—— The aftershock of colliding Ceros still danced in the air, leaving a shimmer of residual destruction across the battlefield. But to Grimmjow, that chaos was home. The thrill of it was enough to crack his lips into a wolfish smirk, not in search of an opening, but to make one before ——

—— the smoldering plume of smoke broke apart.

Even as the pressure cleared between them, the grin on Grimmjow’s face hadn’t dulled in the slightest. “ You two’re real damn cute when you try at the same time. ”

The rotation of his lower body masked the vanish. Sonido wasn’t used for ——

—— escape — it was a strike disguised as movement, and Grimmjow reemerged with velocity already bleeding from his limbs. By the time it echoed he ceased existing anywhere else but behind his enemy’s jaw.

As his right arm tore through the pocket of distance that once separated them ——

—— fired like a battering ram, shoulder pitched over his hip, with the full twist of his waist behind it. Knuckles plunged against Starrk’s jawline, connecting beneath the hinge and traveling through muscle and nerve with a jarring crack. Force didn’t stop at the surface, it transferred through ——

—— shifting Starrk’s skull and compromising his neck alignment on contact.

Another step chased behind it, twisting upon the pivot of his left foot, his torso, hips, and right leg moved in unified tandem. Centrifugal force coursed through his structure as the right leg ——

—— extended into a short-range thrust kick. Sixta’s boot caving into Starrk’s chest like a piston, his entire lower body driving into the kick with the express purpose of creating distance and lifting Starrk off the sand, launching him like wreckage from an explosion ——

—— Primera’s form buckled midair, hurtling backwards straight into Harribel.

The collision knocked her back two steps, forced her to brace as Starrk's weight barreled into her.
Their bodies tangled for half a second before she absorbed the collision, separating them under the jostled pressure ——

—— " Heh … y’feel that? it wasn’t just the sound of my sonido, that crack was your jaw tryin’ to remember where the rest of your face went. Two-for-one special. Wanna line up again? "

—— " Heh … y’feel that? it wasn’t just the sound of my sonido, that crack was your jaw tryin’ to remember where the rest of your face went. Two-for-one special. Wanna line up again? "

—— Primera’s form buckled midair, hurtling backwards straight into Harribel.

The collision knocked her back two steps, forced her to brace as Starrk's weight barreled into her.
Their bodies tangled for half a second before she absorbed the collision, separating them under the jostled pressure ——

—— extended into a short-range thrust kick. Sixta’s boot caving into Starrk’s chest like a piston, his entire lower body driving into the kick with the express purpose of creating distance and lifting Starrk off the sand, launching him like wreckage from an explosion ——

—— shifting Starrk’s skull and compromising his neck alignment on contact.

Another step chased behind it, twisting upon the pivot of his left foot, his torso, hips, and right leg moved in unified tandem. Centrifugal force coursed through his structure as the right leg ——

—— fired like a battering ram, shoulder pitched over his hip, with the full twist of his waist behind it. Knuckles plunged against Starrk’s jawline, connecting beneath the hinge and traveling through muscle and nerve with a jarring crack. Force didn’t stop at the surface, it transferred through ——

—— escape — it was a strike disguised as movement, and Grimmjow reemerged with velocity already bleeding from his limbs. By the time it echoed he ceased existing anywhere else but behind his enemy’s jaw.

As his right arm tore through the pocket of distance that once separated them ——

—— the smoldering plume of smoke broke apart.

Even as the pressure cleared between them, the grin on Grimmjow’s face hadn’t dulled in the slightest. “ You two’re real damn cute when you try at the same time. ”

The rotation of his lower body masked the vanish. Sonido wasn’t used for ——

—— The aftershock of colliding Ceros still danced in the air, leaving a shimmer of residual destruction across the battlefield. But to Grimmjow, that chaos was home. The thrill of it was enough to crack his lips into a wolfish smirk, not in search of an opening, but to make one before ——