Overstepped

Arima stood silently before the crystal that held the Soul King, its faint luminescence casting a pale glow over the vast chamber.

Arima raised his sword, the glass-like blade shimmering as the cracks within it pulsed with an internal, molten light.

His voice echoed through the chamber as he began his chant, calling upon the next stage of his weapon's power.

"Shinzō o Hiraku." (心臓を開く)

The name, meaning "The Heart," reverberated like a drumbeat, each syllable resonating with an ancient, almost primordial force.

As he spoke, the sword transformed.

The crystalline outer layer fractured and dissolved into the air, leaving behind a blade that looked forged from obsidian veins and flowing magma, alive and otherworldly.

Gone was the fleshy visage of a living core.

Pitch-black wings erupted from his back, their edges shimmering like they were cut from the void itself.

Two blood-red horns grew from his head, their surfaces jagged and pulsing faintly, like veins filled with molten energy.

Ichibei, standing nearby, raised his hand toward the crystalline seal encasing the Soul King. "I'm going to temporarily open sections of the stabilizer seal," he said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "You will feel it—the weight of the realms. Be prepared."

Arima gave a faint nod, his molten gaze fixed on the crystal as it began to shift.

Threads of energy, almost invisible, unfurled from the seal like crystalline spiderwebs, reaching out and attaching themselves to his body.

Each thread carried with it a fragment of the stabilizing power that kept the three realms in balance.

The moment the threads connected, Arima staggered slightly, his legs buckling under the sudden, immense weight that pressed down on his soul.

The stabilizing force required for the realms began to flow out of him, an impossible burden that only someone of his nature could even attempt to endure.

The sword in his hand flared with light as the second stage's true nature began to manifest.

Unlike the individual abilities of the first stage—Metamorphosis, Symbiosis, Spiritual Sight, and Spatial Manipulation—the second stage's subdivisions worked as a singular, interconnected system.

Like an engine, its components—Pulse, Living Core, Resonance, and Soul Nexus—each played a role in sustaining and amplifying the whole and creating "The Heart".

The Heart stored all of his surplus reiatsu slowly in an alternate little world or more specefically his soul scape to form a nigh infinite supply of reiatsu which over time created a phantom soul organ in his body which generates when he is at a stage 2 or above for his Zanpakutō.

The crystalline threads pulsed in time with his blade, his body adapting to the unbearable weight through the combined force of "The Heart" and his sheer will.

The chamber seemed to darken, as if the light itself recoiled from the overwhelming energy now radiating from Arima.

Ichibei, observing from his position, muttered under his breath, "Even with all that power, to bear the weight of the realms… is still an impossible task."

Arima's gaze flicked toward him for the briefest moment, his expression calm but unyielding.

"Impossible is only a word for the incompetent." he said, his voice steady despite the strain.

With every pulse of the threads connecting him to the seal, he felt the burden of the realms grow heavier.

Yet, despite the crushing weight, he stood firm, his will unwavering.

The chamber trembled as the process continued, the balance of existence itself hanging by a thread.

But in Arima's hands, that thread felt like iron.

---

Arima stood motionless before the towering crystal, the pulsating form of the Soul King encased within.

His grip on his Zanpakutō tightened as he raised it, the obsidian blade with its molten core glinting ominously in the dim light of the chamber.

With a single, decisive motion, he plunged the sword into the crystal.

The sound of shattering glass echoed, and a portion of the crystalline structure split apart with surgical precision.

Unfiltered, overwhelming reiatsu burst forth like a tidal wave, washing over the chamber with crushing force.

Arima, undeterred, remained steady as his hair and robes billowed wildly.

His molten gaze never wavered as he whispered a silent apology to the Soul King.

"For what you have endured, I need not offer justification," he said quietly, his voice filled with resolve. "But I cannot afford to consider anyone else's suffering in this matter—not even yours."

Summoning Resonance Pulse and Metamorphosis, Arima directed his Zanpakutō's energy with surgical precision.

The skin and muscle surrounding the Soul King's spine disintegrated in an instant, reduced to nothingness by the raw power of his abilities.

