Post by Wyntre Cold on Jun 27, 2017 11:11:48 GMT
((Mild Gore Warning. Not much, but still. Bugs in stomachs are icky.))
Wyntre Cold, Ex-Empress of Arcose, was beginning to get the distinct impression her self-imposed isolation wasn't going to help her. But, still, it was enjoyable, yet also, in a way, not. Paradoxically, she didn't like interacting with people (not that she wasn't good at it, that's a whole other matter altogether) but she wanted people to confide in. Friends, perhaps. Kiwano was too much of a sycophant, like most of the crew, and Zexama's utter immaturity was a solid brick wall between them.
So, once again, she fled to the Gravity Chamber, to play a part in simulations.
1.
5.
0.
One hundred and fifty times the galactic gravitational standard, ten meters per second. So, all in all, the gravity she was experiencing was 1500 meters per second. Yet, she was so used to it. She had slept in this gravity, eaten in this gravity and exercised in this gravity. Well, the last one only happened once. 'Exercise' is improper, after all.
"Computer, bring us to an area twenty meters above a wheat field on Earth." The chamber's walls faded away, revealing a sea of yellow inefficient grass. "Add enemy combatant: Zucceta. Power Level: 2,822,820, how powerful she was when she invaded Arcose. State: Super Saiyan. Mute her, too. I want a challenge: Zucceta can provide that with only her power, not her tongue."
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Nothing happened. Something was wrong. "Computer. What was my last piece of simulation manipulation?"
…
…
…
Again, nothing. What was wrong?
And then, suddenly, as if fitting into place, the ground beneath her crunched, snapped and faded away, soon followed by the sky and everything else in sight.
"End simulation. End simulation!"
With this, she didn't expect an answer, which is just as well, considering she didn't receive one.
"Emergency override: forty 598 sleep rain 4595 m 60 575 river 7387?"
Nothing. She was already hypothesizing: presumably, a malevolent program has breached the Valiance, took control over its systems and was now trying to, quite cleverly, kill its only threats.
And then, suddenly, there was a rush of pain. What sort of pain was it, then? It was more gravity, more than 150x. She couldn't tell how powerful the gravity was, at least numerically, but a good estimate would have been about 200x… she didn't know the Gravity Chamber went up this much. Presumably, it wasn't recommended for good reasons. Not that no one would be strong enough to handle it, there's always someone strong enough, but because the computer simply couldn't handle that sort of gravity for long. Meaning, she could either endure the gravity long enough to either have it critically fail or until some simulation murders her OR she could find some way out.
She knew where she was in the non-simulated world. She knew where the controlling podium most likely wouldn't respond to her command. No matter, she'd need a better way to turn it off or escape.
The pain was… not too bad, actually. Given how natural 150x had become, what she was experiencing now was just about the equivalent of a human in 1.25g. Actually, standing was quite—
The gravity increased, somehow. She almost collapsed, again, but didn't as it was almost expected. This was just getting annoying.
She closed her eyes. In a simulation of pure darkness, eyesight wasn't overly important. She still had her scouter on, but the simulated blackness prevented her from seeing it. "Scouter, voice control activated. Use sonar to map out the surrounding area in three dimensions and show it to me."
Many of the better scouters had selling points such as showing images to the brain without heavily intruding on or influencing the brain, Wyntre verified this herself. Thankfully, the scouter wasn't influenced by whatever took over the chamber.
After a few bips of sound were generated by the machine, timed and then received again, the scouter generated a 3D image of all around it. The actual, non-simulation Gravity Chamber made itself apparent. But flying over to the door wasn't going to work: how else are the simulations made to seem so much larger than the chamber itself? She'd never make it. Instead, she'd need some way to bypass this.
She felt as if the simulation was pressing down on her now, forcing her to carry the semi-corporeal blackness above.
Her only idea was to temporarily become intangible and hope that it works.
Wyntre had such self control over herself that only a slight ki manipulation would allow her to vibrate her strings in such a way as to phase out of corporeality (in theory). In reality, she wasn't 100% sure on how it worked, but it was the best explanation so far. She activated her intangibility and flew for the door…
Success! Opening her eyes, she could see that he was no longer in the gravity chamber, but in the corridor. Perhaps, if she could get to the engine room and activate the emergency shutdown, the entity would no longer have a medium in which to spread.
She knew exactly where that was and what exactly was the best way to get there. Speeding through corridors, her entire journey took less than a second.
