Chapter 58: Crushing Victory!
The transformation was complete.
Ulquiorra Cifer hovered in the sky, his silhouette framed by the colossal black bat wings that blocked out the sun. The spiritual pressure radiating from his released form, Murciélago, was heavy and cold, settling over the jungle like a layer of invisible frost.
He looked down at the two Giants, his emerald eyes devoid of mercy.
"It is over," he whispered.
With a microscopic twitch of his wings, the air behind him shattered.
Zwoosh.
There was no blur. There was no afterimage. He simply ceased to exist in his original coordinates and materialized instantaneously in a new location.
He appeared directly in front of Brogy's massive chest. To the Giant, who was twenty meters tall, Ulquiorra was nothing more than a speck of dust—a white moth fluttering near his heart.
But the danger this "moth" radiated was apocalyptic.
"Careful, Brogy!" Dorry roared from the side, his warrior instincts screaming. "He's inside your guard!"
But it was too late. The warning couldn't outpace the speed of an Espada.
Ulquiorra raised his right hand. Spiritual particles, glowing with a sickly azure-green hue, condensed rapidly in his palm. They didn't form a metal blade, but a jagged, vibrating construct of pure energy.
[Luz de la Luna] (Light of the Moon).
There was no shout of effort. No dramatic wind-up. Just a simple, unadorned vertical slash executed with the clinical precision of a surgeon removing a tumor.
SHING—!
A line of green light, thin as a hair but hot as the sun, bisected the air.
"Guh...!"
Brogy's eyes bulged, capillaries bursting from the sudden shock.
A massive, steaming wound instantly bloomed on his sturdy, bronze-skinned chest. The energy blade sliced through the thick giant muscle, the hardened ribcage, and the tough connective tissue without encountering an ounce of resistance. The intense heat of the spiritual energy cauterized the flesh instantly, filling the air with the pungent scent of ozone and burnt meat.
Even more terrifying than the cut itself was the tremendous kinetic force contained within the sword's momentum.
A human-sized swing carrying the weight of a collapsing star.
CRACK!
The force transferred into Brogy's body. The Red Ogre, a being who weighed hundreds of tons, was lifted off his feet by the impact.
"He... he lifted him?!" Nami gasped, her hands gripping the hem of Albedo's dress. "Brogy is flying?!"
"Boom—!!"
Brogy's colossal body was launched backward like a cannonball. He crashed heavily onto the jungle floor hundreds of meters away, smashing through a grove of ancient trees as if they were matchsticks.
The ground jumped. A mushroom cloud of dirt, pulverized rock, and splinters rose into the sky.
The Red Ogre groaned once, his eyes rolling back into his head. The giant axe in his hand, Bruiser Axe, slipped from his grasp and fell with a heavy, mournful THUD beside him.
One blow.
The legend who had fought for a hundred years had been silenced in a single, indifferent strike.
"Brogy—!!"
Witnessing his century-old comrade-in-arms defeated in the blink of an eye, Dorry's world shattered.
His eyes turned crimson, blood vessels popping in his rage. A roar of grief and indignation erupted from his throat, a sound so raw it made the surrounding volcanoes seem quiet.
"You... you monster! How dare you!"
Dorry no longer held anything back. He ignored the stinging burns on his skin from the earlier Cero. He gripped the hilt of his Terry Sword with both hands, his knuckles turning white.
"I will crush you! For Elbaf!"
His muscles bulged to the point of tearing. The veins on his arms looked like pythons beneath his skin. With astonishing momentum that defied the laws of physics for a creature his size, he slashed down fiercely at the tiny figure floating in front of him!
The sword descended like a falling mountain. The air pressure alone was enough to flatten the grass below.
DONG!!
A dull, colossal sound echoed across the island. It wasn't the sound of cutting flesh; it was the sound of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object.
The Terry Sword stopped dead in mid-air.
Ulquiorra hovered in place, holding his slender, vibrating spiritual particle sword horizontally above his head with just one hand.
He effortlessly blocked a blade that was fifty times larger than his own body.
The shockwave from the block blew the clouds away, but Ulquiorra didn't drop even an inch.
"Is that all?" Ulquiorra asked, his voice flat and boring through the ringing in Dorry's ears. "Your anger has not increased your mass."