The task was grueling; his hands trembled as his body threatened to collapse under the strain of the world.

With an almost impossibly clean cut, Arima severed the Soul King's spine from his body.

The sword, shimmering with reiatsu refined to a degree that it was solid, burned against his grip.

He gritted his teeth, his breathing labored as he felt his body nearing its breaking point with the transfer of the burden of three realms.

Yet, despite the strain, the spine fell away, separated from the body at last.

The chamber quaked as the balance of the realms tipped dangerously close to chaos.

Unfiltered energy surged through the room like a maelstrom, but Arima paid it no mind.

Using Metamorphosis and Symbiosis, he willed the surrounding flesh to regenerate, closing the gaping wound left behind.

It was an imperfect fix, but it was enough to stabilize the body temporarily.

His body, however, began to give out. Falling to one knee, Arima felt blood trickle from his nose, his already bad vision blurring.

The stabilizing counter tilted precariously at 95%, the burden of the realms pressing down on him like an unstoppable tide.

Sensing her master in distress, the One-Eyed Beast burst into action.

Her colossal form ascended into the chamber, her lone crimson eye blazing as she hovered protectively above Arima.

The air thickened with her monstrous reiatsu as she prepared to act.

But Ichibei intervened.

With a decisive gesture, the monk reactivated the seal, and the crystal around the Soul King returned to its former state the crystal threads disappearing.

The overwhelming pressure dissipated as the stabilizing forces realigned, leaving the chamber silent once more.

Before Ichibei could even move, Arima acted.

In a blur of motion, he swung his Zanpakutō, its edge slicing through the air with deadly precision.

The monk's body split into seven pieces, scattered across the chamber, his Zanpakutō untouched in its sheath.

Arima turned toward the seemingly lifeless pieces of Ichibei, his voice calm but cold. "I sensed the Kido you tried to place on me. Do not mistake my resolve for naivety."

The One-Eyed Beast descended, her presence a towering shadow behind Arima, her single eye fixed on the remains of the monk.

Arima, still kneeling, exhaled slowly and wiped the blood from his face.

Despite the immense strain, it was a fact that this confirmed many of his conjecture.

He was able to bear the world while using only a fragment of his true power which could only be used when he let go of this visage fused with his Zanpakuto and regain the unfiltered abilties before he made them into a Zanpakutō.

This all meant he was much more closer to being a soul king Candidate than he initially thought.

This also explains Ichibei's passive nature in fighting my growing power.

Arima rose slowly, his knees trembling.

Blood trickled from his nose and corner of his mouth, but he paid it no mind.

He tightened his grip on the Zanpakutō, the molten heat of its core pulsating as if in response to his will.

His gaze flicked up to the One-Eyed Beast hovering above him, her crimson eye locking with his.

He opened his mouth, and though no sound escaped for anyone else to hear, her name resounded in an otherworldly, distorted hum that reverberated through the chamber.

The name, incomprehensible to any but the two of them.

The One-Eyed Beast stilled for a moment, her monstrous frame seeming to tremble in resonance with her name being called.

"Shift forms," Arima commanded, his voice calm yet resolute.

"We're going together from now on. Ichibei has overstepped, and there is no longer any reason to honor the secondary pact."

The Beast's crimson eye flared with intensity, and her monstrous form began to distort.

Her massive frame shimmered as tendrils of her essence coiled inward, folding and reshaping her into a more compact, humanoid form.

The air thickened with her reiatsu as her transformation completed.

What stood before Arima now was a tall, feminine figure clad in an armor-like carapace that mirrored the molten, aesthetic of the previous form.

Her lone eye remained, a blazing red orb embedded in her face.

The transformed spirit stepped toward her master, lowering herself slightly so they were eye-to-eye.

Her voice, now more human but still carrying a monstrous undertone, resonated in his mind. "As you command, Master."

The two of them turned toward the chamber's exit.

The two ascended briefly before plunging downward, the air around them tearing apart as they moved.

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Stones and Reviews please