered, his massive frame looming over him. "You…" Creed rasped, blood bubbling at his lips. "You're… something else…"

And then, with a final, guttural growl, Creed collapsed to the ground, the broken spear tip still lodged in his skull. Dust settled over the arena as the crowd stood frozen, unable to comprehend what they had just witnessed.

Peter struggled to his knees, blood dripping from the deep wound in his side. His hand pressed against the gaping hole where Creed had ripped out the rib, his breathing labored but steady. He glanced over at Creed's lifeless body, his expression a mix of exhaustion and grim satisfaction.

Logan and Jane exhaled in relief, their tense postures relaxing as they watched Peter stand his ground. "That kid…" Logan muttered, shaking his head. "He just doesn't quit."

But then Peter wavered, his knees buckling slightly. His hand, still pressed tightly to his side, trembled as his grip loosened. Suddenly, he bent over and vomited a stream of blood onto the arena floor, his body jerking violently. The cheers of the crowd faltered, replaced by gasps of concern and murmurs of confusion.

"Peter!" Victoria's voice broke through the noise, panic etched into every syllable.

Logan didn't waste a second. "Damn it!" he snarled, leaping from the stands. Peter-Knull was right behind him, his black armor glinting in the sunlight as he landed with a heavy thud. Lycan followed without hesitation, his predatory instincts kicking in as he landed beside his father and Logan.

Peter-Knull reached Peter first, kneeling beside him and pulling his hand away from the wound. His face darkened as he took in the sight—blood was oozing from the gaping gash in Peter's side, far more than before. The ripped flesh around the hole where Creed had torn out a rib was ragged and raw, and Peter's suit was soaked with crimson.

"He's losing too much blood!" Peter-Knull snapped, his voice sharp as he pressed his hands to the wound, attempting to slow the bleeding. The obsidian-like veins of his symbiote pulsed, trying to stabilize Peter's erratic vitals.

Lycan crouched on the other side, his sharp eyes scanning Peter's pale face. "He doesn't look good," he growled, his voice tinged with fear. "Dad, what do we do?"

Logan was already on it, his years of experience in battlefield injuries kicking in. He ripped a piece of fabric from his own shirt, wrapping it tightly around Peter's torso to apply pressure to the wound. "This isn't stopping," Logan muttered, his voice grim. "That son of a—he ripped a damn rib clean out. He tore through everything: arteries, muscle, even bone."

Peter-Knull cursed under his breath. "I can stabilize him temporarily, but we need Unohana, now, and bring the rib with us! I can put it bac in to help the healing!"

Peter's eyes fluttered open, unfocused and glassy. His breath came in shallow gasps, each one weaker than the last. "M'fine…" he slurred, his voice barely audible.

"Fine, my ass!" Logan barked, his voice rough with worry. "You've got a hole in your side the size of my fist, Parker. Don't you dare pass out on us!"

Peter-Knull's hands glowed faintly as his symbiote extended into the wound, attempting to slow the internal bleeding. "Lycan, get Unohana!" he ordered, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lycan hesitated for a split second, his instincts screaming to stay by his father's side, but he nodded and bolted toward the medical team at the edge of the arena. "I'm on it!" he shouted over his shoulder.

Peter-Knull leaned closer to Peter, his voice softening. "Stay with me, Savage. You've done the impossible already. Just hang on a little longer."

Peter blinked up at him, his lips curling into a faint, bloody smile. "Guess I… finally impressed you, huh?" he rasped, his voice weak but laced with his trademark humor.

Peter-Knull chuckled darkly, shaking his head. "Don't push your luck."

Logan kept applying pressure, his claws retracted but his hands shaking slightly. "Don't you go making this harder than it already is, kid," he growled, his voice thick. "You've got too many people counting on you."

Meanwhile, Lycan returned with Unohana and her assistants in tow, the healer's calm demeanor a stark contrast to the chaos around her.

Unohana knelt beside Peter, her sharp eyes assessing the damage in an instant. "Move back," she instructed firmly but gently, her hands glowing with healing energy. Logan and Peter-Knull stepped aside, though their worry was etched into every line of their faces.

"This is going to hurt," Unohana warned, directing her assistants to prepare more advanced equipment. She glanced up at Peter, her expression unreadable. "But you're strong. I'll make sure you pull through."

Peter groaned softly, his head lolling to the side as his body began to shut down from the blood loss. Logan gritted his teeth, his fists clenched as he watched helplessly. Peter-Knull placed a hand on Logan's shoulder, his grip firm. "He's not going anywhere," Knull said, his voice steady. "Not if I have anything to say about it."

As Unohana began her work, Victoria finally reached Peter's side, falling to her knees and grabbing his hand. "Stay with us," she whispered, tears streaming down her face. "You promised, Peter. You promised."

The arena was silent save for the sound of Unohana's healing spells and Peter's labored breathing. The crowd watched with bated breath, their hope resting on the Spider-Man who had defied all odds, yet again.

…

The aftermath of the fight left the spectators, both human and spiritual, utterly stunned. The arena buzzed with uneasy murmurs as the reality of what they had just witnessed began to sink in. Rukia, Ichigo, and the others stood in silent disbelief, their eyes fixed on the medical tent where Peter had been rushed moments ago.

Ichigo clenched his fists, his jaw tight. "He had a ribripped out," he muttered, his voice tinged with both anger and respect. "And he kept fighting like it was nothing... What kind of guy does that?"

