La Conquistadora[Solomon, Ulquiorra]

The electrified response from Solomon fell within the expected parameters from the Quincy. Without the proper ability to match her output without straining himself, she watched expectantly as his own attack faltered and withered before the attack itself, and in that final moment, she observed the pattern flashing across his skin as he weathered the attack, the combination of his own natural hardiness and the initiation of Blut allowing him to endure the assault without any actual damage that she had calculated would be acceptable.

"I should very much hope so. From the information I've garnered, I derived that you had been present during the incident with Kurosaki. The gestures involved in this attack were intended to elicit a memory response, to a time when your life, and the lives of those you cared about where in danger." She noted calmly as she began walking calmly toward Solomon with that blade of Cero still in hand. Those eyes piecing as she stared intently at Solomon.

"Do you remember the emotion in the depths of your heart? A desperation inside of you. A voice that drove you toward a purpose. That feeling that 'I must win, or else I will lose everything'?" She inquired as she closed the distance between them, walking on the air, such that even though she was a fair head or so shorter than him, she looked down upon him as she approached.

And a second crackle of light formed in her other hand. A Second sword.

"If Kurosaki were to appear in the City of Lights in this very moment. What do you imagine would be the outcome of such a conflict?" Those cold eyes affixed to Solomon's own, driving home the gravity of her question as her spiritual pressure continued to rise. Intentionally pressing down on him. Enough to make his muscles creak. Enough to make his very bones feel the weight of her spiritual pressence, a gulf which would threaten to swallow him especially in her released form. The spiritual pressure of an entity so much more powerful than Solomon that even in his Letz Stil, he would not stand a chance.

Watching as the man was thrown to the ground, she offered no reaction. Not a scrap of pity or regret. She had ensured that he would be pinned down, to ensure that he feel the weight of her strength wearing down on him. Were it not for the barrier, she would never unleash such energy within a populated area. But down here, she was free to do so.

She walked towards him as he began to speak, however strained an explanation it was with the weight on his lungs. As he painted a picture of destruction and carnage.

"Incorrect." She stated flatly, without any sense of argument or hostility. It was simply a statement of fact.

THWACK!

Her foot would connect with the ritter's face, launching him up from the ground, striking his neck and shoulder with enough force to lift him clean off the ground, launching him up just a few feet into the air before one of those blades vanished, her bare hand snaking out to clamp onto the man's face and force him back down onto his feet. It would be jarring to say the least, and in that instant, he might even struggle to find his balance despite being practically slammed down onto his feet. Wether he just crumpled back onto his ass or managed to stay upright would be up to him.

"Get up. I want you to show me the techniques you entrust with the lives of your friends." She commanded. A tall order given she didn't let up on her spiritual pressure. But that was the intent, was it not? He would have to push himself merely to move. But well, the alternative would be fighting her while on his hands and knees.

He was rising. Good. She continued to adjust her spiritual pressure, watching as he slowly forced himself up to his feet, his body creaking against the strain. Focusing on the output of her spiritual energy as she could feel that energy blooming through the entirety of her frame. And as he forced himself through that thick miasma of her spiritual energy, she made note of the flow of his own reiryoku and the reishi in the air around him bent by the man's force of will.

"Slow."

A comment punctuated by the flash of her Cero Blade across the man's throat. A precise slash aimed to slit the front of his neck without tearing through the jugular. All whilst her second blade tore upwards. Uno Corte.. A thin, concentrated burst of energy shredded up and through the bulk of that thunderous blast, cleaving a path as the rest of the attack crashed down onto the ground around her.

That blade dispersed as her hand struck out to clamp around his throat. Of course, he was not actually in danger, that surgical strike, the control of her energy ensure that those vital blood vessels would remain untouched. But of course, he wouldn't know that. For all he knew, he was going to start rapidly bleeding out. He would have to instinctively switch to blut vene to staunch his own bleeding, That way, he could not augment himself with arterie to artificially bull his way through her spiritual pressure.

A threat of death, and forcing him to focus on defense, so that the only thing working to keep him on his feet would be his own soul flaring against her own. Pushing him until he no longer had to THINK about pushing back against her spiritual pressure. And instead focus on the hand clamped around his neck. Not enough to crush his windpipe, but enough to provide further incentive to activate Vene.

"Free yourself." She instrucfted, as her other sword dispersed, and she pointed her finger between his eyes. He would get to watch in close, frantic detail as a black cero roared to life in his very face. The roar of energy no doubt almost deafening as a deadly attack was aimed at his face.

Pushing him. Threatening him. Perhaps even terrifying him.

Naturally, she had no intention of actually firing through his skull. If he froze up, she would simply have the cero fizzile out and disperse in a concussive wave of blinding, deafening, but otherwise harmless energy.

But hopefully he wouldn't. With his throat cut. With his windpipe clamped almost shut. And with death staring him in the face. She expected a ferocious retaliation. All as she focused on her own attacks. Pushing her control to it's limits. To give the impression of an impending deadly attack. Once upon a time, a man had once commented on how predictable her attacks could become.

Focusing. Adjusting the output. Carefully firing up and then quickly dispersing the energy back into her Encerre rather than actually unleashing the attack. All of this, to construct a charade of merciless, lethal intent for this Quincy. To push him further. Top dig him out of that pathetic mindset.

The mindset that defeat was an option.

The fervor with which he pushed back was, if nothing else, something of note. Admirable even given his condition, as she viciously assailed him. As he struggled against her torrential spiritual pressure, as he forged himself forward and weathered the strain to raise his sword in an aggressive strike. Too slow. She raised her hand and fired the cero up into his blade. That roaring burst of dark energy plunging clean through his weapon, destroying the attack he'd been generating, as well as obliterating the weapon itself in the process as she swung. Aiming to slash him again. This time just slow enough so that he could generate another spirit weapon in time to block. Bulling him, pushing him. Using her own vicious flurry of strikes, stabs, and slashes to batter him about.

Of course, he managed. Those surges of energy, even as she tore into them, broke upon her body. Vestiges of his attacks that when shattered still were flung about the environment. Every time she broke one of his swords, there was the hazard of the broken pieces which scathed her skin. Her own intentionally weakened hierro showing these little trinkets. The faintest glimmer of hope that he could injure her. Even as the speed of her attacks slowly ramped up, forcing him on the defensive, keeping him from trying to build up any sort of larger attacks. She still continued to correct him.

His stance. His reaction speed. What it was he was focusing on. Not just with her words, but intentionally barring him from actions that were too slow or unwieldy.Even as she whittled away at his frame, She continued to keep pushing him. Forcing him to his feet when he buckled, throwing him around when he paused to try and catch his breath. To force that sense of hopelessness in him. Until at long last, she paused and allowed him to stumble away from her. That blade of a cero pointed at the young man as she did.

"If you feel that you can't win. Do you simply plan on surrendering? On giving up your life, and absolving yourself that you and your allies will be wiped out?"

"Well. I don't know about all that." She lowered her blade, and allowed her spiritual pressure to taper off and vanish, her ressurected form slowly fading from her frame, reforming as her zanpaku'to. "Death by combat is not the only alternative. I think there is something to be said about doing what needs to be done, and ensuring that you don't needlessly throw your life away. But it's certainly better than the answer you gave before." She stated softly, the barriers slowly powering down as she glanced at the wounds on her body, and in an instant they simply vanished as she activated her regeneration. Glancing to the side as a few medical personnel moved in to tend to Solomon's injuries.

"I certainly hope you keep a firm grasp on that sentiment. And refrain from allowing yourself to fall to such things as despair. You can ill-afford such things in your position."