Dragonball M, Chapter 2: Lighthouse! Across the Shores of Shattered Time!

[Lord Falcon]

After its brief conversation, the Archon of Gaineamh reappeared next to its sibling and offered an amused chuckle.

<This should prove entertaining now, at the least ... watching the angry one chip away at a hill ... perhaps I can use what is shaved off to replenish what the child took ...>

The Ice Elemanti turned toward its kin, and offered what amounted to a sigh.

<Should she fail ?>

The Sand Elemanti shrugged its 'shoulders', and turned its eyes toward the battle to come.

<Then we will have been freed from our long boredom, at least a little while.>

And despite disagreeing with the mindset of its sibling, the Archon of Oighear had to admit that it wasn't quite wrong. This was certainly far more amusing than it might have given credit for ... though there was another matter she was far more interested in bearing witness to.

<At the least I hope it is finished soon ... there is a much more interesting conflict soon to start.

And in the distance, if one turned their ear to listen, could be heard the rumbling of thunder ...



With a surprisingly quick swing of its massive arm, the Archon of Cloche shattered the summoned stalagmites and sent dozens, upon dozens of shards barreling toward Sarada ...



... only for them to miss as the girl activated her reflexive evasion.

Somewhat startled by this, the Elemanti was too slow to respond when several blasts were fired, and as they whipped around its massive limbs and struck it from behind; a grating sound could be heard as its foundations where cracked. Not wholly set to topple quite yet however, the Archon lifted its massive legs and with a single step caused the ground around it to flex and buckle as a shockwave with force enough to kick up a sandstorm -- full of stony debris -- that began to swirl around it.

A makeshift barrier of sorts, it seemed ... The Lord of Stone was slow ... yet it was far from stupid.

Asha'rah was late. Tardiness was often hardly a noticeable flaw in an immortal, at least to other immortals. Time was something of which they enjoyed abundance. But in this case, her lateness was cause for mild remorse, necessary though it had been. When she had learned from Sarada where she and Meagan were heading, to Ilargi's planet in search of Ishtar, she had been preoccupied. She had promised to follow them shortly. Apparently, not shortly enough. The search party had made planetfall already, and were engaged in battle with...forces of nature? Primordial elementals? Ishtar would surely have mentioned such folk if they had existed upon Ilargi's planet at the time. They were something new. And they were attacking anyone who landed.

In another time, in another life, Asha'rah would have let the conflict play out. Gods should not lightly interfere in the affairs of mortals, lest the growth of the latter be stunted. But these were not normal times, and Asha'rah was not the God of Creation anymore. For ten long minutes, Asha'rah meditated by the sun. It blazed with unapologetic brilliance, just as it had for millions of years, and she reached out to this this shining beacon of creation's glory. She called upon it, gathering all the energy she could into a single, massive ball. The Kami Dama. She had developed this technique to lay siege to divine fortresses, to punch through the defenses of Zeno's palace itself. There was no subtlety to it, no quick flourishes of hand. It was not a technique suitable for pitched battle. All it required was a connection to creation, concentration, and time.

The greater the availability of creation's energies, the faster she could draw upon them. The more time she had, the more powerful the kami dama that could be mustered. And now, she was ready. The Kami Dama crackled with energy, sending impossible rumbles through the void of space. Travelling past the ruins of Ilargi, Asha'rah looked down upon its anchor planet, zeroing in on the approaching threat. A rumbling, thunderous thing on the horizon, as if a storm cloud made manifest. Then, from orbit, she hurled the captured energies of a sun upon that which would do her friends harm.

[MrSandman]

The heat on the stoves were set to low, to let the stews bubble. The pressure cooker was off. The crock pot would need a few more hours. The oven would be cooling down. Zaofan, covered in flour and sugar, sat on a chair leaned against the wall, in a slight nap. On the table, a book of maps with the page turned to the Paoza Mountains, a course charted.

"ZzzzzZZZzzzao..."

Just then, hearing the gentle rapping at the kitchen door, Zaofan blurts out, "Roasted boar!"

Hm. He looks for the time, somewhat surprised that he dozed off in the first place. A little groggy, he goes for a glass of water. He takes a sip, but then hears the door close suddenly. "What? Who's there? Erosa, is that you?"

In response, the rapping at the door continued for another few moments before falling silent.....follow then by something large scraping against the outside of the door.

"...Zaofan..." A muffled voice called to him from outside. ".....I want to come in....."

[MrSandman]

As it so happened, Asha'rah was on the lookout, to check if Arthur had returned, or failing that Eva's search for him. The one who had taken him was possibly Auroc, but there was no real evidence one way or the other as yet, so far as she knew.

So it was that when ki signatures flared into existence, transported from one point in creation to another via instant teleportation, that Asha'rah sensed them. As well as...something other. Something she had only the memory of encountering once before. Parsic? No, it did not feel quite like the familiars of Etrina's father. Yet much closer to Parsic than any creature of creation she knew of. From the void then. What did the void want here?

She floated towards the new presences to find out.

Following the trail led Asha'rah to the open door to one of the lookout side chambers. Inside, Cthylla was in the process of conjuring some large spherical image of a star field...and though she made no move to greet her, something in the voidlings stance told Asha'rah that she was aware of her presence.