Rukia's hands were trembling as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "That wasn't just fighting," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "That was survival… pure, raw survival. I've seen battles in Soul Society, but nothing like this. If Unohana wasn't here, if that Seraphis symbiote wasn't here, he'd be gone."

Renji shook his head, his usually confident demeanor replaced with unease. "I've seen some insane things, but watching someone's rib getripped outlike that… and then he just…kept going? That's not human." He cast a glance at Ichigo. "You think you could've done that?"

Ichigo didn't answer immediately, his gaze fixed on the tent. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know," he admitted. "I don't think any of us could have done what he just did."

Nearby, Mila-Rose was pacing, her claws flexing and unflexing as she processed what she had seen. "That… that wasn't just a fight," she said, her voice unusually quiet. "That was aslaughter. And he still found a way to win. Did you see how Creed just ripped that rib out like it was nothing?!" She stopped, her wild eyes scanning the faces of her companions. "I've fought hollows. I've seen death up close. But that was something else. That was... monstrous."

Starrk leaned against a pillar, his usually detached expression replaced with something bordering on respect. "And yet, he's still alive," he murmured, almost to himself. "That spider's tougher than he looks."

Lilynette, Starrk's counterpart, was far less composed. She crossed her arms and stomped her foot. "How is he even alive?!" she shouted. "That guy should've bled out! His rib was dangling for crying out loud!"

Unohana's earlier calm words replayed in their minds as the reality of the situation hit home. If not for her healing abilities and the Seraphis symbiote's miraculous intervention, Peter would be dead. It was a sobering thought that left even the most hardened fighters unsettled.

Matsumoto, who had been silent until now, finally spoke up. "That symbiote… it's incredible," she said, her voice low. "But still, it's a miracle he survived long enough for Unohana to even use it. I've never seen anyone fight like that while bleeding out."

Meanwhile, Grimmjow, his own wounds barely healed, was leaning against a wall, his sharp grin gone. "Tch," he scoffed, but there was no real venom in it. "That Parker… he's crazy, no doubt about it. But damn if he doesn't have guts. Literally and figuratively."

Renji shot Grimmjow a glare. "Yeah, well, you'd probably be dead if that was you," he said bluntly.

Grimmjow's eyes flashed, but he didn't argue. "Maybe. But that fight? That was beyond anything I've ever seen. Creed ripping a rib out like he was tearing paper? And that spider bastard just kept moving. That's not bravery, that's pure insanity."

From the shadows, Byakuya Kuchiki watched silently, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke, his voice cold but contemplative. "It's not insanity. It's resolve," he said. "Few warriors possess the strength to endure such pain while still remaining focused on the fight. Even fewer can turn that pain into victory."

Mila-Rose turned to Byakuya, her eyebrows raised. "So what, you think he's some kind of war hero now?"

Byakuya didn't answer directly. "He fought for his people," he said simply. "That is all."

The Shinigami weren't the only ones shaken. Chad stood silently, his large frame tense as he replayed the scene in his mind. "I've fought hollows, Arrancars, … but I've never seen anything like that. It's… humbling."

Orihime's hands were clasped tightly over her chest, her eyes brimming with tears. "He's so brave," she whispered. "To keep going after… afterthat. It's…"

"It's stupid," Uryu interrupted, his sharp tone cutting through her words. "He should've stayed down. If he'd died, what good would any of it have done? Sacrificing himself would've been pointless."

Ichigo shot him a glare. "You think he didn't know that?" he snapped. "You think he wanted to die?"

Uryu adjusted his glasses, avoiding Ichigo's gaze. He didn't reply, but his silence spoke volumes as he realized that he may have been too hasty.

As the group's conversation trailed off, Logan entered the arena's viewing platform, his face grim. "He's stable," he growled, cutting through the tension like a knife. "But barely. That rib Creed ripped out? Unohana had to put it back in. And without that Seraphis thing, he wouldn't have made it."

Rukia's eyes widened. "She put his rib…back in?"

"Yeah," Logan confirmed. "And don't ask me how it worked. All I know is, Peter's one tough son of a bitch."

Ichigo nodded, a newfound respect in his eyes. "Yeah. He is."

As the group processed Logan's words, the tension shifted. They had just witnessed the near-impossible, and Peter had come out alive. But the fight had also been a sobering reminder of the stakes. If Victor Creed was willing to go that far, what else were they up against? And how much more could Peter take?

…

The air in the Savage Lands settlement was heavy with exhaustion and quiet triumph. Savage Lands Peter, now officially restored as king, lay propped up on a makeshift throne in one of the larger communal huts. His body was still sore despite the miraculous healing from Unohana and the Seraphis symbiote, but his mind was sharp. Around him, his family and allies sat in various states of physical and emotional fatigue, their eyes reflecting the chaos they had endured.

Victoria knelt by his side, her hand resting protectively on his. "You did it," she murmured softly. "The Savage Lands are ours again. You've given them hope, Peter."

Peter offered her a weak smile, his usual lighthearted quips replaced by a quiet gratitude. "We did it," he corrected, his voice still hoarse. "I couldn't have done this alone."

Logan leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed, his sharp eyes scanning the room. "That fight wasn't just brutal, it was a damn bloodbath," he muttered. "Can't believe you're still breathing after that rib stunt."

