(Authors note: this chapter is definitely side content that will play out way later in the story, but i recommend definitely reading the second one. This should act as a bonus chapter in my schedule. Two off planet stories)
[Knights of Avalon] (a long time ago)
Wind swept through a long sprawling grassy plane. Unsettling the short grass along with the blonde hair of a father and his son. In the distance a large castle made from stone set the background.
The young boy is Percival and through his innocent blue eyes he watched as his father charged forth with his arm wrapped in a whitish gold light. It was held in front of him and his fingers were tightly outstretched like a knife.
"Do me proud my son" the boy heard his father say. Witnessing the light wrapped arm rise and the fall upon him like a light blade.
He has already been praying for the holy light with all his heart. Preparing to defend since the moment his father moved. That meant believing in and fully accepting the outcome in front of him.
He raised both of his hands to capture this downward swing. Percival's hands were now wreathed in the similar light. It was only his hands, but that would be enough to intercept the attack.
The fathers sharp hand came down, a cutting arc intercepted before it could catch enough momentum. Perceival held it there. The impact was fairly lacking, but the boy understood the danger he successfully evaded.
The moment where he released the tension in his body came after his father pulled back. The light fading at its edges before disappearing all together. Standing there firmly judging his son, the silence continued just a bit too long.
"Congratulations son, you are by my hand, A squire of Astoria." His serious expression melted into something unmistakably joyful.
Percival's eyes lit up at this declaration. Like he had waited his whole life for this moment.
From behind an older boy with straight black hair arrived and scooped Percival off his feet. Lifting him onto his shoulders.
"Brother!" Percival gasps while holding onto his brother's head.
"Now Lamorak" their father starts. "No need to over celebrate, this is just the start. Though I am deeply proud of Percival" he starts to play the stern father, but he joins in with his boys, unable to hold back the joy and relief he felt.
The father, Sir Pell, wrapped his arms around the two of them for a warm family moment.
"Let's head home, I'm sure your mother has caught another wild beast for dinner."
***
Their trek across the plane turned sour as they approached the castle. It was part of the capital Astor. Flags of some golden creature flew high. Today was a special day, once a year it is where squires are created.
And when many die.
Sir Pell turned a blind eye to all the covered corpses. Even the innocent Percival walked by with a heavy heart, his eyes still holding the joy from moments ago.
Lamorak couldn't look away. He saw all the bodies. Each and every one, every single year since he had been made a squire.
Percival watched as his brother rushed over to a corpse that was being placed under a cloth. How the dark haired elder brother of his knelt besides a girl his age. He remembers this girl, Channy, the younger sister of his elder brother's close friend.
The older brother wouldn't even know yet. He was off fighting in a war half-way across the planet.
"Come on son" Percival hears his father's stern tone. Like all the joy was washed away by the waves of dead bodies.
"Come on?" Lamorak repeats. The dam of emotion in his voice overflowed. "and go home.." the overflow just seems to vanish from his voice all together.
"Your mother is waiting for us" he calls out again.
"Lamo, let's go home." Percival calls out to his brother as well.
"No.." Lamorak answers curtly, then continues softly. "No, no…" he repeats in softer murmurs. His hands shaking while delicately pulling the cloth over the girls' lifeless face.
"I'm going to write a letter to Channing" he announced in his normal, albeit still shaky tone of voice.
Percival could disagree with that, in fact he found warmth and respect in his brother's dedication to the friendship he had. So when his father brushed it aside it did bother him a bit.
"Her knight will have already written a letter, or is currently doing so. No need to waste your time with something that is a knight's duty." Sir Pell tells his older son and the sad irony isn't lost on either of the boys.
Why would experiencing part of a knight's duties, as a squire or even below that as a page, ever be considered a waste.
("But that's Channing's sister..") Percival thought, but couldn't say. Channy was a younger sibling just like him. If he had failed to catch the sword of light, then he too would be a corpse under cloth.
Today was the birth of immense tension in Percival's family. Where the disconnect between beliefs, values, and action started. Where the great betrayer had been born.
***
A dozen years later, the wars had been waged closer and closer until they were on the doorstep of the knights of Astoria. The planet they called Avalon was burned and sundered over the course of years of combat. They didn't use explosives and holy energy had yet to reach bunker busting status, but when you fight for so long and lose focus of the future–you just stop building.
That same sprawling field where pages proudly became squires was long burnt and faded. Life literally stomped on until it was a flat dirt filled wasteland.
Now, a tense battle waged on the vast expanse. The day was marred by an inconvenient downfall of rain. Today even the sky was covered in dark clouds. The distant castle cracked and weathered, but it still stood, and so did the knight's of Astoria.
The metal they hoarded in the past couple of years made the difference. While the knights had silver suits of armour straight out of a fantasy story, their adversaries only wore black cloaks with leather bound to their limbs and torso.
The battle had already begun. The downpour washing away all the hot cutting sounds, covered the marching through the mud. The heavy clops of armored boots.