"....yes....this will do." Cthylla stepped back and the image in the sphere seems to contract until it showed a much more more expansive view of the universe...and almost outsider like perspective. "Ahh yes....welcome, great one." Cthylla turned to face Asha'rah and adjusted the smile of her suit into one a welcoming one. "I was told you would be here soon, but it seems the pace at which things work within a sphere are much more rapid then I am used too. Please...enter when you are satisfied, I have some things I wish to discuss."

[Lord Falcon]

Following the trail led Asha'rah to the open door to one of the lookout side chambers. Inside, Cthylla was in the process of conjuring some large spherical image of a star field...and though she made no move to greet her, something in the voidlings stance told Asha'rah that she was aware of her presence.

"....yes....this will do." Cthylla stepped back and the image in the sphere seems to contract until it showed a much more more expansive view of the universe...and almost outsider like perspective. "Ahh yes....welcome, great one." Cthylla turned to face Asha'rah and adjusted the smile of her suit into one a welcoming one. "I was told you would be here soon, but it seems the pace at which things work within a sphere are much more rapid then I am used too. Please...enter when you are satisfied, I have some things I wish to discuss."

The lady inside was dark-skinned, but not in a sun-kissed way like Asha'rah. It was clean, unnaturally smooth, as if she had chosen a color palette to simulate what a human would look like. Tattoes of white lines ran across her body in symmeterical, geometric shapes, their significance unknown. She was slender, even more so than Asha'rah, and scantily clad. The fashion did not remind Asha'rah of any community she had come across in her travels. In another context the fallen god might have taken the visitor for an exotic dancer. But not here. And certainly not with those eyes.

The lady noticed Asha'rah's presence, and turned to greet her, calling her "great one."

Asha'rah held up a hand, as if to ward off the grandiose title.

"Not so great anymore nowadays. You may call me Asha'rah, stranger. May I know your name? Your presence reminds me vaguely of a being I met before - Parsic. But you're less...mind-numbingly horrifying, at least overtly.

[MrSandman]

The lady inside was dark-skinned, but not in a sun-kissed way like Asha'rah. It was clean, unnaturally smooth, as if she had chosen a color palette to simulate what a human would look like. Tattoes of white lines ran across her body in symmeterical, geometric shapes, their significance unknown. She was slender, even more so than Asha'rah, and scantily clad. The fashion did not remind Asha'rah of any community she had come across in her travels. In another context the fallen god might have taken the visitor for an exotic dancer. But not here. And certainly not with those eyes.

The lady noticed Asha'rah's presence, and turned to greet her, calling her "great one."

Asha'rah held up a hand, as if to ward off the grandiose title.

"Not so great anymore nowadays. You may call me Asha'rah, stranger. May I know your name? Your presence reminds me vaguely of a being I met before - Parsic. But you're less...mind-numbingly horrifying, at least overtly.

"I am Cthylla of R'lyeh, I am pleased you do not find my vessel...mind-numbingly horrifying. In that I can be assured it is performing its purpose. The inventor served his purpose in this." Cthylla motioned for Asha'rah to take a seat. "It is good that you have some knowledge of Parsic as well, the last to have that knowledge was an oni....and she was far more receptive to my concerns then the others I have viewed thus far. But before I begin....."

Cthylla didn't take a seat as much as float up into a sitting position. "....are you the god of creation for this sphere? my expectations had been far difference in....scale...."

[Cyke]

The moonlight shines across the otherwise thick and lush forest. There is nary a sound other than the moderate breeze ruffling the leaves. An occasional screech of an animal. Equipped with a backpack and making his way through the Paoza Mountains at night, Zaofan unfurls a scroll against the moonlight to check his course. Most other people would camp the night and sleep until dawn to take advantage of the light. Not Zaofan, with his superhuman endurance and multitude of ways to create his own light. Thick forests, dense vegetation, steep rocks, fierce animals, and occasionally harsh weather are nothing to him by this point. The wind flaps his cape majestically in the night sky as he gets his bearings. He puts the scroll away and pushes on.

His quest is to find the Crimson Sapphire Flower, as detailed in his book of alien recipes. The one recipe with Earth ingredients, it seems, would be among the most difficult of dishes to cook. Not just for the complexity and exact measurements, but also in the mission to secure the ingredients in the first place. Rare spices, periodic extracts, and more, there are no artificial ingredients in this mix.

With a flash of power, he senses a strong ki signature behind him, startling him in the woods. He turns and sees a pack of wolves casually strolling perpendicular to his path. A curious wolf or three turn to see him, but then resume their walk anyway. Majestic creatures, these wolves. Zaofan chides himself internally; watching Master Guardian Tao'ro navigate that giant web would be enough to give him the shivers. He wonders if the recent test has made him more paranoid.

A couple hours of hiking later, Zaofan senses another ki signature, more mystic in nature he believes. Until a river of bats flies out from a cavern directly below him and his path. At the very least, he won't fall, but the steady fleet startles him even worse than the wolves. He catches his breath. His ki senses are usually sharper than this.

One more hour of travel passes before Zaofan, caught between two hills, sees the trees blow against the wind, but he feels no breeze himself. The moon becomes obscured by swirling clouds, as if the moon itself was a small whirlpool. He senses two ki signatures this time, closer to his own, finding himself equidistant between them. If it's two raptors cornering him, he'll be ready. But wait, raptors don't have powerlevels like his...! He fires two quick, basic ki blasts -- one to each side -- which cause two shadowy figures to leap straight up in a near-black streak as the two ki pellets impact the hills.