Peter let out a dry chuckle, rubbing his side where the Seraphis symbiote had worked its magic. "Yeah, well… I like breathing. Figured I'd keep doing it."

Jane smirked from her seat nearby, but her expression betrayed her exhaustion. "You've got guts, Spider. Literally and figuratively."

Grizz, now fully recovered, stood near the doorway, his massive frame taking up most of the space. He looked around the room, his sharp eyes lingering on his family and allies. "We're all still here," he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. "That's what matters."

Grimmjow, sitting cross-legged on the floor, let out a scoff. "Barely," he muttered. "That fight with that hollowfied Nimrod… It was like staring death in the face, except it was a hollow mask in this case."

The room fell silent at his words. The weight of what had transpired settled over them once again.

The flickering light of Mayuri's improvised lab illuminated the remnants of the Nimrod Sentinel. Shards of its hollowfied armor lay on the tables, each piece carefully arranged and studied under glowing instruments. Mayuri's unsettling grin was nowhere to be seen; instead, his expression was grim, his golden eyes reflecting a rare seriousness.

As Peter, Grimmjow, Grizz, and the others entered the lab, they were greeted by the sight of Mayuri hunched over a console, his fingers flying over the keys. He didn't look up as he spoke, his voice sharp and direct.

"Ah, finally," Mayuri began, not bothering with pleasantries. "I've been examining the fragments Grimmjow so graciously left behind, and I've discovered something… disturbing."

Peter exchanged a wary glance with Victoria before stepping forward. "Disturbing how?"

Mayuri straightened and turned to face them, his fingers steepled in front of his mouth. "According to the data I've collected, the Nimrod Sentinel didn't simplyhollowfy. It was evolving."

Grimmjow narrowed his eyes, his fists clenching instinctively. "Evolving into what?"

Mayuri's eyes gleamed with an almost morbid fascination. He pointed directly at Grimmjow. "Into you."

The room went deathly silent.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Grimmjow growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Mayuri gestured to the holographic display behind him, which showed a detailed analysis of the Nimrod's structure. "When the Nimrod hollowfied, it began incorporating your DNA, likely from the spiritual energy you left behind during the fight. Given enough time, it would have fully replicated not just your abilities but also elements of yourpersonality. It wasn't just becoming a hollow; it was becomingyou."

Grimmjow's expression darkened, his sharp grin gone. "You're saying that thing could've turned into some kind of… clone?"

"Not just a clone," Mayuri corrected. "An enhanced version of you. The Nimrod's programming would have combined your genetic traits with its own adaptive capabilities. It would have been you, but more precise, more dangerous, and completely devoid of your free will."

The room fell into a heavy silence as Mayuri's words sunk in. Grimmjow stared at the shredded remnants of the Nimrod Sentinel laid out before them, his usual smug demeanor replaced with a grim seriousness. The implications were undeniable, and the weight of it all was suffocating.

Grimmjow broke the silence, his voice low and uncharacteristically subdued. "An enhanced version of me, without my will, huh? Sounds like a nightmare. If they're trading tech and pulling stunts like this, what's stopping them from doing it to all of us? To anyone?"

Mayuri adjusted his ornate headpiece, his golden eyes gleaming with both curiosity and unease. "Precisely. The technology that allowed this Sentinel to adapt so drastically is beyond anything this multiverse should be capable of on its own. We've suspected the Knulls and Aizen of trading technology and resources between dimensions, but this confirms it on a terrifying scale."

He turned, pointing a spindly finger at Peter-Knull, who leaned against the far wall with a pensive expression. "Our houses secrets that the Knulls are clearly using to destabilize this one. This Nimrod wasn't just an experiment; it was a proof of concept. If perfected, they could mass-produce an army of Arrancar-infused Nimrods, or worse."

Rukia's face paled as she exchanged a glance with Ichigo. "Mass-producing those things? With hollow powers?" she asked, her voice trembling. "How could anyone stop something like that?"

Ichigo's fists clenched tightly, his knuckles turning white. "They wouldn't just stop at hollow powers, would they?" he said, his tone hard. "If they've got their hands on tech from another dimension, they could combine it with any power they get their hands on, Quincy, Shinigami, Bankai, anything and everything from our reality…"

Renji crossed his arms, his expression darkening. "And they don't even need to experiment anymore. They've already proven it works."

Beside them, Mila-Rose, Apacci, and Sung-Sun exchanged uneasy looks. Mila-Rose's eyes were fixed on Grimmjow, her voice cutting through the tension. "I saw that thingtake on you of all of the arrancar, your one of the toughest ones. If it could do that to him, I don't even wanna imagine what it'd do to anyone else."

Her words caused a ripple of discomfort through the room. Even the Shinigami, hardened by years of battle, were visibly disturbed. Several of them glanced toward Grimmjow who remembered the hours long battle and all the firepower it took to bring that thing down, was still fresh in everyone's minds.

Peter-Knull stepped forward, his voice cutting through the grim atmosphere. "We can't let them get any further with this. Whatever Aizen and the Knulls are planning, they're building toward something massive. If this Sentinel was just the start, then the next step will be even worse."

Victoria looked up at him, her voice steady despite the fear in her eyes. "What do we do? We've barely had time to catch our breath, and now we're talking about an army of these things. We need a plan."

