Chapter 4 Thrilling Battle of Wits
"Huff… hah… huff…"
After running for an indeterminate amount of time, Sombravida finally reached his limit. His legs buckled, and he collapsed behind a jagged slab of pale rock, his chest heaving violently as dry air tore in and out of his lungs. Every breath burned.
He couldn't take another step.
"Damn it… I didn't expect this…" Sombravida forced himself to stay conscious, pressing his back against the cold stone. "I've only been here for a short while, and I've already been injured this badly. If that brute had been even a little faster… I'd be dead."
His thoughts were sluggish, weighed down by exhaustion and blood loss. He had fled blindly, driven purely by instinct, and now he had no idea where he was. The endless desert of Hueco Mundo looked the same in every direction—white sand, pale rock, and a sky frozen in eternal twilight.
"I need a place to recover. Now."
Although his injuries were severe, Sombravida knew better than to immediately focus on regeneration. In his current state, stopping in the open would be suicide. Even a slightly stronger Hollow wandering by could kill and devour him without effort.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his battered body back into motion.
Every step sent pain coursing through him, but Sombravida moved carefully, alert to every fluctuation in the air, every faint trace of foreign spiritual pressure. In Hueco Mundo, danger could appear the moment one let their guard down.
After nearly an hour of cautious travel, he finally found what he was looking for—a shallow depression shielded by eroded rock formations. The terrain dipped inward, blocking most of the wind and obscuring sightlines.
Sombravida paused, extending his perception outward. No spiritual pressure nearby. No movement.
Only then did he relax—slightly.
Using his intact left hand, he slowly dug into the sand, carving out a narrow pit just deep enough to conceal his body. The white sand shifted easily beneath his fingers.
Hueco Mundo's sand, formed entirely from condensed spiritual particles, allowed air to pass through without resistance. Suffocation wasn't a concern. There were even rumors that this sand was created from the remnants of fallen Hollows, ground down over countless years—but Sombravida didn't care whether that was true or not.
Lowering himself into the pit, he buried his body beneath the sand, leaving only a faint outline.
"My body's in bad shape… I don't know how much I'll recover during hibernation."
The moment he stopped resisting, exhaustion surged over him like a tide.
All Hollows possessed some degree of regeneration, but regeneration alone didn't guarantee speed. Only higher-ranked Hollows—Gillian-class or above—could achieve high-speed regeneration. Sombravida, at his current level, could only rely on slow recovery fueled by his meager spiritual power.
His thoughts faded.
Darkness swallowed him.
"…ROAR!!"
A thunderous bellow ripped through the desert.
Sombravida's eyes snapped open.
In a burst of motion, he erupted from the sand, leaping backward as his senses locked onto the source of the sound. His gaze snapped forward—and froze.
Standing less than twenty meters away was a massive Hollow resembling a buffalo. Nearly two meters tall, its body was thick and muscular, its mask dominated by two jagged, bone-white horns that curved forward menacingly.
Its hooves scraped against the sand as it pawed the ground, sand spraying outward.
Sombravida's mind cleared instantly.
"A buffalo-type Hollow…"
The creature's mask vibrated as it snarled, its spiritual pressure rolling outward in heavy waves. It wasn't a Menos, but among ordinary Hollows, it was clearly high-ranking.
Judging by its behavior, it had either sensed Sombravida's spiritual pressure while he was dormant—or returned to find its territory occupied.
Either way, it had decided to eat him.
Sombravida landed lightly and slid backward, creating distance as he assessed himself.
His right arm had recovered far more than expected. The fractured bones had mostly healed, and while the bone blades weren't fully restored, short protrusions had regrown from his ring and little fingers. His index and middle finger blades remained intact, and the broken blade on his thumb had healed cleanly.
Not perfect—but usable.
"It looks like I slept longer than I thought…"
Even so, Sombravida knew better than to underestimate his opponent. This Hollow's raw spiritual pressure exceeded his own, and its physical strength and speed were likely superior as well.
But it was a beast.
No tactics. No restraint. Only instinct.
And in Hueco Mundo, intelligence could be deadlier than brute force.
"Think you can eat me?" Sombravida lowered his stance, muscles coiling. "Try it."
"MOOO!!!"
The buffalo Hollow charged.
The ground trembled as it surged forward, its speed terrifying—far faster than any normal beast. But Sombravida had already moved.
He sidestepped at the last moment, the horns slicing through empty air. The Hollow thundered past him, unable to stop immediately.
Sombravida dropped to one knee, eyes tracking every movement.
The beast turned with an enraged snort and charged again.
Once more, Sombravida evaded—cleanly.
A third charge followed, but this time, something was different.
Its speed dropped slightly.
"Tired already?"
The thought flashed through Sombravida's mind—but he discarded it instantly.
Too soon.
This wasn't exhaustion.
It was bait.
The moment Sombravida dodged, he kicked off the ground again without hesitation.
The timing was perfect.
The buffalo Hollow abruptly halted, reared up, and slammed its forehooves down where Sombravida would have been. The impact sent sand exploding outward.
Sombravida twisted midair and landed safely to the side.
The beast roared in frustration, throwing its head back.
"Now."
Sombravida lunged forward and drove his left fist straight into the Hollow's skull.
Thud.
The impact reverberated through his arm. Bone cracked—but not enough.
Sombravida immediately retreated, sliding back to a safe distance.
Pain flared in his left hand. The keratin layer coating his fist had shattered, while the Hollow's mask showed only a shallow fracture.
"…I screwed up." Sombravida clicked his tongue. "This isn't flesh. It's a Hollow."
The buffalo Hollow's rage exploded.
Its mask was damaged—insulted—and that alone was enough to drive it into madness.
"MOOO!!!"
It charged again, faster than before, abandoning all caution.
Sombravida straightened, his expression cold.
"Good. Lose your head."
As the Hollow closed in, Sombravida dodged left, channeling every remaining ounce of spiritual power into his right claw.
He slashed.
The sharpened bone blade cut cleanly into the Hollow's flank, tearing through hide, muscle, and bone in a single fluid motion.
Blood erupted.
The massive body staggered, then collapsed.
The battle was over.
Sombravida approached the dying Hollow as it let out weak, broken whimpers.
In Hueco Mundo, mercy didn't exist.
Only strength.
Raising his claw, Sombravida severed its throat in one swift motion. As spiritual particles began to disperse, he tore off the mask and devoured it without hesitation.
Only after retreating into a weathered rock wall and sealing himself inside did he finally exhale.
When Sombravida emerged again, the desert was silent.
He released his spiritual pressure—nothing nearby.
Safe.
His body felt… different.
Stronger.
The power gained from devouring the mask had fully integrated. His spiritual pressure had nearly doubled, pushing him firmly into the ranks of high-level ordinary Hollows.
His frame had grown larger. Bone spurs had formed along his right arm's joints, and the bone plating had extended toward his shoulder. The blades were sharper, denser—more lethal.
"This isn't enough anymore."
Climbing a high rock face, Sombravida scanned the horizon. Far off, he spotted a pale stretch of grass-like shapes—bleached trees.
A forest.
"There will be stronger prey there… and stronger enemies."
With a low laugh, Sombravida leaped from the cliff and sprinted toward the distant jungle.