"N-No...!" Dorry gritted his teeth, pushing down with all his might, his boots sliding backward and carving deep trenches into the bedrock. "Move, you demon!"
"Futile."
An irresistible force suddenly emanated from Ulquiorra's small sword. He flicked his wrist upward.
CLANG!
Dorry's massive sword was knocked back, throwing the Giant off balance. His gargantuan body staggered backward uncontrollably.
Just as he was about to fall, Dorry displayed the astonishing agility of a veteran warrior. He bent backward, planting his left hand on the ground to spring off, using the rotational force to stabilize his center of gravity.
He leaped backward, landing in a crouch, panting heavily.
"He's fast for his size," Suzaku noted from the sidelines, crossing his arms. "That recovery was textbook."
"Such a massive body, yet capable of such nimble movements... commendable," Ulquiorra commented, watching the retreat with cold, analytical eyes.
However, his emerald pupils narrowed slightly.
"But in front of me... distance is meaningless."
His black wings vibrated again.
Zwoosh.
Before Dorry could even lift his sword again, a shadow fell over his face.
Ulquiorra was already there. He hovered directly in front of Dorry's nose, his pale face illuminated by the green glow of his weapon.
"Wha—?!" Dorry's pupils contracted.
In his eyes, filled with astonishment and unwillingness, the azure spiritual particle sword moved again. It looked like the stroke of a calligraphy brush—elegant, silent, and deadly.
Slash—!
"Gah...!"
A second hideous wound appeared on Dorry's chest, mirroring the one on Brogy's. The armor shattered, and blood sprayed into the air.
Immediately after, the delayed explosive force detonated.
BOOM!
"Bang!!"
Accompanied by a dull, earth-shaking thud, Dorry's giant body crashed to the ground like a kite with a cut string. Dust billowed everywhere, shrouding the fallen legends of Elbaf.
The jungle fell silent.
The battle, which began in a flash of lightning after Ulquiorra's Resurrección, had ended in less than thirty seconds.
Ulquiorra didn't even glance back at the two fallen giants. He knew exactly where he had struck—non-fatal areas, designed to incapacitate, not execute.
He floated down toward Suzaku. As his feet touched the soft grass, the black wings on his back and the bone helmet on his head dissipated into dissolving green spiritual particles. His white coat returned, and the hole in his chest remained the only sign of his emptiness.
He adjusted his collar and walked back to the group as if he had merely gone for a morning stroll.
"Mission complete," Ulquiorra stated.
"What a magnificent battle," Suzaku said, walking forward with a proud smile. "Just one release, and you dismantled two Captain-level Giants effortlessly. Your control over your output is getting better."
Nami immediately ran over, pulling Rem with her. Her face was flushed with excitement and a massive sense of relief.
"Ulquiorra! You're too amazing!" Nami cheered, practically bouncing. She reached out and patted the Arrancar's arm—something she never would have dared to do before. "Even those huge monsters were no match for you! I was so scared my legs were shaking, but you just swatted them like flies! From now on, you're officially the ship's bodyguard! I feel so safe!"
Rem nodded in agreement, her morning star lowered. "Mr. Ulquiorra's precision was excellent. Not a single wasted movement. It was... beautiful."
Ulquiorra paused. He looked at Nami's hand on his arm, then at Rem's admiring gaze, and finally at Suzaku's approving nod.
He felt... strange.
Usually, in Las Noches, victory was expected. Failure was death. There was no praise, only the absence of punishment.
But here, their eyes held warmth. They weren't looking at him as a weapon. They were looking at him.
Why do they praise me? I simply removed an obstacle. It is efficient. It is logical.
And yet... the void in his chest felt slightly less empty.
On his usually expressionless face, the corner of his mouth twitched upward by a millimeter. A faint, almost imperceptible ghost of a smile appeared.
A barely audible whisper sounded in the wind, meant only for himself.
"...Companions?"
Two Hours Later.
The sun had begun to set, painting the sky of the prehistoric island in hues of blood orange and violet.
Dorry slowly awoke.
His head felt heavy, like it was stuffed with wet cotton. His entire body ached with a dull, throbbing pain, especially his chest. He felt as if he had experienced a long, strange dream.
In the dream, he and Brogy were in their usual duel... but then a white demon appeared, blocked their strongest attack with one hand, and swatted them down like children.