Mayuri's lips curled into a faint, unsettling smile. "Oh, there's always a plan, my dear. The question is whether it's feasible given the current resources." He gestured to the scraps of the Nimrod with an almost casual air. "I'll be taking these back to my lab for further analysis. If I can figure out how this thing was programmed to hollowfy, perhaps we can find a way to counter it, or better yet, turn it against them."

Peter-Knull nodded, his gaze sharp. "Do it. Whatever you need, you'll have it."

…

Grimmjow lounged in the corner of Starrk and Lilynette's bustling bar-restaurant, the scent of sizzling meats and spiced vegetables filling the air. The place was a strange mix of nostalgia and new beginnings, a haven for former Espada, Hollows, and Arrancar who had fled Hueco Mundo. The chatter of patrons was lively, but beneath it lingered an unspoken tension. The memory of the Nimrod Sentinel still gnawed at many of them.

Across the room, Dordoni Alessandro Del Socaccio was in animated conversation with Gantenbainne Mosqueda. Their laughter mingled with the steady rhythm of symbiotic rock music humming through the space. Cirucci Sanderwicci sat at the bar, casually leaning against Inferno-Strike, the lead guitarist of the symbiotic band that had been assigned to her. The pair looked oddly perfect together, their contrasting energies complementing one another.

At a nearby table, Menoly Mallia and Nathaniel, the Sym-Elf, shared a quiet moment, the glow of affection evident between them. At another, Loly Aivirrne sat beside Grym-Axe, the Sym-Orc, whose boisterous laugh shook the table. The sight of the stoic, scarred orc gently teasing Loly was almost surreal, but no one dared question it.

Lady Deadpool, Wanda Wilson, was perched at the end of the bar, devouring a plate stacked high with chimichangas, burritos, and a symbiotic twist on nachos that had become a local favorite. She washed it all down with a bubbling bottle of the Grey-Sym Cola, a dark, shimmering beverage that had taken Soul Society by storm. The retro bottle clinked against her rings as she downed it with relish, crumbs from her meal scattered across the table. Beside her, her Peter variant looked on with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

"Popcorn that tastes like berries?" Wanda mumbled through a mouthful. "Why didn't I discover this stuff sooner? Peter, you're hoarding this next time."

Peter-Knull, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, smirked. "Sure, Wanda. I'll keep an entire truckload stockpiled for your midnight cravings."

Grimmjow's sharp eyes tracked the swirling movement of souls and symbiotic energy. The former Espada's grin faded as his thoughts circled back to Mayuri's chilling revelation. The idea that the Nimrod could have become a hollow version of himself was more disturbing than he cared to admit.

Starrk approached, carrying two glasses of the Grey-Sym Cola. He set one in front of Grimmjow before sitting across from him. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Grimmjow snorted, taking a swig of the fizzy drink. "You heard what Mayuri said. That thing wasn't just copying me. It was becoming me."

Starrk leaned back, his gaze thoughtful. "Yeah, it's unsettling. But if anyone's tough enough to fight themselves, it's you."

Grimmjow shot him a glare. "Not funny, Starrk. This isn't just about me. If they can do it to one of us, they can do it to anyone."

"True," Starrk admitted. "But it's also why we're building this place. Seireitei-2, -3, and -4 aren't just for the influx of souls. It's a fortress. A sanctuary. If the Knulls and Aizen bring this war here, we'll be ready."

Wanda Wilson raised her bottle in a mock toast. "Here's to rebuilding cities, kicking ass, and eating chimichangas."

The room erupted in laughter, the tension easing slightly as the former Arrancar and their allies embraced the fleeting moment of peace. But in the back of everyone's mind, the looming threat of Aizen and the Knulls lingered like a shadow.

For now, they would enjoy what they had built. Tomorrow, they would prepare for the battles to come.

…

Later that night, with Muramasa and Peter-Knull…

The air in the holding chamber was heavy, suffused with an oppressive mix of tension and unspoken words. Muramasa stood in the dimly lit room, his ethereal form appearing resolute yet uneasy. He had waited centuries for this moment, to see his master again, to mend the rift that had shattered their bond and left him wandering the void of despair. And yet, as the steel bars separating him from Koga Kuchiki loomed ahead, the weight of dread coiled tightly around him.

Peter-Knull's voice lingered in Muramasa's mind from their earlier conversation:"If you wish to free Koga, then you must understand who he truly is. Not who you thought he was, but the man he's become. This won't be easy, Muramasa, but you need to see it for yourself."

Koga sat on the edge of a stone bench, bound by the restraints of kido. His once-regal presence was now marred by a sharp, biting bitterness etched into every feature of his face. His reiatsu, though restrained, still carried an unmistakable edge of malevolence, a volatile mix of arrogance and contempt. He barely acknowledged Muramasa's presence, his sharp eyes locked on the floor as if the sight of his former zanpakuto spirit was beneath him.

Jean Grey and Logan stood off to the side, having accompanied Muramasa at Peter-Knull's request to bear witness. Jean's face was calm but tinged with sadness, her empathic senses already picking up on the waves of anger and disdain rolling off Koga. Logan, arms crossed and his grizzled face set in a scowl, leaned against the wall, clearly unimpressed with Koga's demeanor before the man even spoke.

Muramasa stepped forward, his voice soft yet steady. "Master... it's been a long time."