An ethereal echo rings across the sky; Zaofan senses a third powerlevel and he looks behind, and even near total darkness, floating above him, looking down upon him almost in disgust, laughing at the little man.



Reflexively, Zaofan crouches and fires at what should be the head's torso: "OPTIC BLAST!" -- only to see the beam disappear into the darkness, reemerging some distance away and flying to the sky harmlessly. "What? That was a direct hit! "Who-" his question is interrupted as he is surrounded by a wave of a construct of fluidic darkness trying to wrap around him, courtesy of Darkness Manipulation, but he leaps away from its grasp, able to finish his question. "Who are you?" And so involved in the ambush that he fails to notice a flash of light behind him.

Before he can get a response, Zaofan sees giant, armored spider legs emerging from the darkness, each one shooting a blazing Kanedama fireball right at him. Leaping up, he manages to backflip, cartwheel, and somersault to avoid them, letting one explode behind him to ride that explosion into flight. But in his ascent he feels a flash of a fourth powerlevel. Before he can react, he is hit by the full impact of a double-fisted overhead slam to his back, sending him hurtling back down. He catches himself and stops his descent in time, turning up to see the figure that attacked him. A different, larger, more layered figure.



The figure speaks with two gravelly voices. "Zaofan. Hello again, my boy. It's been awhile. I can't say that you look good, though."

Zaofan assumes a defensive stance, and he extends his ki to try to detect the first two signatures, whom he believes are hiding in the shadows. He faces the tall figure. "Wait, how? How do you know who I am? What do you want from me? Y'know, if we're going to keep up this dance, at least give a guy a name."

The tall figure stands his ground, hands to the side. "Hm, the courage to be flippant in the face of imminent defeat. You didn't have that strength when you were a teenager, a mere boy."

He is followed by the floating apparition. "He has spirit, I'll give him that much. But I've my own, too. My name is Shinku no Manto, the Crimson Cloak. And my associate here is..."

The figure removes the faceplate of his mask, slowly. A flair for the dramatics speaks plenty, but he choices his own voice. "...Ryu Shingen, of the Hokuto Shinken House."

Zaofan can scarely believe his eyes. For all his optic blasting days, he finally manages to rub his eyes in disbelief. "Master Shingen! What...?! What is this about?! Why are you after me? I'm no longer part of the school! I've renounced the Hokuto Shinken!"

Ryu Shingen puts his faceplate back on, and answers. "Well, you see, Zaofan. It's not a school. It's a family. The House. And you, prodigal son if I can resort to such pleasantries, you're the one that got away. My good neighbor here Shinku no Manto have taken notice to you. You see, you've become extraordinary. And you became famous. And you're staying that way. That is, of course, to be applauded. But there is so much more to you than just ... your travels and your battles. We would like to know what you know, and, you know deep down inside as the head of the house, it would do me a real solid if you came back to us."

Each and every word grates at Zaofan's voice. He had never known Shingen to be this powerful, or to have this much interest in him. When Zaofan escaped, he thought he kept a low enough profile, was a poor enough student, that no one would notice or care. Moreso, Shingen was a man of elegance, of refinement. The armor, the cape, the spikes... that wasn't there before. Zaofan protests. "Oh yeah? Over my dead bo-- I mean, no chance in HFIL of that happening!"

"Hell. It's called Hell. You can say it. You're a big boy now. But I remember you as a skinny little weakling. No inner strength to truly follow our teachings, to learn our ways, to kill when ordered. I doubt you have the gravitas to stand up to your old master. Or would you like to put that to the test?"

Not one to back down from a fight, and being reminded of his painful first steps into the world of martial arts, Zaofan's fists tighten. "You want to see gravitas? I'll give you gravitas!" And so, he rushes Master Shingen, and at superspeed they begin the dance of exchanging flurries of blows, with Shingen having to fight while flying backwards. They fight at such speeds that they seem to disappear, reappearing elsewhere, disappearing again, reappearing even further and higher in the air. But, with a feint, Zaofan dodges back to avoid Shingen's left hook, creating an opening where Zaofan locks Shingen's arm, exposing his chest. Zaofan delivers a powerful kick to the center of the chest, sending Shingen flying back some feet, the armor blunting much of the force.

But before Zaofan can size up the damage, he's shoved back to the ground by a force of Dark Air, fired by the Crimson Cloak above with an open palm from an extended arm. The Cloak then dives after him, the armored spider legs that make up his chest and shoulder armor opening up. Each arm stabs forward, essentially eight swords -- the Tau Zant -- but Zaofan's own yellow bracers are enough to block each blade, relying on the speed of the Rakan Geki to keep pace with eight other limbs. He fires another Optic Blast at the pentagram on the Cloak's chest, scoring a hit and painfully shoving him back. "Hah! So you're not totally invincible, spirit!"

The upper hand is Zaofan's. Or so it seems.

