Fairy Tail: Shinigami

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[The Soul Palace.]

[Third Person. POV.]

Ichibe Hyosube, the monk who calls the real name, leaned heavily against the cold, wall of the Soul King Palace. His once-immaculate robes were torn and stained with blood, his blood, a vivid testament to the ferocity of the battle that had just transpired. Around him, scattered across the marble floor, lay the defeated forms of his fellow Royal Guard members. Each of them, once symbols of unmatched strength and resilience, now lay motionless, their efforts to halt the unstoppable force of the Soul King proving futile.

They knew that the moment the Soul King had become their enemy, defeat had become an unavoidable fact, but to think despite working together they weren't even able to hurt their foe, it was disheartening, to say the least.

Around the room, the air was thick with the scent of blood, and destruction, the silence in the aftermath of the one sided battle, almost deafening. Ichibe's breaths came in labored gasps, his body wracked with pain from wounds that would have felled any lesser being. His eyes, usually so sharp and perceptive, now bore a haunted look, reflecting on what would happen now. 

Ichibe had never considered himself a good person, on the contrary, after all, he was known as the Most Evil Shinigami for a reason, but despite this... there were certain things he wanted to preserve, and now... these things he had sought to preserve, for his own motives or not, were beyond his reach to protect.

"Why... after all this years," Ichibe leaned against a wall, his body trembling with exhaustion. Blood dripped from his torn sleeve and pooled on the ground, adding to the growing stain on his chest. As he reflected on his battle with the Soul King, a battle that had lasted all but one minute... taking his right arm, and a big portion of his torso.

Thousands of years, without saying a word, without moving, without giving any signs of life... and all of a sudden, their linchpin sought destruction. This was a fact Ichibe couldn't comprehend, not at all.

Outside the room, through a gaping hole in the wall, a remnant of their futile struggle, the Soul King stood. He had been there for almost an hour, making no signs of movement or intend. He was simply gazing down at the world below, as if giving it one last look before destroying it all.

Ichibe watched him, an uneasy feeling gripping his heart, or whatever remained. The Soul King, the linchpin of their universe, now stood as the harbinger of its potential destruction. There was no malice in his posture, no triumphant gloating over his victory. 

He simply stood there, silent and still, his gaze seemingly piercing through the fabric of reality itself. 

The aged monk pushed himself away from the wall, ignoring the protest of his battered body. He took a tentative step forward, his eyes never leaving the figure of the Soul King. The distance between them was more than physical; it was a chasm of power and understanding that Ichibe knew he could never bridge.  

"Why... why now?" Ichibe called out, his voice a hoarse whisper, "You could've stopped us anytime, you could've killed us anytime, you let us win that time... so why now?" 

But the Soul King offered no response, no acknowledgment. He simply remained as still as a statue, contemplating the fate of the world he oversaw.

Seeing no response from the King, or point in trying to talk with it. Ichibe closed his eyes, seeing Adam and Yhwach, preparing... he had to admit, it was quite the bizarre look, natural enemies, opposite forces, trying to stop the unstoppable.

He could see they were tired... exhausted, perhaps that was why the Soul King hadn't attacked, to let them try and stop him. As futile as it was, perhaps the Soul King wanted them to die without regrets, a laughable thought, but as good as any at this point, he supposed.

He could see Yhwach telling Adam that even together, they stood no chance. A very realistic outlook.

He could see the Quicy King telling him about Ikomikidomoe, the blade that held the strongest Hollow to have ever existed. Ichibe could see the use of such power, seeing the Soul King had no real dominion over hollows, in fact, his existence was a direct response to the Hollow's existence, yet... he had to be realistic, even with Ikomikidomoe, their chances were zero.

But, if everything was crumbling down... why not give it a shot? It's not like he had anything else to lose, he was dying, and so was this universe.

Coughing up some blood, Ichibe moved with purpose, his steps echoing softly on the stone floor as he walked past the Soul King, reaching the vault a few meters away from the motionless God that continued to gaze at the world below, weakly the monk stood before the vault's massive door, moving his hand to the lock. The lock in question, was a complex mechanism that required not a key but the spiritual pressure of a member of the Royal Guard. 

Soon enough, the door groaned open, revealing the sanctum that housed the relics and artifacts of immense power, accumulated over millennia. Most of them, items that Ichibe and the rest of the Zero Squad had deemed far too dangerous, at least for the order he sought to preserve.

None of that mattered now, though.

The air inside the vault was thick with the weight of history. Each item within had its own story, its own legacy, its own use, but none of them were nearly as powerful as the one Ichibe was looking: Ikomikidomoe. 

A blade, holding the strongest hollow to have ever existed, one so strong, that without Ichimonji at his side, Ichibe would've lost. Even now, after all this time, the beast was just as strong as the day the monk had sealed it away. 

But strength matter very little in the face of the Soul King, he was a true transcendent being, one that was beyond such things, like strength.

Coughing some more, Ichibe reached out, his hand trembling slightly, not from fear, but from the injures on his body. As his fingers wrapped around the hilt, a jolt of hostile energy coursed through him, a connection forming between him and the ancient hollow that was Ikomikidomoe, a threat.

Ichibe chuckled, he supposed Ikomikidomoe was well within his right to hate him. After all, it was the monk who had defeated him, sealed him, and taken away his real name. But as amusing as Ikomikidomoe's hatred was for the old monk, time was running out. 

Sure, he had no hopes whatsoever the sons of the King would be able to stop their father. But again... why not? 

If there was nothing else to do, and nothing you can do, you might as well try everything, and see how the pieces fall. It's not like it will affect the outcome anyhow.