The leader of the party, a tall man wearing a red crested helmet stepped in with his dominant foot. In the next moment he had already swung his knife hand in an arc horizontally. Holding his arm straight for what seemed like a dramatic purpose, in reality he was making a statement to the enemy forces.
No blood was spilled, the holy power that created his blade seared the wound through its sheer heat. The speed he used neared his maximum and abruptly stopping it even just after hitting his target took great effort.
The man leading this company didn't relish in bloodshed. He had hoped this would scare off or cause a surrender. Of course he was wrong and the army behind the dead man charged in just a moment later.
Between the large drops of rain, blades of light cut through the air. The agile flipped and dodged, but the weakest among them perished at one mistake. The leather armor was nothing but paper in the face of the blades of light.
When all that was left was the best of them, the leather bound rebels revealed they had been hiding their leader. One who wore a black metal helmet emerged like they were prepared to make a statement.
One knight charges forward, preparing to meet that helmet-wearing rebel. Something indignant welled up within the young knight as he prepared his blade of light.
The rebel leader's expression was totally hidden by their helmet, save for the glint of an unwavering soul in his eyes. This outcome was well within their predictions, with the opportunity to turn the tide of battle; the key factor being morale.
The rebel army's source of power wasn't some shining golden light, it was the Darkness that hides their intent. On the battlefield both parties were bathed in violence so it wouldn't just be the one fighting the hardest that won. No, the cloaked soldiers needed to prove the current system was wrong by their own merit.
The leader held his left hand to the side, the left was raised in front of him in a defensive position. Little did the knight know that the defensive posture was a miss direct, but the indignation in the hot blooded mind made him refuse to acknowledge the potential in his adversaries.
That limp hand had emitted its own light. A light coming from a dark aura, not the barely translucent shimmering blade the knights proudly wield, but a hidden flickering darkness so soft it was hidden by the pouring rain.
At the last second, when the knight had fully committed to a downward arc, the rebel leader turned his body. The arc swiped the air in front of his face. At the same time his once limp arm shot straight up and each finger pierced the knight's throat where there was an opening. The chainmail underneath melted like butter under the dark aura.
Pulling back, the leader stood victorious to the cheers of his army. Raising his bloodied and now auraless hand in a show that proved they could win. The blood of their enemies wasn't stuck in their bodies, with enough patience and skill, even the most righteous blood will spill.
It only took one moment to change things.
***
Through the raging battle the helmet wearing rebel took the lead in methodically pulling apart the knights main forces. Each knight attempts to step up and defeat each enemy in one on one confrontations only to be ganged up on.
Ages of battle and it seemed like the ridged ways of Astoria would finally be their downfall. That was until one of the highest knights in the order revealed a once lost art.
The first warning should have been the positioning of the knight's army. Not a sudden retreat but a slow purposeful back peddling until the head of the army poked out. Their leader with the red crested helmet stepping forth.
His right hand was stretched diagonally over his chest. Knife hand readying way further back than necessary. Then at the edge of his stretching the glow of his golden holy aura flared to life around his entire arm.
Normally the golden holy aura(a soft translucent yellowish light) started solely around the finger tips of a beginner. The progression from the tips of their fingers until the bottom of their elbows was the normal path to mastery. It's not a prestige or even a natural advantage to be overflowing with holy aura, but many uses of holy energy had been lost to time.
One use of holy aura that isn't lost to time is a difficult and unbelievable art passed down one one of the main families.
"Holy Art: Flying Slash" The knights leader called out, mostly to emphasize the real effort he put into the attack, but also in some false hope those who knew could dodge.
With a wave of his arm he created an arc of golden energy that released at the end of his attack. A horizontal thick crescent the length of a long bus shot out fast enough to catch even the most adept Astorian knights off guard.
The helmet wearing rebel knew and he shouted to duck while diving forward as well
"Down!" He called only to hear the cries and disgusting sounds of bodies being sundered. He couldn't avoid the attack entirely and his helmet got clipped on the way down.
The energy faded a few dozen feet past the last body it flew past.
He looked back first, from his position rising just above being prone. The black sheep's signature dark haired spilling out of the sliced part of the helmet he wore.
Lamorak then turned his attention forward. To the man standing responsible for shaving off three fourths of his army, half just now in his attack, along with the ones he personally cut down.
Perceival removed his helmet, holding it to the side after briefly observing his holy energy dwindle. The cost of his power is more pressing in that second than the acceptance of his enemy.
"Brother!" The blonde knight called out. His voice was no longer childishly high, it was deep and affirming, but despite the years changing him the twitch in his tone proved that he held some level of deference to his kin.
Perceival commanded respect in all the knights, even as they were halted from finishing what had started ages ago. A lull in the battle was broken by another knight, one who formally out ranked the current commander.
"Lamorak, you have been marked as a traitor to the order. Dragging many wavering souls to their deaths." The Man who Fathered the two leaders stepped forth and placed his hand on Percival's shoulder. Calling forth the grim fact of his transgressions.
"F–sir Pell" Percival corrected himself, which due to how off guard it put him, must have been something he rarely did. "I will finish this."
