Defrosted [Fantasia, Demonica]

The clone's eyes widened as she looked up to see the demon now only inches away from her, in an instant, overpowering killing intent emanating off of her. Her purpose clear, Fantasia knew what she needed to do; the problem was that it had come so fast, and she wasn't prepared. She barely was able to bring her arm up before she was struck, and a life winked out of existence within the network that was Fantasia's mind. The clone that was supposed to catch her was instead splattered with blood and sent hurtling to the ground, the snow and rock exploding upwards as she impacted the hard surface. The mountain would shake with the force, generating small avalanches on all sides, but managing to hold together still. In her last moments, Fantasia had done all she could to minimize the damage caused to the terrain as a result of the Demon's attack, at the cost of life.

The remaining clones brought their weapons to bear, looking around at dozens of various angles to find their opponent, someone moving so fast the naked eye had a difficult time keeping track of them. They saw as a hurricane seemed to sweep around the mountain, pulling along with it the loose bits and parts uprooted by Demonica's reckless power, but if anything that was only the trail of where she has been, and not where she was. Where her opponent struck next, there was no predicting it, and thus her fist had slipped straight past Fantasia's guard and smashed directly into her face, sounding with several loud cracks of what was presumably bone being broken. That body would fall to the ground without a fight, but would alert the remaining doppelgangers instantly. As the storm of snow, stone, and wood came hurtling at them, a counterforce was emitted to blast it back off the summit, as all of the clones thrust their palms in its direction. An invisible force created by Kido, with no words needing to be spoken, was more than enough to push debris back.

Still, as they directed their attention in one direction, Demonica came from the other with a surprise attack. Ribbons of blood flew into the air before disappearing into the blizzard, while clones were cut down one by one. In a matter of moments, nearly all of Fantasia's clones would be sliced through and sent into the snow face down, with not even a single moment to retaliate... save one. The last clone would turn her head around just fast enough to see Demonica speeding towards her with an open palm. With an unexpected surge of speed, she reached out and caught her hand before it could cut her. There was a splash of blood, which dripped into the snow and colored it crimson, but it was enough. Fantasia had managed to stop the attack, and as she squeezed down and crumpled Demonica's hand inside of her grasp, she realized that her own hand hadn't been cut off.

Fantasia stood there staring the demon down with vicious eyes, holding her in place and not letting go. Her enemy's sharpness was still lacerating her flesh, causing more blood to fall from her palm, but it was not quite cutting through. Perhaps that was enough to make her realize what had happened, piecing together what this meant. And if she didn't she'd recieve a sword straight to the back—a sword that was able to pierce through a centimeter of Demonica's flesh, rather than just stop at the skin. That one sword was followed by another, and another, until there were dozens of swords now sticking out of her back and being pushed into her.

''Your cuts weren't deep enough... your recklessness, your bloodlust... blinded you. That's the different between you and us. You enjoy this... but, we hate this. That is why we aren't distracted, and why we will not fail to take advantage of your mistakes.'' The Fantasia in front of her gritted her teeth and was still squeezing ever tighter, trying to crush Demonica's hand despite the pain she was going through. And behind Demonica? The clones she had failed to cut down, in addition to ones that seemed to be fresh. This was the nature of Repercussions: if a strong enough attack struck Fantasia and was not enough to kill her, it would only create more clones based on the power of that attack. Thus, due to being cut down by near-fatal slashes from Demonica...

...A small army now stood in Demonica's wake. For every one she had failed to kill, four more had risen from the sheer severity of the damage, per. Fantasia was able to tell their exact number: 48, with half of them crowded in behind Demonica plunging their swords into her back, trying to make her give way under the extreme weight of the combined arms. It would be like a small moon pushing into her back. With all these clones now on the field, their power feedback fed into the rest of the clones, hence why the final target was able to stop Demonica's attack with her bare hand, and why her swords were able to dig through her defenses that had previously stopped them in their tracks. Their total power now—with each clone now 12 times stronger than their base—was 576 times that the original.

''Everyone... lend this one your combined power,'' the clone in front of Demonica said, as she used her other hand to brandish her sword. As she called out, the metal blade would begin to glow a molten white as if it had just been festering within a furnace. Then, with the other clones holding her in place with their own swords, she would pull back and then thrust the Paragon straight through the core of Demonica. The spirit of the clones would all come together to spearhead the tip of the weapon, and it would slide into her chest like it was destined to pierce it. The heat from the sword would be overwhelming, nearly impossible to bear, as it burned at the demon's very essence.

This... was the power of justice.

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''Kh... Damnit...''

Fantasia's voice cried out in the emptiness of the still air. The blizzard had vanished, the sky had cleared. Fantasia's body looked upwards toward the open blue expanse, as her body lay unmoving upon the lifeless rock and dirt. There were clouds of dust and smoke floating throughout the air, and the act of breathing was both difficult and painful. The clone would move from this spot, but she couldn't feel her body from the neck down... something had happened to her to sever her connection to the rest of her her limbs, and all she could do is lie down and stare at the sky.

Other clones began to crawl back to their feet, climbing out from under piles of debris. A terrible realization hung on their mind, that several of them had been killed in the absurd explosion that had occurred. Of course, for each one that had survived, more new clones had risen to take their place, but the feeling of loss was not one taken lightly by Fantasia. The nature of her clones meant that they were just like any other person individually, and when they were killed, their bodies would remain behind in the form of a corpse—true flesh and blood.

What had happened? What was this power? This power that had desecrated all life as far as her senses could reach? Fantasia witnessed as the demon had stolen the essence of all living things near her—the plants would wither and wilt, the soil would become dry as dust, and the animals would fall dead on the spot. Then, with their force of life, she would unleash an energy that had blown all of them away like ants in a storm. Fantasia could hardly tell where she had landed, but one glance would be all it took to realize that the upper half of this mountain existed no longer. It was completely... gone.

The girl clenched her hands into fists, driving her nails into her skin so hard that she drew her own blood. Her teeth ground against each other and she could only look at the scene of destruction with utter rage. This was Fantasia's inner turmoil: She had always believed all demons, all hollows, and all Arrancar were the same. She saw them as only horrible monsters, beings who killed and destroyed and were nothing but pure evil. All the same. All the same. Others had tried to convince her otherwise, but how could she come to any other conclusion when she witnessed scenarios like this each and every time.

Those races... nothing but scum... needed to be erased, destroyed, purged. The power of the fury that held Fantasia prison was strong enough to bring tears to her eyes. An anger, missed with sadness at the scene before them. This wave of emotion swept across the mountain and through each and every medium of Fantasia Nevermore. The small army would raise their heads to the sky and let out a wail of pain and lamentation. For a moment... the fight was forgotten, and no attempts at hostility were made. Fantasia could only cry out to the heavens in a painfully beautiful chorus, mourning for the losses that had occurred here this tragic day. She grieved for those without the voice to grieve themselves.

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