[Cyke]

Shingen smiles under his mask as he rejoins the battle. "Give Shinku no Manto some credit here. He's not fighting with a full body. But enough of that. I know the Rakan Geki when I see it. One of my subordinates taught you that. For someone who's sworn off the Hokuto Shinken, you certainly like to use our style. But you know, we've improved on that. HIIIYAHH!" Shingen charges Zaofan with the Hokuto Nijyuretsu Dan, to which Zaofan counters with the Wolf Fang Fist
. Dozens of even faster blows are thrown, fired, blocked, parried between them, but a powerful glowing hand thrust by Zaofan at the tail end of that breaks Shingen's defensive posture, creating an opening for the Wolf Fang Fist's coup de grace, a wind up and double-palm blow of immense power, sending Master Shingen rocketing back, further accelerated by a hastily-charged Mega Optic Blast that envelopes his body and shoots him over the mountains. "That's from my NEW masters!"

However, the Cloak says one simple command while casually opening his fingers of his right hand outward. "TOKAN!" Zaofan's back burns with an instantaneous explosion, rocketing him down to the ground. Before he can recover, a giant hand, one whose palm easily covers his entire body, accelerates and crushes him against the ground, courtesy of the Cloak's own Growth Jutsu. With Zaofan's body imbedded in a giant hand print, the Crimson Cloak shrinks back down to normal size.

Zaofan painfully pushes himself off from the ground and shakes off the dizziness. He turns around and sees the Cloak floating there, laughing at him, taunting him. Having enough of this nonsense, Zaofan fires an Optic Blast straight at the pentagram. What he fails to notice, however, is a paper talisman tapered to his cape, complete with matching pentagram. When the optic blast hits Shinku no Manto in the chest, the blast seemingly travels through a portal, emerging out of the talisman and slamming Zaofan on the back, sending him flying into the air. "YEAAAARRRGHH--!" His eyes closed from the sheer pain, he can only manage to crack one eye open and look to the side as he sees a blood red and purple comet streaking right at him. He can faintly hear the words:

"Chou Ninpo: Dai Hinotama."

Shingen launches a large fireball that further knocks Zaofan into the sky.

"Chou Ninpo: Gōkin Bundan Kyaku."

Shingen fires a dozen pressure point attacks, each one designed to reduce the strength in Zaofan's muscles and reduce his ability to strike back.

"Chou Ninpo: Kyōsatsu Shitotsu Ken."

Shingen delivers a powerful, glowing-yellow palm strike to Zaofan's chest. For weaker opponents, the chest would explode. For someone like Zaofan who is both powerful AND a target for capture, his body manages to hold together, but the strain to do so is incredibly draining. And lastly...

"Chou Ninpo: Kaze No Mai."

Shingen speed blitzes the poor lad, blazing back and forth as if he were a dark red and purple streak of light, no recoil, no turns, hitting him for a total of five times, the sixth time a superspeed kick that sends Zaofan from sky to ground. Zaofan, a man who prides himself on speed, who was taught by none other than the Great Wolf Mara, finds himself completely outmatched, outpaced, and outmaneuvered. He struggles to turn himself around, only to see Shingen and the Cloak standing over the crater holding his bloody body. The other two figures haven't even shown themselves yet. And Zaofan can't help but wonder how badly he's failed all his teachers in that moment.

Right before he passes out, he can hear Shingen addressed by the Cloak as the Demon Shogun, before he turns his attention back to the drowsy Zaofan.

"Why does this boy smell so good? AHHHAHAHAHHAHA!"



Zaofan blacks out. Ugh, you're...terri... bull...

[Sub-Zero MKA]

Month Eleven, Week Three

This was not good. Blizz had gotten word that the Galaxy Police was starting to sniff around. The odds of them finding his location and moving in to arrest him were slim, thanks to his deal with Blizzar. But, he wasn't so dull as to believe that his kinsman wouldn't flip on him the very moment the heat started to build under his feet. Their deal was fleeting; even if they restrained from saying as much, they both knew it.

That was why Blizz wasn't going to sit back and let Blizzar handle this on his own. The Saiyan Queen Sarada needed to be dealt with. There was no doubt she had a vested interested in finding him now that the word had somehow gotten out that he was the Tuffles' benefactor. How his name had been given to her, he had no idea. No one but the Appel knew of his dealings with them, and she could in no way remember a word shared between the two of them.

Bah! What a bother.

“Very well. I'll have to tie the loose-end before it trips me for good.” Sarada needed to be dealt with. Permanently.

There was no one better suited for that task than his assassin, Sword.

When he summoned her, his instructions were implicit. “You are not to risk capture. Take as long as you need to, but don't tarry longer than necessary,” he instructed. “When you have an opportunity to kill the ape child, take it. The moment she's dead, report back to me immediately.”

“Yes, Lord Blizz,” she responded in the same robotic tone she always spoke in.

With that, she left.

Over the course of the next two months, three weeks and four days, Sword blended into the population of Vocado, where the Queen lived and did her royal duties. She memorized her routine. Every morning, she trained in a field along with another Saiyan female, the name of which she determined to be Avoca. Such sparing sessions lasted for one hour, after which she returned to the palace to share breakfast with a peculiar looking creature named Ishtar. Her database determined that the blue-skinned woman's race was Oni. Not a word she was familiar with, but not one pertinent to her mission. Curious however, was that Ishtar's power level was close to her own.

Something to keep in mind.

After breakfast, Sarada attended several meetings that lasted a cumulative five hours. The meetings were inside a sealed room, with four guards posted by the door, which was magnetically sealed with a biometric lock. Lunch was delivered to the room. She initially thought that was her opportunity, until she saw that each item of food was taste tested for exactly that purpose.

