A Dream of Destruction (Allister)

Allister's smile returned momentarily as the Reiatsu in the air lightened, and the arrancar began charging a cero in his hand. He knew a battle was inevitable, but playing the honest fool's game was much too becoming of him at this point. Even though it seemed neither side sought death or violence, the situation had forced their hands.

Shunpoing about 10 feet behind the arrancar as the beam was released, his smile ceased once more. "I understand. I did not truly expect things to be resolved peacefully, but it seems I can't let go of silly human emotions like hope. This war is frivolous and unwarranted, but I must do what I am asked. It is the debt I owe. I hope you understand, I too, cannot leave without defeating you."

Using shunpo once more to evade any possible attacks coming his way, now that his opponent had no doubt found his new position, he placed himself around 10 feet above the arrancar, with his pointer finger extended in a half-cocked gesture. "Byakurai." A beam of condensed lightning launched forth from his fingertip, aimed directly down at the blue haired man, that Allister unfortunately had to classify as an enemy. Rather than just leaving it as one blast, the 12th division captain peppered the surrounding ground in the lightning, almost assuring either a partial hit, or assuring the arrancar would use his own high speed movement technique to create a gap between the two, or even take to the sky as Allister had. Either would suit the white haired shinigami quite nicely, as he began mixing two separate incantations, preparing for the next stage of his assault.

"I invoke thee, Mask of blood and flesh. Ye who bears the name of man, hold mine enemy in place, in the abyss of conflagration, so that he may wait at the far heavens...." Withholding the last few words of the chant, as he shunpo'd back towards the ground, he awaited the arrancar's next move. He wasn't going to waste the spells until his foe came into sight, for what he assumed would be a melee attack. After all, using Ceros and the like on a captain level shinigami was a futile effort from long range, and as far as he knew, Arrancar didn't have much else to rely on when they weren't released.

All he needed to get going was for his foe to disregard the incantations and draw in close. The moment the arrancar tried to close the distance, he would finish the chant, and activate the two Kidos, almost certainly forcing the arrancar into his Ressurecion to survive. From there, he could really examine how to finish it entirely, but it all relied on how the other man reacted. As much as he loathed it, he couldn't start slow or hold back to test the waters. He had to aim to end it as soon as he could.

It seemed the skirmish had devolved into something more reminiscent to guerrilla warfare, rather than a one on one duel. To think that two creatures that naturally possessed swords made of their very own souls would spend so much of a battle shooting little beams at each other and running away, it was preposterous.

Despite not being able to detect the opposing arrancar very well, it wasn't hard for Allister to notice the numerous orbs of purple energy flying towards him. The moment the first sphere touched the ground where he was positioned, he was already gone in a flash step. He positioned himself on the base of a tree some feet behind him, standing directly perpendicular to it's trunk, his boots digging into the bark with some sort of shinigami sorcery. As if he were trying to taunt the spiritual world's gravity in the middle of a death-match.

If he were any younger, he may have been caught off guard by the speed of the Balas. However, most higher ups in the soul society were informed of the more common attacks the Arrancar could use, with many of them having witnessed firsthand. Luckily, deduction and creativity were his specialties, so the makeshift smokestorm wasn't too hard to figure out either. The real problem lay in what came next.

Sighing gently as he unsealed his Zanpakuto in his right hand, he waited for the crackle of Sonido to sound among the smoke. It came earlier than he expected, the roar trailing toward his right rear side. The actions would have been easier to predict had he not had so much trouble sensing the man's whereabouts, but Allister was the one who asked that he lower his Reiatsu... Doing so in a manner of stealth only seemed like an ironic way to deliver a twisted bit of Karma.

Relying only on 'natural' senses, the 12th captain was unable to react in time to fully parry the entire attack. Managing to flip his Wakizashi around in his hand and tilt his arm backwards while extending it in a single motion, he was able to deflect the midsection of the arrancar's shortsword as it reached out to sever him, causing it to instead graze the upper portions of his shoulder. The wound was light, but it still bled enough to leave a visible stain on his white haori, as droplets trickled through the air.

He'd be fine, however. The moment the smokescreen went up, he was prepared to take some sort of a hit. His foe was just a bit faster, stronger, and more dextrous than he was. Relying on a purely physical confrontation was going to earn him his wounds, but he needed to draw him in close enough. The moment the roar of a sonido could be heard once more, signaling an obvious backstep from the previous strike, Allister remedied the lack of words in the air with a calm phrase.

"So that he may be judged. Bakudo 48, Tojikomeru." With the word 'judged' the shadows of the trees all around the forest, --more specifically the very one they were perched on-- lurched out at the arrancar, attempting to grasp him by his wrists and ankles. If they caught him, the skirmish would be over, and he would be subdued.

However it wasn't that simple. Allister wasn't a cocky fool, he knew the chances of all four appendages being restrained was a fool's hope at best. That's not what he was aiming for. All he needed was a momentary lapse of movement on his foe's part. The shadows were just there to slow him down just enough for the next bit of his assault to at least partially connect.

Flash stepping away from his position on the tree into one that looked down on the arrancar from above, he flipped his Zanpakuto into a position between his right hand's pinky and ring finger, as to not obstruct his palms. Now is where the second verse that was mixed along with the first came into play. With both hands outstretched towards the area below, he released two massive blue spheres of fiery energy in the Arrancar's direction. "Hado 73, Soren Sokatsui"

With the full verse chanted, the explosion as the orbs connected with any solid surface below would be devastating, likely taking out a large portion of the forest surrounding them. The idea even warranted Allister to Flash step towards the very ends of the forest, standing just outside the blast radius, in the area that connected the Rukongai with said forest.

Damage potential aside, he knew it wasn't going to be a killing blow. Yet again, that was not it's goal. Gripping his Zanpakuto more firmly, he extended it at his side, activating his shikai. "Ameshimasu" The small Wakizashi faded away into a translucent light-blue blade, lengthening to the size of an average katana as the liquid that formed it's make up began to twist and churn. If all went as planned, the arrancar would have been caught somewhere within the blast radius, and the real fight would then begin.

Otherwise, at least the area was now clear of all potential debris or obstructions with which to launch further sneak attacks from, as the trees in the surrounding flickered with flames, turning them into smoldering piles of ash. Musing to himself quietly, he awaited his opponent's emergence from the now burning rubble, eventually calling out casually. "I would really hate for this to drag on, you know. I've toys and trinkets to attend to, things don't usually invent themselves." The words were less of a jest and more of a way to express the fact that his heart was still not entirely in the war. It was a strange feeling, doing something simply out of a self-induced sense of obligation. He didn't want to fight, but he wanted to fight.