His father turned to him and their eyes met through the gaps. Stretching the lull in this battle to an agonizing length.
"Percival, Allow me this kindness." He said, but there was no kindness in having to fight one's family. The man wanted to spare his son just one more time. "Plus, I'm sure you can tell only the scrappiest of them remain. Don't understand your adversaries. Even if they are weaker in mind or body"
Then Sir Pell stepped forward. Subtly recognizing the truth. His son's holy aura had dimmed after the previous display. He used it as an excuse to take this battle for his own and make up for his past mistakes.
He pointed the edges of his fingers at the kneeling black sheep of his family. Holy aura erupted to life around his hand, shaped into two sharp edges coming together as a flowing point. That golden translucent point targeted at his own kin.
"...." he doesn't say anything as he holds his thigh, pressing off the ground with his other hand. Slowly rising to the relief of the allies he worked hard to gain.
Lamorak watched the blade of light, its light shining off the dark damp expression he gave. The golden light highlighted how wet he had become under these stormy conditions. His hands caked with mud and blood.
"I have no hope for you father. It's your generation and it's old ideas that will bring the end to life as we know it." He said, and his eyes flick to Percival.
In spite of everything, it was the begrudgingly impressive art of war that he learned, even if it was branded Holy, that proved there was potential for change. When their eyes met, they shared a brief moment. A shot in time where they remembered being just siblings. Lamorak missed the nickname, he missed even the fact that his brother always had more talent than he ever dreamed about.
Then his eyes returned to the translucent radiance and how it was wielded by the wrong man.
The sharp light reeled back and then it was thrust forward. The battle had resumed.
Pell's speed was nothing to scoff at. The tip of the blade poked a hole right through Lamorak's cloak as he dodged to the side. Cutting a whole section clean off of it with the lift of his arm.
The old knight had pulled his arm back to his hip. Unlike a real sword, the blade was his hand and it could be turned off. His off hand remaining high to guard his vitals; remaining defensively responsible.
It was a good thing he was, because his son dashed in. A claw–no, the fingers that tore out a neck previously were flying towards the gaps in his neck. He could see the hateful dark aura surging between his fingers.
Pell's own fingers surged in the translucent golden aura. Deciding in an instant to catch his sons, however his eyes were drawn to those vengeful blue eyes for just a second too long.
Several of the old knights finger hot seared through. Failed timing that cost him. The man didn't cry out despite the searing pain in his off hand. He simply pulled it back and attempted to continue fighting.
"Huuur!" Pell put in effort on the next exchange.
The next attack was aimed at the weak points of his armour. Rather than outright dodge he waved his holy aura wreathed arm diagonally. The attack was dodged to the right so the knight swung across in that direction. Going low, Lemorak coiled his posture before flinging himself for an attack.
With a drag of his fingers stiffly curled and glowing black, the rebel leader cut the silver clean off part of his armor's shin and calf guard. Tearing his own weak spot in the old knight's armor.
The moment and low angle meant that Lemorak would tumble before pushing off the ground again. Leaping up high to capitalize on the opening he created. Thinking his father would defend low this time.
Pell was thankful he didn't just lose his ankles, but he could focus on that, because right now he wasn't guaranteed to be protected high or low. He turned his body and swung his aura blade topped arm diagonally from the left side up to the right.
Lamorak spent many years training to fight against what he had learned. Molding his body to combat the very techniques he was groomed to use. Those scenarios where he practiced against his allies, demonstrating for them what to do in this type of situation, and they never wore armor. That meant normal counters like punches and kicks wouldn't do anything against metal plates.
Clang!
He attempted the strike anyway. Flinging his fist coated in that hateful dim aura. The weak aura crashed against the helmet, the energy dissipated in a small plume along with the droplets of water dripping from the old knight's helmet.
Pell took no damage from the attack, but he stumbled briefly. He had been forced to take a step back to keep his balance. Turning his head ever so briefly to regain his composure. Gazing down at his son whose hand looked like it was throbbing red.
Lamorak had attacked out of habit, seeing an opening, only to be reminded of the inequality of their power. Holy power was linked to the user's unwavering faith and so once that is tainted all you can do is accept it and move on. He had discovered that going further into unfaithfulness and accepting that would result in a dark light hot enough to melt metal. A power far weaker than the radiant light that could sunder any wall.
All around them the battles had continued. The knights didn't intervene as it was their code, while the rebels focused on the real goal. Taking this castle would be the victory they needed and defeating this army was all that stood in front of them. Even with their dwindling numbers, there was only one death for every fourth knight taken down.
The rebels' combat strategy is chipping away and wearing down their opponents on the way to make a weak spot. Ganging up came naturally and with it came way more opportunities to cut down their enemies. The knights were opposite to that, where they would make single devastating slashes. Attacks at such incredible and unflinching speed that it ended battles in just brief moments.
The battle seemed to hit a fever pitch.
Then something pieced the sky. A fiery meteor scattered the storm clouds and the rain like Savior from the heavens. It was too bad that this was no miracle. A nightmare roared across the sky.