Koga's eyes flicked up to him, and the faintest sneer curled his lips. "Master?" he said, his voice dripping with derision. "Don't insult me by calling me that, Muramasa. You forfeited the right to address me when you chose to grovel before Soul Society."

Muramasa flinched, but he held his ground. "I didn't grovel. I did what I thought was necessary to survive, to rebuild what was lost-"

"What was lost?" Koga cut him off, standing abruptly. The chains binding his wrists clinked as he moved, his expression darkening further. "You betrayed me, Muramasa. You gave them everything. The very people who bound me, humiliated me, discarded me, you went tothem! You're nothing but a dog wagging its tail for scraps from Yamamoto and his lapdogs."

Muramasa's ethereal form flickered slightly, a telltale sign of his inner turmoil. "I sacrificed everything for you, Koga," he said, his tone meeker now. "I was lost for centuries because of you, and I fought my way back, for you. To free you."

"Free me?" Koga's laugh was hollow and sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. "You think this is freedom? You brought me here to play by their rules, to beg for their mercy? Look around you, Muramasa. This is your doing. You've done nothing but prove how weak you truly are."

Jean's face hardened as she took a step forward. "That's enough," she said sharply, her voice laced with quiet authority. "Do you have any idea what Muramasa has been through for you? He didn't just survive, heendured. All of it for the chance to see you again, and this is how you repay him?"

Koga's gaze snapped to Jean, his eyes narrowing. "And who are you to lecture me, outsider? You know nothing of what I've endured."

"I know enough," Jean countered, her voice calm but firm. "I've seen people sacrifice themselves for those they care about. I've seen loyalty and love pushed to their limits. And I've seen people like you, so consumed by their bitterness that they can't see the people still standing by their side."

Logan stepped forward, his claws unsheathed with a softsniktas he glared at Koga. "She's bein' polite, bub. I ain't got the patience for it. You've got some nerve treatin' him like dirt after what he's done for you."

Koga's sneer deepened, but he didn't respond. Instead, he turned back to Muramasa, his tone icy. "Is this what you've become? A lapdog and a puppet for these... creatures?"

Muramasa's form shimmered faintly, his voice quiet but unyielding. "I am still your zanpakuto, Koga. I still carry your essence, no matter what you've become."

"You carrynothingof mine anymore," Koga spat. "You're not my Zanpakutō. You're a disgrace. You're a tool for them now, just like I was cast aside as a tool."

Koga's sneer widened, his bitterness bubbling over into outright malice. His voice dripped venom with every word as he leaned forward, the chains binding him clinking faintly with his movement. "You know what you are, Muramasa? You're pathetic. A hollow echo of what you used to be. You speak of loyalty, of sacrifice, but all I see is a desperate fool groveling for scraps at the feet of my enemies."

Muramasa's form flickered faintly, his resolve shaken but not yet broken. "I came here to-"

"To what?!" Koga roared, cutting him off. "To save me? Spare me your sanctimony. You're nothing but a weapon that's outlived its purpose. A failed experiment. Do you honestly believe your pitiful attempts at redemption mean anything? You betrayed me the moment you sided with them."

Muramasa took a step back, his glowing form dimming slightly. "Koga… I only wanted to-"

"To what?! Make yourself feel better?!" Koga snarled, his voice growing louder and more cruel with every word. "You think crawling back to me absolves you of your failure? Let me tell you something, Muramasa. You disgust me. Your very existence is an insult to everything I once stood for. You were supposed to be my partner, my blade, mystrength. But now, you're just a shadow, a pitiful creature who doesn't even deserve to call itself a zanpakutō."

Muramasa visibly recoiled, his form trembling as Koga's words struck like daggers. The glow that once radiated with confidence and resolve now flickered like a dying ember. His voice was faint as he tried to speak, but no words came. The scorn in Koga's gaze burned deeper than any physical wound ever could.

"And let me make this clear," Koga continued, his tone turning darker and more venomous. "You're no longer mine. You're theirs. A slave to Soul Society, just like they made me a slave. You're no better than the trash they use and throw away. You've become exactly what they wanted, a lapdog who begs for their approval."

Muramasa staggered, his ethereal body dimming further as if the weight of Koga's words was crushing him. Jean's face twisted in horror as she watched the exchange, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Logan's claws were already out, the tension in his body screaming that he was one insult away from intervening.

"And the worst part?" Koga hissed, his tone dripping with loathing. "I hate myself for ever trusting you. For ever believing you were worth anything more than the dirt beneath my feet. You're nothing, Muramasa. Absolutelynothing."

Muramasa froze, his glow extinguishing entirely as Koga's final words hit like a killing blow. His head dipped, his shoulders slumping as the weight of centuries of loyalty and sacrifice were cast aside like trash. He didn't speak, couldn't speak. The silence in the room was deafening, the air heavy with the cruelty that hung over them all.

"Enough," came the firm, commanding voice of Captain-Commander Yamamoto. His presence filled the room with an air of authority so absolute that even Koga fell silent for a moment.

Koga turned his sneer toward the old man, but before he could speak, Yamamoto raised a hand and a surge of Kido crackled in the air. With a single gesture, a binding spell locked over Koga's mouth, silencing him mid-sneer. The flames of Yamamoto's reiatsu radiated in the room like a furnace, and for the first time since the meeting began, Koga's arrogance faltered.

