In the desolate sands of Hueco Mundo, under a pale, eternal moon, a lone Hollow wandered through the dunes. His name was Vexacion, a being feared for his strength and cunning, yet haunted by memories he couldn’t quite grasp. His mask was jagged and imposing, cracked ever so slightly across the brow, revealing hints of the humanity that once lived beneath. His hollow hole pulsed faintly, a reminder of the emptiness within him.

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Vexacion had once been a man. He didn’t remember much—only fleeting images of a life consumed by betrayal and greed, shadows of family he couldn’t name, and a gnawing rage that remained after death. It was that very rage that had transformed him into a Hollow.