Eat Your Maker [Liltotto/Metatron]

It couldn't have been any longer than two days since she fled the camp. Although she hated just up and leaving with little else, she needed to make sure she was safe to be around other people. Never would she allow her hunger to control, but there was always room for precaution - at least until the craving for hollow flesh had died out, which after having devoured several, it finally seemed to subside. That was way too scary; she'll have to tell Ehefra about it when she got back, maybe she could prepare something in the case she had to unleash that power again..

Hiding amongst the rubble, she was trying to clean herself up; some blood had gotten on her uniform and she was coated in dust. No way was she heading back looking like a damn serial killer, but she was sure everyone would understand-

A terrible scent hit her... No, no way, they should've dealt with the most powerful of the forces. It was a scent she was familiar with, some raving zealot of a hollow that had trace scents everywhere. That wasn't good, a considerable threat was still alive... But maybe he was weak and off-kilter after fighting? If any time was good to take care of it, it had to be now - she didn't know how aware anyone back at the encampment was of it still being alive, it would be bad if they got attacked with so many injured.

Calmly, she sought to smother her presence as much as possible; she had the upper hand, she hadn't been spotted, all she had to do was suss out where he was and set a trap...

Like the Shinigami who came before them, Metatron had soundly defeated the Quincy heathens who challenged him. Yet, victory had not been had on that day; nay, all the Hollows and Arrancar he allied with had fallen or fled. Even the mighty Asher, the one Metatron had believed to be chosen by God to lead His forces on Earth to purge all sin, had been defeated and killed by their enemies. By disgusting, vile, heretical infidels who dared to call themselves Death Gods, an affront to the one true Lord above.

What was left for Metatron, Heaven's greatest zealot? Those who've observed his statuesque visage since the battle might be led to believe nothing, in fact, is left for him. Upon regenerating his physical form, the superficial wounds those so-called destruction monks had inflicted upon him vanishing without a trace, the angelic Hollow stood just outside the great chasm unmoving and unresponsive. For the most part. The unlucky few who wandered the battlefield and came across him were swiftly dealt with as little more than nuisances, after which he would return to his vigil. He left none able to report of his existence and presence, not that these monkeys could threaten him.

Beneath the unblemished mask adorning his face, Metatron's thoughts were in constant flux. His first consideration was going into the hole, but unlike Asher and many of his comrades he had not come from the world deep beneath the Earth's surface; he was a Hollowfied human, having been born in this sinful world when Asher encountered Benjamin Davis. Without a home to speak of, the other course of action was continued war with the Shinigami and humans...but he had no army with which to wage that war. Though his zealous belief in himself being the one true chosen one, not Asher, even the delusional Metatron had to admit that would be a tall task by himself. So, where does that leave him?

Enraged. Because of his enemies, but even more-so because of his so-called allies. He had been led astray by Asher, a false prophet. God wouldn't fail, so obviously Asher wasn't chosen by Him. Only Metatron remained. Only Metatron was chosen.

Alone. With no soldiers to lead or allies to call upon.

What to do? Well, there was really only one path forward for him.

Metatron would simply destroy everything.

Alright, there he was. Work fast but calmly; even if he was statue still, she smelled fresh blood in the area, and with further investigation of the perimeter as she set traps, invisible embeds in the floor and nearly invisible wires hung from buildings or other protrusions, she did see the bodies he mercilessly disposed of. Okay, this guy could fly, she'd run into the same issue with ground traps... If she could just disable his wings he'd be forced to operate on her turf... After that it was just a matter of wearing him down til he couldn't keep going. But fuck, he was strong, she could tell just from breathing nearby, but she relaxed her self. This didn't scare her, she had a plan.

As soon as she released, she'd be noticed. It had to be snappy. Just damage it, at least start chipping it away...

"Nodo, Touitsu."

With little hesitation, she'd point the newly formed spear as her energy sparked to life, a ball of light and darkness swirling and compressing at it's tip until firing in the same instance, the light of destruction leaping into being to strike one of Metatron's wings, her voice raised calling it's name,

"Zerstörungsblitz!"