After the meetings were over, Sarada would then walk down to the garden to converse with the Guardian of this world, Maiz. It was then that she learned that Sarada planned on wishing the fallen Saiyans back to life using something called dragon balls. Curious.

After this, Sarada would have dinner with several friends, including Ishtar and Avoca, then she and the blue-skinned creature would retire to their bedroom. The bedroom was itself also guarded throughout the night, but didn't have a biometric lock.

One night, Sword infiltrated the palace – unseen by anyone or anything – to spy on Sarada when she was in her bedroom to further observe her routine. What she saw was... curious. She was not aware that two females could procreate in the same manner as a male/female pairing. Such knowledge was not pertinent to her objective, however.

Morning rose, and the same rolled by like clockwork. There were, of course, variances every so often, but for the most part, the routine was the same each day. This was good. It made her predictable and it was easier to find a crack to slip through.

That crack appeared on the Day 85. Sarada walked, instead of heading to dinner after speaking with Maiz in the garden, to a secluded room near the back of the palace. According to the schematics of the building, Sword determined that this room was the communications room. “Connect me to Captain Lau,” Sword heard Sarada say.

“Captain Lau speaking.”

!!! Captain Lau was the Galaxy Patrolman leading the investigation into Blizz.

“I wanted an update on the investigation. It's been several months and I've heard nothing from you or anyone associated with it.”

“Ah, apologies. We've found several leads, but none of them have led to anything substantial. At most, it was a lower level worker who could only tell us the exact same thing the previous person told us. It's obvious Blizz knows we're on to him, so he's likely doubled his efforts to cover his tracks. Lieutenant Blizzar has given us several files he's compiled during his undercover operation within Blizz's operation, but we're still working through them.

If Sword were capable of breathing, she would have exhaled a sigh of relief.

Sarada sounded annoyed. “I see. Well, keep looking and keep me posted more often. Thank you.” She ended to call, then leaned over the console. She started muttering things under her breath, none of which were pertinent to Sword's objective.

Slowly, Sword stalked inside the communication room. Silently, a needle extended out of her two index fingers. Within her arms was an enhanced neurotoxin developed by the Tuffles that sent the Saiyan immune system into critical condition, and caused the metabolism to cannibalize the body. It was what killed Parsley; that and the starvation.

With practice ease, she jammed the needles into the sides of Sarada's neck, injecting the deadly neurotoxin into her veins.

“Ah! What the ****?!” Sarada lashed out and inadvertently batted her into a wall, where she slammed with a tremendous crash. “What the ****?!”

The commotion attracted the attention of nearby guards, who rushed into the room without delay. “Your Majesty? What's going on?”

Luckily, Sword's cloaking mechanism hadn't sustained any damage during the attack, so she was still unseen and undetected. As the two guards questioned Sarada, she quietly snuck out of the room and into the hall. Before she left, however, she caught sight of Sarada spasming and succumbing to an intense seizure. White foam bubbled out of the sides of her mouth as her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

“Your Majesty!”

She fell to the ground and flopped wildly like a fish out of water. Then, she jerked one last time, then fell still.

“By the gods! Someone help!”

“Get her to a healing tank! Quick!”

Sword smiled to herself and quickly took her leave. From the looks of things, her mission had been accomplished.

The Saiyan Queen was dead.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

The Saiyan Queen was not dead. That was what the medic immediately determined during his preliminary examination. It was an enhanced version of the same neuro-toxin that killed Parsley months ago. That Sarada received a double dosage spoke very poorly of the amount of time they had to save her.

A few days before she was to leave for Earth to wish back the fallen Saiyans of Turrip, including Princess Parsley, Queen Sarada was attacked and very nearly killed.

While the medical staff worked hastily to bring her condition to something more manageable, the security staff combed over the surveillance to try and pinpoint the assailant. “I don't understand. There's nothing here.”

“There has to be something,” Mato responded when he received the news that the cameras and other security measures picked up nothing out of the ordinary. “Keep looking.” The evidence that someone attacked her was plain as day. The issue was the assailant was invisible, or cloaked in some manner that they moved through the palace without tripping a single one of the security checkpoints.

Which meant even if they managed to save Sarada, there was nothing to stop the assassin from coming back and finishing the job. It was a concern that would continue to vex them well after Sarada was on her feet again.

As they awaited word from the doctors, Mato and Maiz spoke privately in the meeting room. “How's Ishtar taking this?” he asked.

“About as well as you can expect her to,” Maiz answered. “Just a year ago, all my children were still alive. Now, Parsley's dead and Sarada may be close after her.” Despite how sullenly she spoke, she sounded calm and level, like always.

“Don't talk like that. Sarada will pull through, and Parsley will be resurrected in a few days.” Mato smiled, but it wasn't very vibrant. “You'll have all your kids again.”

She nodded slowly, her head bobbing up and down as if moving on its own. “In the meantime, you should take the throne.”

Mato had been expecting it, but hearing it aloud still took him by surprise. The official protocol for when the monarch was incapacitated was that the next of kin would assume the throne until such a time came that the actual monarch could resume their duties. Sarada's next of kin – her parents, Pinach, and Rutaba – were actually less qualified than she was.

“Let's face it: you were always better qualified than anyone else. It's either you or Pinach, and I don't think anyone wants that.”