"I have heard enough of your vile tirades," Yamamoto said, his voice low but sharp as a blade. "You may have been wronged in the past, Koga Kuchiki, but that does not excuse your behavior. To insult and degrade the one who sacrificed everything for you is not the mark of a man, it is the mark of a coward."

Jean and Logan exchanged a glance, relief washing over them that someone had finally stepped in. Muramasa, however, remained motionless, his head still bowed. The damage had already been done.

Yamamoto turned to Muramasa, his gaze softening slightly. "Muramasa, you have shown more strength and honor today than your former master has in a lifetime. Do not let his venom poison your resolve."

But Muramasa didn't respond. He turned slowly, his dim form almost translucent as he stepped away from Koga's cell. His voice was faint, barely audible as he whispered, "This was a mistake."

Jean reached out to him, her expression full of sympathy, but he moved past her without a word. Logan growled low in his throat, his eyes fixed on Koga with barely restrained fury. "That bastard doesn't deserve you, Muramasa," he muttered.

As the door to the holding chamber closed behind them, Yamamoto's gaze lingered on Koga for a moment longer. "You have wasted this opportunity to show even a shred of decency, Koga Kuchiki. You will remain here until such time as you can prove otherwise, or until you fade into irrelevance."

Koga's muffled growl echoed faintly as Yamamoto turned and left the room, his presence leaving behind a silence as cold and empty as the prisoner's heart.

Muramasa stood in the corridor, his form faint and flickering. Jean approached him carefully, her voice soft. "Muramasa, you didn't deserve that. None of it."

Logan placed a hand on Muramasa's shoulder, his gruff voice surprisingly gentle. "Don't let that bastard get to you, bub. You're better than him, and you've proven it."

But Muramasa didn't respond. His head remained bowed, his glow faint as he whispered, "I thought I could save him. I thought… I thought he'd remember."

Jean stepped closer, her voice filled with quiet strength. "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, Muramasa. But that doesn't make what you've done any less meaningful. You've shown loyalty, compassion, and strength. That's more than he deserves."

Peter-Knull appeared at the end of the corridor, his expression grave as he approached. "This isn't the end, Muramasa," he said firmly. "You're not defined by him. You never were. The strength you showed today, that's who you are."

Muramasa nodded faintly, though his form still flickered with the weight of his emotions. As they walked away from the chamber, the faint echo of Koga's muffled growl lingered, a reminder of the darkness they had faced. But even in the shadows, the light of Muramasa's resolve refused to be extinguished.

…

The streets of Karakura Town were unusually quiet. The sun dipped low in the sky a while ago. Ichigo Kurosaki sat at the kitchen table, absentmindedly sipping tea while listening to Yuzu hum in the other room. It had been weeks since any real action, hollows were disappearing or being purified faster than ever. Whatever threat loomed, it hadn't made its move yet, leaving him with an eerie sense of waiting.

"Boring," Ichigo muttered, tapping his fingers against the table. His hollow growled in the back of his mind.

"You should enjoy it while it lasts, King. Peace never stays long."

The brief reprieve gave him time to think, too much time, really. He felt Zangetsu stirring, his deep voice blending with the hollow's.

"Something is shifting. Do not let this silence lull you, Ichigo."

Before he could respond, the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" Yuzu called, but Ichigo stood quickly, intercepting her. "I've got it."

He moved to the door, reaching for the handle. But the moment his hand touched the wood, every sense in his body screamed. Zangetsu and his hollow both roared in unison.

"Don't open it!"

His heart pounded as he hesitated, his instincts screaming at him to run. But it was too late. The door creaked open, and the figure standing there made Ichigo freeze in place.

It was tall, impossibly so, its lanky frame stooped to fit under the doorway. A tattered burlap cloak draped over its body, frayed at the edges and woven with what appeared to be vines and ropes. Beneath the hood, two glowing red eyes burned like embers in a dark, hollow void of a face. Its skeletal hands clutched a wooden cross, more a twisted staff than a tool of salvation like a scarecrow post as appose to an actual cross.

Ichigo swallowed hard, his hand gripping the doorframe as his reiatsu instinctively flared, though he quickly dampened it. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't human. And it didn't belong here.

But it wasn't the otherworldly appearance that terrified him—it was the sheer presence of the creature. It didn't just stand there; it loomed, its aura suffocating the air around it. Every inch of its being radiated an ancient, primal malice.

"May I come in?" it asked, its voice a low, rasping drawl that seemed to scrape against the inside of Ichigo's skull. The sound was unnatural, like wind rustling through dry leaves.

Ichigo's mind raced. This thing didn't feel like a hollow, a Shinigami, or even a Quincy. It was something entirely different, something wrong. His hollow snarled louder, its voice a desperate warning.

"Don't fight it! Don't fight it, King! You'll get us all killed!"

Zangetsu echoed the sentiment, his tone grim."This creature is beyond you. If you provoke it, Karakura will burn."

The scarecrow tilted its head slightly, as if it could sense Ichigo's hesitation. Its red eyes burned brighter, glowing like coals stoked by a growing flame.

"I mean no harm," it said softly, though its very presence belied the statement. "Not unless you give me reason."

Ichigo swallowed hard, his hand tightening on the doorframe. He glanced quickly behind him, making sure Yuzu and Karin were still out of sight. His throat was dry, his thoughts a tangle of fear, confusion, and instinct.

"What do you want?" he managed, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands.