The war halted in its entirety. All eyes, even those that held conviction to never stop fighting to the last breath, stopped and stared. The orb of fire tore through the sky until it crashed past a mountain range. Its impact lit the horizon and scattered all the birds for miles.
"The heavens Honor our battle!" Cried out Percival. He snapped all his knights out from their stupor.
The battle continued like a surprising phenomenon did not just occur.
Meanwhile that "meteor" was opening up.
***
Crreesh! Catunk! Step!
"The air is nice here, gravity is significantly lower than at home, but the weaker races would have a field day with this place." A woman with a gravelly voice mused as she stepped out of her spherical ship.
Pressing a button on the device worn on her ear she assessed the situation. The power levels were shattered aside from one conglomeration of people.
Beep!
She had to press the button again as her device was constantly reevaluating the power levels in that area. They rose and flatlined over and over. Back and forth, however, it was the fact that regardless of how high the number seemed to jut upwards it never even scratched an amount she needed to worry about.
Beep!
The notification was bothering her so she locked in on the strongest source and shut off the notifications.
The woman floated off the ground briefly as if giving just one more second to her gameplan. Then a second later she was blasting off into the sky and towards the direction of the fighting.
***
Back on the battlefield Percival had just got done cutting down several rebels trying to gang up on him. Taking a glance over the clear battlefield and all the bodies that had fallen. Ever since the sky had been pierced the sun slowly started to shine down on them. Warm rays fueled the knights' resolve to keep going.
In the short distance, the commander of the knights watched the former battle it out with the leader of the rebels. A contest that now flavored the latter. It should have been a sight to behold if not for the figure floating in the air further down.
With his attention on that floating figure, Percival was almost blindsided. He dodged a swipe at his throat section before front kicking the man away. When he looked over at the spot where a person had been overhead and across the mob of warring people, they were gone, so his attention returned to the previous battle.
That figure had landed beside a group mid combat. Two rebels battering around a clearly gassed knight whose body heaved at rest.
The figure was a woman, catching the eye of rebels awaiting the chance to jump into their own battles. She seemed to have an envious look in the sharp eyes that peered over the rest with arrogance. At least the leather bound fighters thought they saw envy. It didn't matter as what they witnessed next shocked them.
The woman with a brown cord of some type wrapped around her waist kicked mud up from the ground as she charged at the trio in combat. Her next step was shoulder checking them as they were locked together. Black and gold aura alike was snuffed out as she sent them flying.
Snap! Crack!
The sound of bodies flying across the ground and sickening snaps could be heard. The attention of both armies in the immediate vicinity snapped to this new mysterious figure.
What they saw was a short woman. Her muscles were compact and defined all across her exposed and scarred arms and legs. The only armor she wore was a chest plate that looked like a type of leather, underneath that was a body suit that had no sleeves and ended Midway down her thighs. Her hair hung wild and spiky across her forehead and down to her shoulders. She also white boots that ended in a dull point at the tip.
While cracking her knuckles the brown cord unfurled to reveal itself as a tail half the length of her body.
"Already whose next" she called eagerly.
A younger Negi. She tore through the battlefield killing random assortments of cloaked and armored men like there was no difference.
"Hahaha" she cackled while flying towards a mob of combatants. Slamming her fist into metal, it broke apart and the man was sent flying.
Easily flipping herself in the air she intercepted an incoming triple assault. Her cackling became an approving smug grin. She whipped her leg and caught all three, the first on his torso and sending him into two others with enough force to break bones.
Crash!
The attention of both sides were on this mysterious newcomer.
Negi was silent now as if waiting for a real audience. The real power levels. Three just south of here, well one had been fluctuating. She pushed forward and dominated the battlefield until finally deciding to force out the leaders
Landing on the ground with her face scrunched up, arms stiff as if coiling her muscles. Negi raised her left hand up past her left shoulder. Clenching her teeth into a wild grin. Closing her fist with the same intensity she then snapped her arm down perpendicular to the ground off the left of her.
"Hyaaaa! Reiyā Blast" She roared the name of her attack as her palm opened.
Energy burst out of her splayed fingers, cracked half doom of light push out. The middle part ejected a small bright rush of light that tore wildly into the crowd.
The yellow energy blast collided through a long line of knights more than rebels. It vaporized all that were unguarded. Slightly slower but the same results for dark aura, however the holy aura fared inexplicably better. Regardless of those who were obliterated or pushed along by the force of the blast, it eventually arched and hit the ground.
Badoom!
***
Percival and his army stood stalk still after seeing what they believed to be a holy art used by some stranger. The commander himself had only heard of things like this in old texts. A cannon of light?
Sir Pell and Lemorak stopped their duel. Both scratched up with neither ready to budge.
"One of yours?" Percival moved to his father's side and questioned the rebels leader.
While they spoke the smoke of the blast dissipated and the woman with the tail continued to hunt down all those who opposed her.
"A flying woman who shoots light. Are you truly so daft brother" Lamorak spat casual sarcasm, insulting his brother like they hadn't been enemies just moments ago.