He couldn't help but smile and chuckle at the image of the young boy trying his best to lead not one but six worlds. “At least we'd have free candy and sweets.” His smile persisted a moment longer before falling away. “Fine. But, only for a little while.”

Maiz raised an eyebrow. “It seems you've grown accustomed to being in the background.”

“Far more quickly than I anticipated. Toma enjoys the time we get to spend together.”

“I imagine.” She would have said more, but stopped when a doctor started to descend toward them. When he landed, she said, “Well?”

“The neurotoxin is aggressive,” he started as he handed the both of them a file with his findings. “We tried several antidotes, included one developed from a strain we took from her bloodstream. Each one worked for a few minutes, then the toxin... evolved. It's evolving at an alarming rate and developing an immunity to whatever we throw at it.” He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “At this rate, the Queen will be dead in two weeks.”

A cold chill gripped the both of them, but Maiz in particular. “Is... is there nothing you can do?”

The doctor shook his head. “No. I'm afraid at this point, all we can do is hope that something works. We could research remedies from other worlds, but that would take time.”

“Time we don't have,” Mato concluded. “Would each attempt at curing her prolong her survival?”

“It seems like it, yes.”

“Then we don't have any other choice but to do that and hope we find something.”

He nodded.

The sky was blanketed by pitch black storm clouds, a perfect visual personification of the situation the empire found itself in. Its young queen was dying, with very little hope of making it. Her natural resiliency had allowed her to survive this long, and would continue for at least two weeks. But, until they found a cure, it would fail.

Peace was fleeting. That was the main takeaway. That, and sins from the past will always be avenged at some point in the present. That Sarada's life was recompense for another man's thirst for conquest wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair, as the saying went, but this seemed especially so. “The girl's lost so much already,” Maiz mumbled as she walked toward the medical room where her ward was floating inside a healing tank. “Don't let her lose her life, too.”

There, she found Avoca, Pinach, and Rutaba sitting there around her tank. It was silent, a far-cry from how loud and rambunctious the two young Saiyans usually were.

It hadn't escaped Maiz's notice that Avoca and Parsley were far closer than they let on. That she was looking at her best friend clinging desperately to life inside a healing tank couldn't have helped her disposition or outlook on life.

Pinach was the first to notice Maiz standing there, when he just so happened to look at the clock that was sitting on the wall above the doorway. “Maiz,” he said quietly. “Sarada's going to be okay, right?”

The boy was twelve now. He wasn't naive and he wasn't stupid. She knew that he knew all about death at this point. Yet, even still, she couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth, even though she knew lying wouldn't only worsen the impact if the worse outcome came to pass. “The doctors are doing all they can,” she answered. It wasn't a lie, even if it didn't answer his question.

He nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer.

She sighed and took a seat near the much younger Saiyans. There was nothing to do but wait at this point, and hope. She hated that her apprenticeship had taken longer than she originally anticipated. Healing magic was a part of her training, but she wasn't adept enough for something this critical. Damn it all! She hated being useless, hated having to sit on the sideline and watch helplessly while someone she cared about suffered in silence.

It was all she could do.

Blizz, that bastard. I know it was him that orchestrated all this. She wasn't sure how Hilda managed to get Blizz's name, or how he found out Sarada knew. Maybe he didn't, and maybe this was his intention all along.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

Days later, Sword arrived at Blizz's ship and docked as usual. As she walked inside, she noticed several of the men comprising his armor were walking stiffly, as if unduly nervous. She hadn't heard anything from Blizz other than his satisfaction at her completing her objective, so she saw no reason to assume he was the cause. Unless there was a new development.

She approached the open space where Blizz usually spent his time. As she neared the doorway, she heard Blizz's voice. There was also another voice. At least, she assumed it was another voice; they all sounded the same.

“...and it only been four years since you were given this task, dear brother,” spoke one.

“Yes. I hope you can appreciate how... difficult it was wrangling the Tuffles together and narrowing their focus enough to actually accomplish something. Years of drifting has reduced their sharp minds to dull blades, it would seem,” Blizz responded. “It takes a certain... mindset that only I seem to possess.”

Sword peaked her head through the doorway and saw Blizz speaking with two other Arcosians. Well, he was speaking with one; the other was staring out the viewing window, his back to them all.





One she knew for a fact was Blizz's younger sister, Cooled. The other she had never seen before, but given how... reverently – to the point of bordering fear – Blizz regard him, she had an idea. Could this in fact be the fabled father Blizz always references?

He was smaller than Blizz or Cooled, and was only in his first form, where the other two were in their final forms. Even still, his power dwarfed theirs. And her sensors detected a well of suppressed power of unknown depth.

There was little doubt. This was in fact Blizz's father, the very person he was so afraid of failing.

“Further,” Blizz continued, “I had to deal with those irritating Galaxy Police. Luckily, my informant has them on a wild space duck chase. We won't be hearing from them until the Saiyan race is long extinct.”

“Hmhmhm,” Cooled chuckled. “That is, of course, assuming you aren't betrayed. Surely you know us Frost Demons can't be trusted.”

“Hmph! I've paid handsomely for his services. He wouldn't dare betray me.”

“Ohohohohoho!”

His sister's mocking laughter enraged Blizz, but he was far too refined to let it show. “Hmhmhmhm. How easy it ease to mock from the sidelines. And yet, you would do well to remember that you are on the sidelines because you were passed over. Father chose me and not you to exterminate the Saiyans. And don't forget that.”