"Ugh..."
He tried to move, and a sharp sting in his chest instantly shattered his daze. He looked down to see a massive white bandage wrapped around his torso. The wound had been treated.
It turns out... it wasn't a dream!
He let out a low groan of defeat, propping up his mountain-heavy body with his thick arms. The ground beneath him was warm.
Just as he tried to clear his chaotic thoughts, a rich, savory aroma drifted into his large nostrils.
It was powerful. It cut through the smell of blood and sulfur. It was spicy, fatty, salty, and utterly mouth-watering.
It was the smell of roasted meat. But not just any meat. It was the dinosaur meat he had eaten for a hundred years, but prepared with spices and sauces he had never smelled before in his century of isolation.
"Oh~ Dorry! You're finally awake! Gebabababa!"
Brogy's familiar, booming voice reached his ears. It didn't sound angry. It sounded... happy.
Dorry slowly turned his massive head in the direction of the sound. The sight that met his eyes made him pause, his brain struggling to process the surreal scene.
He saw his comrade-in-arms, Brogy, sitting peacefully in the center of the clearing. The Red Ogre, also bandaged, was holding half a roasted T-Rex leg—crispy, golden-brown, and dripping with oil—eating it with great relish. Grease stained his magnificent beard.
In front of Brogy, a huge bonfire—made from whole trees stacked together—was blazing merrily.
Above the dancing flames, three entire dinosaurs (the ones Rem had caught earlier, plus two more) were skewered on massive wooden stakes. They sizzled as they roasted, golden fat dripping into the fire with loud hissing sounds, sending plumes of delicious smoke into the air.
Near the fire, the blue-haired maid, Rem, was moving with incredible speed. She was brushing a thick, dark glaze onto the roasting meat using a mop-sized brush.
"Just a little more heat on the left side, Ram," Rem instructed.
"Understood," Ram replied, flicking her finger to send a gentle wind blade that fanned the flames to the perfect temperature.
Brogy, while tearing large bites from the meat in his hand, laughed loudly. "Eat up! The seasoning is incredible! These little humans are geniuses!"
What surprised Dorry even more was that the group sitting around the warm bonfire was precisely the same group of tiny humans who had utterly defeated them both just hours ago.
They weren't gloating. They weren't standing over them as conquerors with chains. They were... having a picnic.
"Wow, the texture and chewiness of this meat are really good!"
Nami, the orange-haired girl, was sitting on a log, holding a chunk of meat larger than her head. Her cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk, and her eyes were closed in bliss. "I never thought dinosaur meat could be so delicious! Rem, your marinade is magic! It melts in your mouth!"
"Thank you, Miss Nami," Rem replied with a sweet smile, slicing another slab of meat with a knife that looked like a silver blur. "The key is the pepper from the South Blue and a bit of honey to balance the gaminess."
"Yeah, hahahaha!"
The man who had defeated them mentally—Suzaku—raised a large wooden barrel (which looked like a cup in a Giant's hand) and laughed heartily.
"This meat is flavorful! A perfect match for drinks! Come on, everyone, toast!"
Drinks?
This word was like a thunderclap in Dorry's mind. It instantly unlocked a century of dormant desires.
He suddenly sniffed the air again. Beneath the smell of meat and woodsmoke, he caught it. The rich, pungent, nostalgic aroma of high-quality alcohol.
Rum. Sake. Wine. The smell of civilization.
The pain in his chest and the depression of defeat evaporated instantly, diluted by the overwhelming craving for fine wine. He hadn't touched a drop of ale in one hundred years.
His throat moved involuntarily, swallowing a massive gulp of saliva that sounded like a rock dropping into a well.
He couldn't help himself. He ignored his dignity. He shouted in a booming voice towards the bonfire, his tone sounding genuinely aggrieved.
"Hey! You guys... how could you act so heartlessly?!"
Everyone turned to look at him. The music and laughter stopped.
Dorry pointed a trembling, massive finger at the barrel in Suzaku's hand.
"How could you not call me for such a good thing as drinking! Pass the barrel over here! I'm dying of thirst! My throat is dry as a desert!"
Suzaku looked at the waking Giant and grinned. He didn't see an enemy. He saw a new friend.
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