"None of you traitors could use the holy light regardless. This must be a wife of a knight surely" chimed in Pell.
"Ahuh" Percival muttered with disbelief of his father's logic. He needed the moment to contemplate the battle ahead.
For a second as his father and Brother fight with words he briefly leans along the rebels way of fighting. His own aura couldn't cause such devastation at a distance, but up close he was confident he could cut anything. Then he made another over-step in his thinking; that the flying woman over-used her own "aura" to shoot it.
"Stand back, I will defeat this one." He decided firmly, loud enough for this army and kin to hear.
They looked back at him with more faith than he could ever ask for. Except Lamorak had already decided to interrupt whatever fight proceeded and cut down whoever was strongest.
The black sheep had his own trump card that one could call an unholy art, Lemorak was tired of the holy branding and decided another path for naming it.
"Make us proud son" Sir Pell declared while stepping back.
The army directed her towards their strongest naturally until it became the plan. The woman herself even recognized the leaders power levels and finally broke her brutal momentum. Stepping down into the open circle.
The ground had dried to hard dirt under the warm sun. None really affected by it in a bad way. She stepped down and exhaled a deep breath. The clearly muscular yet lean fighter with spikey locks and carved up arms. The woman spoke first.
"You" she said with sharp amusement. "Leaders of this planet. This is now under the ownership of the Saiyan warrior race. Resist and die. The amount i culled could be sufficient, however i do hope you challenge me"
The trio had witnessed arrogance on a whole other level than they had ever seen. Percival stepped forward, but he, like his father and brother, was stunned.
"Are you saying you are seizing control of our world?" the commander couldn't fathom the idea.
"Smart one" she mocks. "Yes, are you accepting it? Then we move on the next step"
"No" times three as all of them denied her.
"Duel me now monster woman" commanded Percival as he looked down into the eyes of this short stack with the power to level a town house.
"Duel, Like one on one? You have those here" she chuckled and then licked her lips. "Sure why not. Which one of you will fight me"
Percival again took the lead. That signalled Lemorak and Sir Pell to step back. A mix of the two armies surrounded them in a circle.
Percival watched as the woman took a wide stance with a loose guard. He gritted his teeth and put faith in all his years of experience. Taking a healthy amount of pride in his radiant light.
"I am Knight lord Sir Percival, commanding the Knights of Astoria. I will defend Avalon from you at all costs." The radiance of his voice inspired the lights of all those who heard. With his own stand wide he prepared to attack.
"Ooo, Well, I am Negi, the elite Saiyan warrior. Ready to die?" She ends the formalities by rushing in.
She flew in and raised her fist for a widely telegraphed attack.
Meanwhile Percival put his all into the first attack. Injected all his holy aura into his arm for a flying slash, but innovating slightly on the spot. Combining his art with the most basic of the knights techniques. The overhead swung, in which all the user's strength is used for speed and the off hand grips the main hand's forearm.
Only one name could describe the vertical beam of light. Percival had always been an overachiever in the unknown art of cultivating Holy aura. The energy cascaded and burst before he swung. All in just one brief moment.
"Holy art: Excalibur!" He named the explosive vertical line of energy that he released on the swing. The close proximity made the attack explode on impact, the direct cut, however landed on along her chest plate.
Kadoom!
Both Percival and Negi were knocked back. Each to their knees with the latter flipping back first. She stood right away. As her body armor fell after being cut she took just a second to appreciate a new race's "trick".
Stretching her back, with her hands on her hips, Negi was unharmed other than losing the armor. Her tight body suit proved her body was in fact compact muscle with the only modesty remaining with her chest.
At this point Percival had returned to his feet. He had the opposite impression.
"All my power to cut some leather" he exclaimed and the crowd stood with him.
"Like dried beast skin?" She's deduced with a short cackle. "No way better stuff so take the compliment and continue"
Negi egged him on and he deluded himself into believing they were equally gassed.
His translucent holy blade came to life in his right hand. He rushed forth on foot as he only knew. If the fight involved flight he would always be at a disadvantage.
He stabbed it at her, taking the initiative. As she dodged like it were necessary he pulled back and thrust several more times. The rapid holy thrusts looked like a flash of bright afterimages. Yet each of them were dodged.
Wizzz! Wizzz! Wizzz!
Pulling back he took a breath and held his left hand out as a feint. Negi reacted by kicking that hand immediately.
Perceival was stunned to the side for only a second. Raising both his hands to guard, albeit at the cost of the blade. His right fist coated in the holy aura then got smashed away as a fist crashed into the side of his signature helmet.
He yelled out in pain as she tore it off. Percival was bleeding over his eye, blonde hair tainted with red. The commander had tossed his now dented helmet aside and took a serious stance.
Shhing!
Holy aura erupting sharp once again.
"Behind you brother" he heard, recognizing that he had already lost sight of her. Turning left he body stabbed out in his blind spot.
A brave Gamble that earned him a kick to the side of his armor shoulder instead of his head.