Her mirth vanished like a puddle of water in an inferno.

“Come now, dear sister. Let us not do battle. You would do well to recall that you are sitting at a staggering 75% of your full power, whereas I am only at around 50%, if I'm being generous. Make no mistake as to the reason why you were passed over.” There was the usual amicability in his voice, but his words were tinged with a sharpness that Cooled didn't miss.

She huffed, but was unable to respond.

He chuckled and glanced to his right. There, he saw Sword standing in the doorway. “Ah, Sword! The Slayer of Monarchs herself. Come here and bask in the glory of a job well done with us.”

Wordlessly, Sword did as told. However, even as Blizz spoke swimmingly of her accomplishment – even if the deed itself didn't warrant much – her attention was focused squarely on the Arcosian staring out the window. Something about him, she couldn't take her eyes off of him. Not because she was impressed, but rather because... it was foolish to take her eyes off someone that dangerous.

“Now, all that's left is to await the arrival of the Galaxy Police I lured here. We'll kill them, then we'll be able to proceed as planned.”

Golden Freeza (Unofficial)

Suddenly, with that declaration, the air shifted. There was a menacing malice permeating the air, and all three – Blizz, Cooled, and Sword – noticed it.

The Arcosian at the window had turned just enough to look at Blizz. His sterling blue eyes – which contrasted sharply with his pitch black sclera – pierced through his son like a red hot knife.

“Ah,” Blizz stammered.

Then, the air turned to normal as the mysterious man turned back around. “I see you have this all figured out, my son.”

Blizz breathed out a silent sigh of relief. “Of course, Father. I would never proceed without at least thinking of as many details as possible.”

He didn't respond.

Blizz breathed out again, and quickly turned on his heels. “Well, showtime is very nearly upon us. I had best get ready.”

Sword watched first him, then Cooled hastily depart before making her leave herself. Before leaving completely, she glanced back at Blizz's father. That terrible aura about him, one that made even her quiver slightly with fear. What is he? Who is he?

She had an idea, but she feared even thinking it in case it was true. It can't be him, can it?

[MrSandman]

"There is often a huge difference in controlled an elemental force and generating one via mana. Especially if your attuned to that element. Its one thing to generate a lighting strike via a technique....but when casting a spell your filtering mana through your own ki. Thus, the result will require not expenditure of ki and will be entirely dependent on strength. If you produce a lightning bolt....that bolt is unique to you, and strengthened by your energy....so its not some generic bolt of lightning. Just as...." Etrina opens her hand and a shard of glittering ice forms above her palm. "....This is my ice, made with mana filtered through my ki. If you were unable to guess I have an elemental affinity for Ice....among other things."

The ice breaks apart into a cloud of snow that seems to lazily float around. "With finer control...you can learn you manipulate it long after you cast it. A lightning bolt that follows your commands, moves through conductible materials to strike unseen, split, combine....and so on."

*Bump for teh Tami*

[MrSandman]

As much as it touched Asha'rah for Erosa to admit caring for Asha'rah's happiness, to admit that it hurt her to see Asha'rah worry, it would not be enough. Not for Erosa. It was not enough solely to live for another. Even if it were, Asha'rah did not presume herself so steady a presence as to be worthy of such an imbalanced devotion.

Erosa's own lethargy filled her with...shame? For not striving.

"To love only when it suits you is the love one has for a tool, discarded as soon as the tool is of no use. Ideology isn't everything, Erosa. Not even for me. And you are not a tool. You are a very special person in a deep ebb, and I am here for you."

Before she could say anything further, another made herself known. It was a blue-haired girl, introducing herself as Chrona. And she claimed the purpose of saving both their lives.

"A bold claim. From what do we need saving?"

"If I told you that I'd be spoiling the surprise." Chrona shrugged while leaning against the tree. "...But for the moment, I just need you two to stay put and act like nothings happening...It'll save you a lot of trouble now and me a lot of trouble down the road."

"Grrrr....Don't trust her Ashy. She's one of the familiars that works for Etrina's Papa." Erosa growled, the situation seemingly enough to put the otherwise downcast Erosa into a more alert mood.

[Cthulhu_of_R'lyeh]

Good, her reflexes were then good enough to avoid its projectiles. Even better, her attack managed to crack its limbs. It wasn't much, but it was a start. One didn't chop down a tree in one swing, after all.

However, before she could follow up, the creature erected a sandstorm barrier to force her to keep her distance. Damn it. She decided not to test it, but instead flew upward and shifted gears.

Instinctual Acuity: Offensive Intuition

She peered at the barrier, using her intuition to find a weak spot she could exploit. It didn't have to be a particularly glaring one, just one she could exploit for a brief moment.

It didn't take long for Sarada to find a crack in the armor, as she stared at the swirling barrier of sand and stone.

It was certainly small, a fraction of a second of vulnerability, yet as the vortex continued to circle there was a small segment that was void of anything but sand. A well timed blast could certainly crack it ...

Yet in the end Sarada never gets the chance to use this information.

