Spoiler:
The lone Saiyan never looked backwards as he walked. The West Wasteland was boundless, and a thin layer of sweat clung to the Saiyan’s body; his black and blue armor was heavy and retained the heat of the sun. He idly wondered if that was the end of his fleeing; baked like a kalliös ribroast, left in the desert for the evenbuzzards to pick at. His took a deep breath, not pausing his steady pace, internally flinching at the lungful of hot air. Sand was in his boots now, a minor annoyance that was only intensified by his general condition- all along his body were cuts and scrapes and bruises. Though the blood had long dried, they still collectively sent electric shocks of pain throughout his body. The warrior estimated that he had been walking for approximately one full day- thirty eight inps, to be precise. He wondered what had become of that poor village he had fled.
A Saiyan was raised to scoff at cowardice; but had it been cowardice? he wondered to himself. Or was it just good survival instincts? Or was he just justifying that cowardice he had sworn never to come to? A coughing fit overtook the man, forcing him down to his knees with a wheezing hack. His ribs exploded in pain with each cough, and groaned. The Saiyan placed his hand flat on the sunbaked ground, and collapsed. As his consciousness faded, he saw the sky warp silently, a multicolored aurora; as the Saiyans’ eyes closed, the light grew brighter.
“Slow down, Turles!” The slight Saiyan yelled as he and his partner shot through the sky; Turles cackled, a slightly mad sound, and sped up.
“Get a grip, Tarble! Ain’t nothin’ here, kid!”
Tarble frowned, stopped, and lobbed a stinging ki blast at Turles. It connected perfectly, and the larger Saiyan stopped, spinning around. He tilted his head, and slowly glided closer to the other Saiyan.
“We gonna start that game?” Turles growled. Tarble raised his eyebrow.
“No, last time we wasted a senzu on me. I asked you to slow down!”
“Look around!” Turles roared so suddenly that Tarble startled. “Another planet, more devastation! You think we all came to this universe for a reason, right? Well I ain’t found one good reason yet! It’s all death and destruction!” Turles turned away with a snarl, nearly about to fly away.
“There was a time you would’ve loved this.” Tarble said with a hint of amusement in his voice. Turles stopped.
“Guess you and the dear Prince got it right after all, kid.”
With that, the purple armored Saiyan blasted forward.
Tarble let out a long suffering sigh. Turles was right; this was the fifth planet they’d scouted this cycle, and it was the same story as the other thousand. No able fighters, hell, barely any civilians- just... destruction. It had been ten years since Tarble had awoken on a ruined planet like this one, and he had only barely eked out a life in this universe for his first five years; that fifth year was his first encounter with the demons. A group of purely evil creatures who seemed to be responsible for all of this. They hadn’t killed him, luckily; but his torture was drawn-out, left him a shell of himself. With nothing constructive to do, and with the knowledge that he was inescapably trapped in this universe, he just... survived. That was two years. Near the end of that time, his scouter activated for the first time in many many cycles; he’d set it to a long-range scan, to try and find anybody.
He’d arrived at the site of the large power, armed with his handmade sword. A sword that fell out of his hands in shock, as he found his brother in that crater. Unconscious, glowing with a halo of multicolored light. A light that, incidentally, had appeared in the sky a distance away.
Forcing Tarble out of his reverie, he launched off towards it; it was a bright ball of that light, and it was rapidly descending toward the ground. Pulling up more energy, Tarble sped up, and he arrived just as the new entry crashed on the ground. He landed on the outskirts of the crater, activating the comms unit in his scouter.
“Turles... we got a new arrival.”
He looked down into the crater. Another Saiyan, he noted; but the armor... the armor was ancient, predating the Tuffle Wars by at least one hundred years! The man was clearly in a bad shape, covered in dried blood and bruising. Tarble touched down in the center of the crater; he kneeled next to the body. He checked for a pulse with a white gloved hand. Another hand wrapped around his wrist, and with a gasp, the man woke up. His eyes settled on Tarble, and they widened. With a snarl, his aura flared, and there was a flash of bright blue light.
“Oh, Towa, you genius.” The demon hissed low, his red eyes on the crystal ball. Towa laughed, a tinkling little giggle that reminded him of the finest glass.
“Shroom, you flatter me.” Dark flame danced on her fingertips; it bloomed outwards, stopping just short of the crimson stone ceiling of the cathedral. Images resolved themselves; an Icejinn cutting through their underlings; a Prince becoming King; and finally, most beautifully, a seed sprouting. Shroom felt a tear well up; it had all been engineered so perfectly, so... deviously.
“Oh, Towa, how long must we wait?” He nearly begged; Towa smiled. “Putine and Gravy are so very close to breaking out and doing it all themselves, the lunks! Hearts can’t even distract himself with strategy at this point. And I understand your project is so very close to completion...”