Creak! Crash!
Perceivals armor was breaking with each hit. He basically dropped the left arm of his armor off. Pushing off the ground he had to force himself up. For some reason he was allowed back to his feet and he didn't think it was due to some sense of honor. The crazed look in her eyes seemed to define who she was: a sadistic beast.
Gripping his forearm again he prepared to just go all out again. Something in him stiffens and aches painfully as his raised hand erupts with cascading, sharp, translucent, gold light.
The woman was already on him.
Beep!
Her scouter goes off and reveals the plan before it could ever flourish. Energy building in the Shadow of the light.
Percival's eyes were taking away from him as he swung his aching muscles with all his strength. His dominant hand collided with her outstretched arms and all the aura dissipated all at once.
Crunch!
His hand felt as though he landed a bare handed chop against a stone wall. Her crossed arm guard, the density of her forearm shattered his hand. The pain made him fall to his knees.
Just a second prior Lamorak had finished compressing his trump card. Pulling all of the chaotic hateful aura he could muster into one point then concentrating it into his right hand. It took all of his concentration to keep it contained in one hand. He had rounded behind her and didn't really process the result of the fight.
Lamorak kicked off the ground and pulled his fist back containing a dangerous amount of aura. When he went to flame it into her back the most surprising thing happened. His hand stopped and he was stunned. His wrist had been caught mere inches away from her back.
"Ha! Caught you, I knew it. I sensed bull sh*t from you" she refers to her gut feeling, not the actual ability to sense energy, the scouter had supplied her with the necessary information. When her gaze turned it was Lamorak who had been smirking.
His hand couldn't contain the aura any longer and a dark explosion of suffocated light emerges and hits the both of them. In fact it just barely missed Percival out of pity. It knocked him back and kept the woman at the epicenter. The explosion kicked up dirt and burnt the air causing a dramatic smokescreen that lingered.
When it all cleared everyone could see there was a high cost for that decently effective attack. Lemorak's right arm up to his elbow was severely burnt, he was on his back presumingly alive. Percival was at the feet of Sir Pell. By the laws that all was the conclusion of the duel and by all rights he had lost.
Negi had stood flexing her back muscles.
"Sheeeesh" she called out with a tone that didn't mirror what they expected. Negi's back had been singed. The first real damage they had caused to her. Looking over at the semi beat up old knight, she cocked her head. "So you're the last one. After I take you down, Destroy that castle, and allow the inhabitants one last shot of compliance. It will be more money to add ground bounded slaves" Negi vows cruelly.
Sir Pell scoffs. Denying this right away.
"You will yield to Astoria" he claims with some truly false confidence.
As if respecting the failed attempts prior he planned something this woman had yet to see. No thrusts or vertical slashes.
"I am Sir Pell, Knight of Astoria." He announced while summoning his holy aura blade, the radiance of it respectable.
The old knight walked around his son Percival who was momentarily knocked out.
Sir Pell was already prepared to attack, but Negi's wave of her fingers egged him on.
Running toward her he picked his blade up and began to slash his blade across her diagonally. Waving his arm up right to down left and then from up left to down right in fast repetitive arcs.
Wizz! Wiiz!
Of course Negi, the sadistic woman that she is, let the old man play out his attack. Giving him a false sense of hope. She even noticed the small details when given adrenaline, which the stinging pain on her back applied for her. Like how his off hand was weaker, significantly so.
When she dodged up in the air and to the right of him, Negi telegraphed a tight kick to his head.
When he lifted his hand to guard, the pain of his earlier fight weakened it. Having lost multiple fingers and the sear that technically stops the bleeding. Pushing through the pain he was able to deflect just a little bit of the force.
But Negi decided to stop holding so much back in that moment. Easily pulling her leg back and using the free leverage of flight she sent a crushing jab to the front of his helmet. The ground wasn't necessary to get that full torque when you could fly.
He was blown away and she casually floated back and oriented herself upright. Waiting once again for the man to make a move.
Sir Pell couldn't create the same amount of destructive force his son could. He wasn't as fast as him. There was no hope of him out doing what either of his sons have. Yet that did not disturb the radiance of his light. He took off his helmet and tossed it aside.
Further behind Negi again was Lamorak with his one good arm. He was taking that broken helmet off, letting it fall to the ground. The right arm of his was burnt and limp as he stood with some resolve. His heart was somewhat reluctant, as if his battles were lost. Then he glanced over his younger brother and remembered his former goal.
The knights combat strategy was so straight forward the black sheep knew all of its openings. This would be their final bout.
Dark aura flared to life as Lemorak's chest heaved. The chaos of dimmed light, like the heat it produced was quickly consumed. It creeps up his arm, an aura that looks more like a dark flame raising up his arm.
Standing a dozen feet behind Negi again was the rebel's leader who burnt her back. His dark light flaring, in the lowered left hand. Lamorak's body leaned more to the right due to his limp arm.
Mirroring him on the other side of her was Pell. His radiant blade of light held properly high. The man was planning on attacking as he always had.
