[The Defiled and the Pure]
What is the difference between a king and a soldier?
One must order, and one must follow. But the question is: Without a king, what would be the order?
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O'King provide me with quests, O'King provide me with ideals.
O'Mother, O'Father who abandoned, O'King who cherishes.
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"Would you rather see a man break or as the man defiles him in the depths of despair, when turned against a man all the ones held close not for a certain incident but the birth itself? If man is hated, if man never held any value as was defiled constantly, even if showered love late or tracery there is little meaning to the existence as it all seems mundane.
What are your thoughts Diablous.", Spoken by the queen Lillith, there shall be a war of the defiled against the ones pure
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The vast, frozen desolation of Judecca stretched endlessly before Kokutō and Aarowan, its suffocating silence only broken by the faint echo of unseen chains rattling beneath the ice. The air was dense with a malevolent stillness, the type of silence that seemed to weigh on the soul, pressing into the skin, as though the very atmosphere were a living entity, slowly suffocating all life beneath it. Every step the two figures took was accompanied by the crackle of ice underfoot, a constant reminder of the prison that surrounded them.
"So, my amicus, Kokutō," Aarowan's voice broke through the frozen quiet, his words trailing off with a note of amusement, "or rather, discipulus. Funny, isn't it?" His tone was light, but there was a dark undertone to his words. The winds of Judecca howled around them, whipping at their cloaks as they moved deeper into the icy abyss. "Regardless, let us see a way forward."
Aarowan paused, turning to face Kokutō, his eyes gleaming with that unsettling glint of twisted wisdom. "As I asked before," he continued, his voice now dripping with cruel curiosity, "would you rather see the futurum of the man you so dearly bonded with—love, hatred, cura, and despair?"
Kokutō remained silent, but his chest tightened with the weight of Aarowan's words. The air itself seemed to grow heavier, laden with memories, guilt, and the bitterness of lost bonds. The cold gnawed at his bones, but it was nothing compared to the chill that had settled in his heart.
"Let us simply spectare," Aarowan suggested, his voice taking on a mocking lilt, "into the seemingly healthy life of the one you once knew." His words were like venom, creeping into Kokutō's thoughts and poisoning them with doubt and fear.
As Aarowan spoke, the very fabric of reality began to waver. The jagged walls of Judecca, icy and oppressive, flickered and fell away as though they were no more than a fragile illusion. Kokutō's surroundings shifted and morphed. They were no longer standing in the frozen depths of Hell. Instead, they found themselves in a small, humble home. It was no grand mansion, but it held a warmth—a warmth that Kokutō had not felt in an eternity.
The sounds of life filled the space, replacing the oppressive silence of Judecca. There was music, soft and nostalgic, the kind that seemed to wrap around the soul and stir long-buried memories. Kokutō's heart tightened as he stood frozen, watching the scene unfold. The melody echoed in his mind, conjuring feelings of longing, regret, and an ache so deep that it threatened to break him.
A woman's voice broke through the music, tender and familiar. "Dear," she called from another room, her voice laced with affection and the ease of long companionship, "it's time for Kazui's school. Can you please take him?"
The voice sent a shiver through Kokutō's body. He knew that voice. It was etched into his memory, a voice tied to the atrocities he had committed, to the agony he had endured.
"Orihime," he whispered, barely audible, his breath misting in the air despite the warmth of the home. There was something about hearing her voice, here in this space, that felt like a dagger twisting in his chest.
Then came the response, a deeper voice, steady and calm—the voice of a man Kokutō had once revered, had once despised. "I'm ready," the man said, and Kokutō's heart stopped. "It might take a while to get back, but don't worry, okay?"
Kurosaki Ichigo.
The name escaped Kokutō's lips, though he hadn't meant to speak it aloud. The memories came rushing back, like floodwaters breaking through a dam. He saw flashes of battle, of pain, of a bond once strong but now shattered beyond repair.
As Kokutō stood there, watching the scene unfold, an oppressive weight began to settle over the house. It wasn't just him—it was as if everyone in the home could feel it. The air thickened with an unseen pressure, a dark presence that gripped at the edges of their minds, gnawing at their peace. Even Ichigo, ever the calm warrior, furrowed his brow, sensing something off, though he couldn't quite place it.
Kokutō felt it most keenly. It was an old feeling, one he had known all too well in the depths of Hell—a pressure of delicium, of deep enjoyment mixed with profound defilement. It was the feeling of watching something pure begin to rot from the inside out.
"What say you, Kokutō?" Aarowan's voice was a hiss now, his lips curled into a sinister grin. "Shall we deprive them of this peace? Shall we strip away their tranquility, their joy, and turn it into corruptio?"
Kokutō said nothing, but his fists clenched at his sides. Aarowan continued, his voice weaving through the air like a dark enchantment. "Shall we drive them into despair? Let us defile their thoughts, turn love into poison, and corrumpere the very threads of hope they cling to."
The weight of Aarowan's words crushed down on Kokutō, each syllable dripping with malice. But as he stood there, watching the scene before him, something inside him stirred. A flicker of something long dormant, buried beneath layers of guilt and hatred. Was it… defiance?
[Sit tenebrae nostrae deliciae.]
[Am - Gdim - C - Dm]
Ichigo's eyes, though still calm, narrowed. For the first time in a long while, he seemed to sense something beyond the physical realm—a disturbance, a ripple in the fabric of reality itself. His thoughts were sharp, concise. One word came to his mind, unbidden yet undeniable:
"Chaos."
The scene around Kokutō seemed to blur as the weight of the unseen began to crush the air from his lungs. Aarowan's presence was palpable, a dark force pressing against the fragile peace of this household. It wasn't just the environment that seemed to bend under his influence—it was the very soul of the place. The warmth that had once filled the home was rapidly dissipating, replaced by a creeping chill that seeped into every corner.
Kokutō's mind raced. He could feel the walls of his psyche closing in, the memories of his own failures, his own sins, threatening to overwhelm him. The urge to give in, to let the darkness take over, was strong. But something in him resisted. Something deep within him—a fragment of the man he had once been—fought back against the tide of nihil.
[Ego sum nihil sine lumine.]
[Bm - F#m - G - Dm]
As Kokutō struggled to maintain control, Aarowan moved closer, his breath cold against Kokutō's ear. "What are you waiting for?" Aarowan whispered, his voice both seductive and menacing. "This is your chance. Look at him—Ichigo—so full of love and hope. Let us corrumpere that love, let us turn it into the very thing that will destroy him."
Kokutō's breath quickened. The air was suffocating now, thick with the stench of impending corruption. His vision swam, and for a moment, he could see nothing but darkness. But in that darkness, a single thought cut through the haze:
"This is not who I am."
The realization hit him like a thunderbolt, and with it came a surge of defiance. Kokutō's fists unclenched, and his body straightened as he stared into the heart of the scene before him. Orihime's laughter, Ichigo's calm presence, the innocence of their child—it all snapped into sharp focus. They were everything Kokutō had once wanted. They were everything he had once hoped for, but had been denied.
And yet, they were not his to destroy.
[Ego et lux sumus.]
[C - F#dim - Dm - Am]
Aarowan's smile faded, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "What's this?" he hissed, his voice laced with venom. "You're resisting?"
Kokutō turned to face him, his expression hardening. "I will not become the thing that destroyed me."
"The chaos."