The scarecrow's skeletal fingers tapped lightly against the cross it held. "A conversation. Nothing more." It paused, its glowing eyes narrowing slightly. "Surely the son of Isshin Kurosaki is not so unkind as to deny a guest."

Ichigo's blood ran cold at the mention of his father. How did it know Isshin? More importantly, how much did it know abouthim? He clenched his jaw, his instincts screaming at him to shut the door, to run, to fight, but the hollow's voice hissed again.

"Don't. Just don't."

Slowly, Ichigo stepped aside, gesturing for the figure to enter. "Fine," he said through gritted teeth. "But if you try anything…"

The scarecrow chuckled, a sound like dry wood splintering under pressure. "You have my word. No harm will come to you or yours—provided you listen."

The figure stepped inside, its long, ragged frame barely brushing the doorway. The air in the house grew colder, heavier, as though the very presence of the creature disrupted reality itself. Ichigo felt his knees weaken as he closed the door behind it, keeping his eyes on the being at all times.

"What are you?" Ichigo asked, his voice low.

The scarecrow turned, its glowing eyes locking onto his. "A traveler," it said simply. "And a messenger. But you may call me the Scarecrow-Knull."

The name sent a jolt through Ichigo, though he didn't know why. He stared at the creature, his mind racing as his spiritual pressure churned within him. Whatever this thing was, it wasn't here for small talk.

"Why here? Why me?" Ichigo demanded.

The Scarecrow-Knull tilted its head again, as if studying him. "Because the winds of war are stirring, Kurosaki. And whether you like it or not, you stand at the center."

Before Ichigo could respond, the Scarecrow-Knull raised a hand, a single, skeletal finger pointing toward him. "But first… let us see how much you truly understand."

Ichigo stared at the Scarecrow-Knull, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. The grotesque creature sat comfortably in the dining room chair, its lanky frame too large for the modest table. Its burlap skin and sharp, needle-like twig teeth glinted faintly in the room's dim light, the flicker of its glowing red eyes reflecting an ancient malice.

"I'm here on behalf of Shaman-Knull," the creature began, its voice rasping and uneven, like wind whistling through broken reeds. "As you know—and likely have heard ad nauseum by now—we need a very specific set of ingredients to bind Peter-Knull to the hell of this world." It leaned forward slightly, its skeletal fingers drumming against the table. "Ingredients that are… difficult to come by."

Ichigo swallowed hard, his entire body taut as he prepared for the worst. His instincts told him to attack, but Zangetsu and his hollow roared in unison in his head.

"Don't! You'll endanger everyone!"

The Scarecrow-Knull leaned back, its grotesque maw stretching into a wide, predatory grin. Its twig-like teeth parted as a thick, slimy tongue slithered out, licking at its lips. A worm crawled out of the corner of its mouth, disappearing back into the folds of its burlap skin.

"Now, while I explain this little tidbit," it rasped, its tone suddenly casual, "why don't you fetch some grub? I'm starving." It leaned forward, lowering its voice mockingly, "And I'dloveto meet the family."

Ichigo froze, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to figure out his next move. Before he could react, the door to the dining room creaked open, and Yuzu stepped inside, followed closely by Karin. They both froze in their tracks at the sight of the Scarecrow-Knull sitting at their dining table.

"W-What… is that?" Yuzu whispered, clutching the tray of food tightly, her knuckles turning white.

"Stay back," Karin muttered, her voice low but trembling as she instinctively stepped in front of her sister.

Before Ichigo could speak, their father, Isshin Kurosaki, entered the room. The sight of the Scarecrow-Knull made him stop dead in his tracks. For a moment, the usual carefree and goofy expression on Isshin's face vanished, replaced by one of sheer, unrelenting focus. His eyes darted to Ichigo, then to his daughters, before settling on the creature.

"Well," Isshin said slowly, his voice calm despite the tension in the air. "Looks like we have… an unexpected guest."

The Scarecrow-Knull's grin widened, its glowing red eyes narrowing with amusement. "Indeed. A pleasure to meet the Kurosaki family." It gestured to the table with a bony hand. "Why don't we all sit down? I promise, it'll be a conversation to remember."

Ichigo's mind raced as Isshin quickly moved to help Yuzu and Karin set the food down on the table. He could see the tension in his father's movements, the way his hands shook ever so slightly as he worked to keep the girls calm. Yuzu's hands trembled as she placed a tray of sushi on the table, while Karin kept her eyes locked on the Scarecrow-Knull, her jaw clenched tightly.

The creature picked up a piece of sushi with a fork, holding it up as if examining it. "You see," it began, its voice taking on a strangely philosophical tone, "we Knulls aren't like your precious Peter-Knull. We don't entertain fools, and we certainly don't shy away from putting anyone or anything on the menu."

The room went silent, the weight of its words pressing down on everyone present. The Scarecrow-Knull's grin widened as it shoved the fork through the piece of sushi and held it up. "You may exist, you may fight, you may ultimately think that all of you…morsels… are the dominant lifeforms of this cosmos." It paused, its glowing eyes scanning the table. "But I ask you this—do you have any qualms about the torment those fishes endured to give you this sustenance?"

It leaned forward, its mouth opening far larger than it should have, its needle-like teeth lining its throat and the sides of its mouth. With a horrifying crunch, it bit down on the piece of sushi, chewing slowly and deliberately. "This is tasty," it muttered, swallowing. "I like it."