Each man's breath calmed before they kicked off the ground.
Negi experienced it in slow motion. Recognizing the pincer attack and taking it head on. The flicker of a stimulating power level from before had long died to the cry of a mouse. Even as her body dodged into another attack, she had plenty of ability and time to react.
Moving out of the way of the rush of sharp light and flipping backwards avoiding the dim heat.
Despite Lemorak practically crashing into Pell the latter scoffs and chases after his target. Whipping his arm in fast yet tired arcs.
Lemorak in his desperation chased after the invading woman named Negi. He couldn't even feel his right arm any longer. The endeavor felt like a suicidal mission.
***
When Percival had opened his eyes he witnessed the failure of his father and brother. The two of them on the ground. Like the many corpses strewn across the battlefield.
He was forced to remember the crushing pain in his right hand as he moved it. The moment coming back to him, glimpsing his brother's art. It didn't matter now, if he lost now then the knights would be lost.
Standing up he prepared to face her once again, only to fall short, and kneel. He gasped while gripping his bad hand's wrist.
It wouldn't matter as she was floating way above. Negi faced the direction of the royal castle where the King resides. The Homeland of their people. Percival couldn't realize just how vulnerable it was.
High above the dwindling armies, all of which had ceased fighting, Negi suspended herself below the clouds. Her eyes squint to judge something. Looking out towards the castle that clearly stood as some kind of symbol. The city that surrounded it.
Then she clenched her teeth. Breathing hitching with some effort, pulling some energy from the depths of her being. The air shook, barely visible to the naked eye. Then finally she clenched both her fists up at eye level.
Percival and the army below all audibly gasped as the woman who wreaked havoc now floated above like the source of some natural disaster. It seemed like she was shaking until her arms moved imperceptibly from the ground point of view.
Sucking in a breath she then yelled out "Multiple Reiyā blast!"
Then while pridefully announcing her attack Negi thrust her palm outward and a cascading half dome of light ejected from her palm. The middle shooting off like a small streaking cylinder of yellow light. Like her attack before, however before the first even made head way she launched another with her other hand.
Pulling her first hand back stopped feeding the first blast and shot a third. Releasing the second she shot out a fourth. Each time she released the energy to shoot another its source became a trail of light. She shot nearly a dozen and a half blasts that collided all across the city with the castle being the main target.
The light show was devastating. Each explosion built an obscuring dust cloud, every boom that resounded through the grasslands. Debris was sent in every direction creating more danger even after the attack ended.
When it finally ended all anyone could hear was the cackling of the monster that stole their home. Threatened their lives with an overwhelming violence they couldn't even fathom. Those who picked themselves off and watched as the dust cleared in the distance despair first.
Percival got up onto his feet and momentarily forgot the throbbing pain in his hand. If he had a sword literally, it would have hit the ground. His posture was hobbled and the depth of the encroaching fear built in his heart.
The blonde commander's eyes flicked across the battlefield. Sets of armor with dents, cloaks flying all around in the wind, and damp bodies all strewn across the battlefield. His chest tightened like refusing to let the inside of his stomach escape. Then as he looked down his eyes met the lifeless ones of his brother. To his left, Sir Pell, his father.
While Percival knelt at the head of his family's bodies he was reminded of that day he became a squire. With his mother long gone, aunts and Uncles lost to war, all he would have left to inform would be the King and his counsel. The thought then became tragically humorous as he, like the rest of the armies, bore witness to the castle's destruction. Looking over he saw nothing standing tall, just a large wasteland of rubble.
Suddenly he wanted to write a letter. That sentimental thought was trampled as the gross Maniacal laughter edged closer. Negi stopped just overhead, presenting her position firmly above them.
"Hehahah, phew fifteen, you lot got Fifteen Energy blasts from me today." She spews like it should mean anything to them, other than how many times she needed to flick her wrist to massacre all those lives. "Regardless, I'm a busy woman so just surrender your planet so I can send an appraiser."
Negi must have remembered him because she flew down to him, and not any other person. Her insulting behavior after devastating their home crashing well past just Percival.
He stands and makes the mistake of adding tension into his right hand. No, his right hand wouldn't be summoning any holy blade. Regardless of this normally hopeless situation, Percival sent holy aura, or whatever faith he had left into his left hand.
What shined in his left hand wasn't the radiant light of the holy blade he studied for years. It was some encroaching dim darkness, it crawled his arm as it grew. Unmistakably it was power.
Beep!
The device on Negi's face went off. Her cackling ended and she smirked.
"Gonna fight me with that-er" her sentence was snuffed out, much like the growing dark light they appeared in his hand
Percival had been struck on the back of his head with a clubbing blow. One man of his own army took him out.
"We surrender!"
[God's rejection]
This universe has Gods. Beings that shape the very structure and flow of life. And yet they leave all of the real governing to the strongest of the lower mortals.
The lower beings are expansive in the differences between races. Their strengths very even more widely with a dozen or so extreme outliers. It's those with the confidence to wield their strength that shape the universe; defined by what they can't do.