“Oh, he is, Shroom. But Mira will have to wait.” Towa stood, her staff floating to her hand; Shroom bowed in supplication to his Queen. “There are yet more players to be added to the board.” The dark flames shifted, and an image of a planet formed. “It is here that the battle will be waged. Oh...” Towa frowned mockingly, and Shroom bared his fangs in a smile. “They truly believed they could hide from us. Poor dears...” With the requisite theatricality, Towa swept away, out of the cathedral. Shroom looked up at the black flame.
He saw the crown upon his head, and he laughed.
A Saiyan was raised to scoff at cowardice; but had it been cowardice? he wondered to himself. Or was it just good survival instincts? Or was he just justifying that cowardice he had sworn never to come to? A coughing fit overtook the man, forcing him down to his knees with a wheezing hack. His ribs exploded in pain with each cough, and groaned. The Saiyan placed his hand flat on the sunbaked ground, and collapsed. As his consciousness faded, he saw the sky warp silently, a multicolored aurora; as the Saiyans’ eyes closed, the light grew brighter.
///
“Slow down, Turles!” The slight Saiyan yelled as he and his partner shot through the sky; Turles cackled, a slightly mad sound, and sped up.
“Get a grip, Tarble! Ain’t nothin’ here, kid!”
Tarble frowned, stopped, and lobbed a stinging ki blast at Turles. It connected perfectly, and the larger Saiyan stopped, spinning around. He tilted his head, and slowly glided closer to the other Saiyan.
“We gonna start that game?” Turles growled. Tarble raised his eyebrow.
“No, last time we wasted a senzu on me. I asked you to slow down!”
“Look around!” Turles roared so suddenly that Tarble startled. “Another planet, more devastation! You think we all came to this universe for a reason, right? Well I ain’t found one good reason yet! It’s all death and destruction!” Turles turned away with a snarl, nearly about to fly away.
“There was a time you would’ve loved this.” Tarble said with a hint of amusement in his voice. Turles stopped.
“Guess you and the dear Prince got it right after all, kid.”
With that, the purple armored Saiyan blasted forward.
Tarble let out a long suffering sigh. Turles was right; this was the fifth planet they’d scouted this cycle, and it was the same story as the other thousand. No able fighters, hell, barely any civilians- just... destruction. It had been ten years since Tarble had awoken on a ruined planet like this one, and he had only barely eked out a life in this universe for his first five years; that fifth year was his first encounter with the demons. A group of purely evil creatures who seemed to be responsible for all of this. They hadn’t killed him, luckily; but his torture was drawn-out, left him a shell of himself. With nothing constructive to do, and with the knowledge that he was inescapably trapped in this universe, he just... survived. That was two years. Near the end of that time, his scouter activated for the first time in many many cycles; he’d set it to a long-range scan, to try and find anybody.
He’d arrived at the site of the large power, armed with his handmade sword. A sword that fell out of his hands in shock, as he found his brother in that crater. Unconscious, glowing with a halo of multicolored light. A light that, incidentally, had appeared in the sky a distance away.
Forcing Tarble out of his reverie, he launched off towards it; it was a bright ball of that light, and it was rapidly descending toward the ground. Pulling up more energy, Tarble sped up, and he arrived just as the new entry crashed on the ground. He landed on the outskirts of the crater, activating the comms unit in his scouter.
“Turles... we got a new arrival.”
He looked down into the crater. Another Saiyan, he noted; but the armor... the armor was ancient, predating the Tuffle Wars by at least one hundred years! The man was clearly in a bad shape, covered in dried blood and bruising. Tarble touched down in the center of the crater; he kneeled next to the body. He checked for a pulse with a white gloved hand. Another hand wrapped around his wrist, and with a gasp, the man woke up. His eyes settled on Tarble, and they widened. With a snarl, his aura flared, and there was a flash of bright blue light.
///
“Oh, Towa, you genius.” The demon hissed low, his red eyes on the crystal ball. Towa laughed, a tinkling little giggle that reminded him of the finest glass.
“Shroom, you flatter me.” Dark flame danced on her fingertips; it bloomed outwards, stopping just short of the crimson stone ceiling of the cathedral. Images resolved themselves; an Icejinn cutting through their underlings; a Prince becoming King; and finally, most beautifully, a seed sprouting. Shroom felt a tear well up; it had all been engineered so perfectly, so... deviously.
“Oh, Towa, how long must we wait?” He nearly begged; Towa smiled. “Putine and Gravy are so very close to breaking out and doing it all themselves, the lunks! Hearts can’t even distract himself with strategy at this point. And I understand your project is so very close to completion...”
“Oh, he is, Shroom. But Mira will have to wait.” Towa stood, her staff floating to her hand; Shroom bowed in supplication to his Queen. “There are yet more players to be added to the board.” The dark flames shifted, and an image of a planet formed. “It is here that the battle will be waged. Oh...” Towa frowned mockingly, and Shroom bared his fangs in a smile. “They truly believed they could hide from us. Poor dears...” With the requisite theatricality, Towa swept away, out of the cathedral. Shroom looked up at the black flame.
He saw the crown upon his head, and he laughed.