Yuzu whimpered softly, her hands trembling as she clung to her father's arm. Karin sat stiffly, her eyes locked on the creature as if daring it to make a move.

"Enough of the philosophy lesson," Ichigo said through gritted teeth, his voice low and strained. "What do you want?"

The Scarecrow-Knull's grin widened further, an unsettling sight that made Ichigo's stomach churn. It casually picked up a knife from the table, spinning it between its skeletal fingers before placing it in the center of the table.

"Simple," it said, its tone casual yet dripping with menace. "I need a drop of blood. From you, Kurosaki." It leaned back, its glowing eyes narrowing as it surveyed the room. "Or…" Its grin grew impossibly wide, the malice in its expression downright terrifying in glee.

"I eat everyone in this room."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Yuzu gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, while Karin's eyes widened in shock. Isshin's expression darkened, his jaw tightening as he placed a protective hand on Yuzu's shoulder.

"You have ten seconds to decide," the Scarecrow-Knull continued, its tone almost playful. It gestured to the knife in the center of the table. "Tick-tock, Kurosaki. Make your decision soon."

The room was silent except for the sound of Yuzu's quiet sobs and Karin's sharp, shallow breaths. Ichigo's mind raced as he stared at the knife, the weight of the creature's demand pressing down on him. He could feel Zangetsu and his hollow screaming in his head, their voices blending into a single, desperate plea.

"Don't fight it! Do what it wants!"

Isshin met Ichigo's gaze, his expression unreadable. "Ichigo," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "Do what you have to."

Ichigo's hand trembled as he reached for the knife, his heart pounding in his chest. He could feel the Scarecrow-Knull's gaze on him, its glowing eyes burning into his soul as it awaited his decision.

The Scarecrow-Knull's glowing red eyes never left Ichigo as it leaned forward, its grotesque frame casting long, jagged shadows across the room. It tapped its bony fingers on the table in a slow, deliberate rhythm, its needle-like teeth parting in a sinister grin.

"Seven…" it rasped, the word echoing like a death knell.

Ichigo's breathing quickened, his hand hovering over the knife. Zangetsu and his hollow screamed in his head, their voices deafening.

"Do it! Don't hesitate!"

"Six…" The creature's voice grew deeper, more guttural, as though it were savoring every moment of the family's panic. Yuzu whimpered, her face buried against Isshin's arm. Karin's nails dug into her chair, her eyes darting between Ichigo and the abomination seated at their table.

"Five…" The Scarecrow-Knull tilted its head, watching Ichigo with unsettling amusement. "What's the matter, Kurosaki? Don't tell me you're hesitating? Tick-tock…"

Ichigo's heart pounded like a drum in his chest. His hand shook as he reached for the knife, sweat dripping from his brow. He glanced at his family—Yuzu trembling, Karin's jaw clenched tight, Isshin standing protectively behind them, his own composure faltering. He couldn't risk them.

"Four…" The creature dragged the word out, savoring the tension in the room. It reached for another piece of sushi, its twig-like tongue flicking out to coil around it. "Still deciding? How quaint…"

"Three…" Ichigo's hand gripped the knife. He felt like he was going to vomit. His hollow voice snarled in his head, filled with desperation.

"DO IT, KING! NOW!"

"Two…" The Scarecrow-Knull's tone dropped, almost to a whisper, yet its malice was deafening. Its glowing eyes bored into Ichigo's, unyielding and relentless.

"One…"

Ichigo didn't let it finish. In a flash, he grabbed the knife and, with trembling hands, carefully sliced his thumb. Blood welled up instantly, bright crimson against his pale skin. He held his thumb over the table as the Scarecrow-Knull produced a vial seemingly out of nowhere, the glass faintly glowing as it caught the light.

"Ah, there it is," the creature murmured, its long fingers deftly catching the drop of blood in the vial. The cork was pressed in with a softpop, sealing the crimson liquid within. It turned the vial slowly, examining it with something that resembled admiration.

"Pleasure doing business with you," it hissed, leaning back with an unsettling ease as it popped another piece of sushi into its grotesque maw. Its jaw stretched unnaturally wide as it chewed, needle-like teeth glinting in the dim light.

Ichigo remained frozen, his thumb still bleeding slightly as the Scarecrow-Knull rose from the table. It gave him a mock bow, its glowing eyes never leaving him, and then turned toward the wall. As though it were made of mist, its burlap body sank into the wooden surface, the creaking sound of splintering wood filling the room as it disappeared into the structure.

The last thing they heard before the silence returned was its voice, low and mocking.

"Enjoy the sushi. We'll meet again, Kurosaki."

And with that, it was gone.

The room fell deathly silent, save for the sound of Yuzu's quiet sobs. Ichigo remained motionless, staring at the spot where the Scarecrow-Knull had disappeared. His hand trembled, blood still dripping from his thumb onto the table.

Isshin exhaled a shaky breath, placing a hand on Ichigo's shoulder. "You did the right thing," he said quietly, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

Ichigo didn't respond. His hollow growled in his head, and Zangetsu's voice was solemn.

"That was no ordinary foe. You've delayed its hunger, but you did the right thing Ichigo."

Yuzu finally broke the silence, her voice trembling. "Ichigo… what was that thing?"

Ichigo swallowed hard, his voice hoarse. "Yuzu…. Karen…. There's things you need to know."