The greater the availability of creation's energies, the faster she could draw upon them. The more time she had, the more powerful the kami dama that could be mustered. And now, she was ready. The Kami Dama crackled with energy, sending impossible rumbles through the void of space. Travelling past the ruins of Ilargi, Asha'rah looked down upon its anchor planet, zeroing in on the approaching threat. A rumbling, thunderous thing on the horizon, as if a storm cloud made manifest. Then, from orbit, she hurled the captured energies of a sun upon that which would do her friends harm.

From on high, a golden orb of destructive energies parts the clouds above the borderland.

The Archon of Gaineamh, and Oighear are the first to nice this offering from the heavens, and realizing in part what is to happen then; they vanish in a flurry of sand and snow, as they rush toward the soon-to-be site of impact. Though in the end they are, in some way, too late. The Kami Dama cannot be stopped, and as it strikes the Archon of Cloche's barrier of sand, and stone, Meagan and Sarada have but a few fractions of a second to respond before the landscape is all but shattered.

In the end, when the dust and plume of acrid smoke has settled somewhat, those around to see would find something surprising. A crystalline structure of snow, and stone, and sand, stood where the Archon of Cloche had last been seen. Though the quickly-erected barrier had been perhaps, too late; as when the smoke cleared further Sarada, Meagan -- and Asha'rah too -- would find that the Archon of Cloche stood no more. How could it ? With limbs shattered, and the stone that comprised its lower-half fused to the sand-turned-glass.

Though true to the Archon of Gaineamh's words, the massive Elemanti was far from dead.

... and neither were the other two.

Materializing next to their now felled sibling, the pair looked up toward the source of the attack before bringing their gaze down to meet Sarada's own; and for some time there was silence, and to the Saiyan Monarch, it seemed as if they were deciding what to do.

[Sub-Zero MKA]

It didn't take long for Sarada to find a crack in the armor, as she stared at the swirling barrier of sand and stone.

It was certainly small, a fraction of a second of vulnerability, yet as the vortex continued to circle there was a small segment that was void of anything but sand. A well timed blast could certainly crack it ...

Yet in the end Sarada never gets the chance to use this information.

She had an opening.

It was small, minuscule, but it was there. A very small crack in the barrier that would allow a well-timed shot to get through and strike another of his limbs. If she spent time charging as she waited for that opening to unveil itself at the right moment, she should have been able to gather up enough energy to destroy that limb. Then, she would only have to focus on three.

Ki channeled through her body into her finger. The beam would have to be thin, focused, to fit through the crack. Timing was no issue. Trust in her instincts and her intuition would carry her through this task.

Okay.

She was almost ready.

Almost.

Al-

From on high, a golden orb of destructive energies parts the clouds above the borderland.

The Archon of Gaineamh, and Oighear are the first to nice this offering from the heavens, and realizing in part what is to happen then; they vanish in a flurry of sand and snow, as they rush toward the soon-to-be site of impact. Though in the end they are, in some way, too late. The Kami Dama cannot be stopped, and as it strikes the Archon of Cloche's barrier of sand, and stone, Meagan and Sarada have but a few fractions of a second to respond before the landscape is all but shattered.

In the end, when the dust and plume of acrid smoke has settled somewhat, those around to see would find something surprising. A crystalline structure of snow, and stone, and sand, stood where the Archon of Cloche had last been seen. Though the quickly-erected barrier had been perhaps, too late; as when the smoke cleared further Sarada, Meagan -- and Asha'rah too -- would find that the Archon of Cloche stood no more. How could it ? With limbs shattered, and the stone that comprised its lower-half fused to the sand-turned-glass.

Though true to the Archon of Gaineamh's words, the massive Elemanti was far from dead.

... and neither were the other two.

Materializing next to their now felled sibling, the pair looked up toward the source of the attack before bringing their gaze down to meet Sarada's own; and for some time there was silence, and to the Saiyan Monarch, it seemed as if they were deciding what to do.

As the destructive sphere of divine solar energy fell upon the planet of Tatenen, Sarada found herself standing near the spot that was soon to be ground zero: the very spot the stone elemental was standing. She had very little time, precious seconds to move for safety.

Her body naturally shifted from Offensive Intuition to Reflexive Evasion. The extra few seconds allowed her saved by simply reacting allowed her to swiftly grab Meagan by the waste, then dash at top speed to safety.

The sphere descended, and destruction followed. It was absolute in its devastation and fleeting in its duration. The ground under the rocky leviathan was upended, uprooted, and cast outward like waves of water disturbed by a massive boulder. Splashes of debris and rocky earth kicked outward for miles. There was no escaping the annihilation wave.

And yet, exactly that happened. Sarada and Meagan were unharmed, as were, unfortunately, the other two elementals. The living statue, on the other hand, was less so. Whether it was alive or not was unknown, but it was no longer a threat. It had been disabled, its limbs shattered and broken beyond use. Its lower half was glassed and fused with the equally glassed earth beneath it.

Sarada may not have defeated it by her own hands, but she would take this win. She turned to find the other two looking at her passively. Her eyes narrowed as she pointed south-west, toward where Ishtar had last been heading, toward the magma filled mountain range. "Let us pass."

[Cyke]

In response, the rapping at the door continued for another few moments before falling silent.....follow then by something large scraping against the outside of the door.

"...Zaofan..." A muffled voice called to him from outside. ".....I want to come in....."

"Nani...?"

Zaofan cautiously moves to the door, pushing it open to see who's there. After all he's been through lately, a surprise in the kitchen is one less thing he needs.