Imagine being told that your strength has no rivals–other than those who make it pale in comparison. Everyone has ant like strength in comparison to your own–Aside from that one legendary ant that would tear you down one day. You are a monster who can not be tammed–and you should stay away from that one creature that is evil incarnate.
When flying about your side of the galaxy, not even the peace keepers dare tread on your path. The achievements of your legion of warriors from conquered planets are all for your taking. The only people with the gall to even sneer in your direction are your family. Despite that, even among them, you are some genius among geniuses. Eventually your ego inflates to delusions of grandeur such as having the universe under your thumb like a chessboard.
It's when you find that the ants on your board refuse to go along with where you place them. When they start mobilizing and pretending that they have a place at the other side of your table. The novelty wore out, it got boring, but they kept on persisting and looking you in the eye.
"Some weird sense of pride, those ants are more like monkeys, figuring out what fire can do instead of tossing their sh*t around" a cool voice devoid empathy lingers in the room. "I think it's about time we got rid of them. Before they become a hassle to dispose off"
***
Sitting in a half egg shaped floating pod chair was a very distinct alien, something cold and demonic. One with a large head covered in a white thick armor like skin, a massive purple gem in the middle, a black cone shaped horn on each side, and his face was lavender with pinkish black lined accents down his cheeks. That same color and pattern covered his lean limbs. The alien was rather short, but it did not dim the terrifying aura it held at all; not externally at the least. His long lizard-like tail was that same pattern and color, but was tipped in the hard gem color. Wearing the armor it chose, the originator of the current main style with brown pauldrons to match the pattern of his skin. A normally white armor chest piece, now the same purple as his gem like accents made of a durable and stretchable material. It also has matching arm guards and unseen shin guards. Lastly, its three toed feet are visible from his assured cross legged posture. All of its nails are black.
The young emperor had prepared himself to obliterate the prideful race. Deliciously he imagined their shock and terror as a ball of death hurtled towards their planet.
"Or maybe...i could blast them down one by no hohoho" he laughed to his loyal vanguard while aiming a finger foward. Miming the recoil of a blaster with a ("bang").
"Lord Freiza, Your guests have arrive" Spoke a voice over the intercom.
His finger curled and braced as if he were no longer just thinking about shooting and killing. A bead of sweat falls from his temple, which is shocking considering everyone thinks this emperor was cold blooded to his core. His hand returns to his side before he exits the pod.
"Zarbon, Dodoria, you two remain here In the case that commands need to be sent out. Once i return.. fue fue fue" he giggles smugly while turning to leave. "We shall complete are delicious plans to eliminate any who stand in my way"
With a wipe of his tail, the imposing emperor of the universe left the room.
Only after several moments later did the handsome green man and spikey hot pink blob of a man fall out of step. With the console Infront of them they each sucked in a breath before focusing on finding ways to avert future disasters.
Zarbon had taken the seat and was tapping away at the keys. Dodoria leaned over briefly before pulling back to check his scouters transmissions. Both exhale exasperated sighs. Then a transmission came in.
"We have found the emperor's perfect punching bag" a old voice came in to the relief of the duo.
Zarbon and Dodoria both had a sinking feeling their young emperors meeting won't going well.
***
When the young emperor returned his face betrayed none of the indignation in the bowels of his mind. Each step taken with visible decision in each. Like a boy grasping at what little control he has against the ocean that washes away old foot steps.
Freiza ignore his subordinates like the world was ringing. Numbness carving it's path through the sounds. As he took his seat, Zarbon and Dodoria making their reports, only the rejection he received echos in his mind.
"Mmmyaaa" the purple feline alien yawned out like sleep was a more important priority. "Mmm no".
The sleepy purple house cat's decision was swift. Freiza's eyes has widened as he protested. Explaining how the saiyan's got in the way.
"Mmm whis, what did the elder brother say again?" His voice meanders the question as if needing a reminder on why he didn't want to destroy them.
"He said they are useful lord Beerus" the blue man with white hair, styled upward unnaturally, answers with a melodious tone.
Freiza was utterly taken a back. The shock of his elder brothers involvement should have made him seeth. Rather he was simply dumb founded.
The eldest brother of the new generation of Frost demons had renounce the throne, keeping to his own corner of the galaxy. Freiza expected at least some verbal spat, but instead Cooler flew off with his armada of trained elites and rarely communicated. Last he heard the man had seezed an entire planet for a throne of his own.
The thought of his brother pridefully creating his own throne made him believe his only rival to be incompetent. Up until now he has been led to believe Cooler was simple letting time fly by while he sat on his made throne, managing the planets he has purchased.
"Just keep culling the weak and mindless races especially. On my behalf" was the last thing the yawning cat demanded of the short emperor.
Freiza's memory of the moment prior was interrupted by an incoming message from his proxy on planet vegeta. The gruff inhuman voice informed him of a certain core of saiyans that had disappeared, there was a growing second faction of saiyans, and apparently they held a prison as well that wasn't disclosed before.
Suffice to say this was a horrible day for the emperor of the universe.