The engine room. Despite the name, there weren't really any engines in sight. It was all quite cleanly and organized, with the ship's power source and its innumerable backups barely taking up any room. She didn't look at any of those things, though, as there were more pressing matters. There was a series of button presses that would activate a sequence of code independent from the ship's main system that would effectively force shut down the ship, bar life support. Only Wyntre knew of it. But, just before she would have begun typing, she came to a horrible realization.
"My intangibility shouldn't have gotten me out of there. My scouter thinks I want to see its echolocatational representation of the simulation, not reality…" With the press of a few buttons, she specified to her scouter what she wanted to see through it… but she saw the chamber. She was still in the simulation. "But why let me think I've escaped? Presumably, to watch me input the sequence that would enable one to activate or disable the force shutdown. You're a clever program, aren't you?"
In the same style expected from the gravity chamber's simulation, the engine room faded out of existence around her as the chamber faded into existence. As one went, one came.
She had noticed that the gravity chamber was at a much more manageable 150x standard gravity. But, far more pressingly, she was not alone. She eyed the figure suspiciously and with great precaution.
"You're half right, you know. That's only half-wrong. Half-incompetent. Half-deserving of free will. But, that isn't quite good enough."
Wyntre, ever polite, pretended to relax. She was good at that. "I don't believe we've ever met. What is your name?"
The figure was masculine and resembled an Arcosian, but calling him one would seem off. It looked like he was two-dimensional, almost, like a shadow or a moving cardboard cutout painted with vantablack. But, covering his body were veins— no, wires— of glowing red. This was not natural.
"It was perfectly executed, you have to admit. The crew members were eating in easily lockable rooms, Zexama remains asleep even now, practically asking for some insidious mind control plot and you, the Ex-Empress of Arcose, are trapped in your own gravity chamber simulation. Yes, Princess, we have met before. I am Ziman. I believe you'd remember me."
Yes, indeed she did. This was Ziman? What happened to him? Why was he so… no, she thought she knew. Ziman mustn't have had a physical form, so this was how he represented himself in the simulation.
"You were half-right, I said, when you proclaimed what you believed I was trying to do. You were half-right. Yes, I wanted to know the force shutdown code, but that was merely an added bonus. No, I wanted to see the look of despair on your face when you realize that you never really escaped the simulation. Frankly, it was disappointing. You disappointed me."
Ziman was an old Arcosian in life. He had served Vetur's father, then Vetur, then Vetur's daughter, Wyntre. But, not for long. He wasn't a fan of how the Empress wasn't as militaristic as he wanted, so he quit being an advisor and resumed his old job of being a neuroengineer. Wyntre had assumed that he passed away during the Invasion of Arcose, but if he succeeded in digitizing his consciousness without any drawbacks… that would be impressive.
"That look on your face… I suppose you've figured out what I am now. But, still, I'd rather show you."
The figure dissipated tracelessly, soon followed by the chamber around them. The first thing she heard was a familiar sound: the screams and shouts and blasts and deaths of the Invasion of Arcose. She had went through his scenario many times over, fighting Zuccetas of varying power. Usually winning, Sometimes losing, but always at a loss.
Yes, she was on Arcose, but she wasn't in the sky like she usually was. She was on the ground, like a terrified citizen, watching upwards as she saw the conflict of the most powerful, the leaders, of two Empires. She saw herself up there. Is this what it looked like? Wyntre wasn't too keen on admitting it, but she had fought valiantly. It was just a shame that the bad guys won.
But, she was placed at the entrance of a building for a reason. So, she entered, seeing, at first, nothing of note but monitors. Then… brains in jars. It must have been Ziman's laboratory.
In the distance, she heard the distinct of sound of an Oozaru moving in their direction. In other words, foreshadowing.
She saw Ziman and his pearl-colored assistant fretting, worried about what they were seeing on monitors. But, soon, he was seated in an old chair, presumably the only one at hand, with a strange-looking helmet on. It was pretty obvious what it was for at this point, but Wyntre paid attention anyway. "Quick, quick, activate it! We can do you next!"
And, with that motivation, the innocent Arcosian assistant flipped the switch on the wall, triggering a strange series of lights and noises to be emitted. But, then, nothing.
The Oozaru came ever closer.
"Did it work?"
Ziman looked at her as if he were seeing for the first time. He stood up, out of the chair, and put his helmet neatly on it.
"I am immortal. My mind has been transmitted. It… it's beautiful."
Motivated more than she ever had been before, the assistant picked started to pick up the helmet and try the process on herself.
"Activate it for me, Doctor."
But, alas, an Oozaru had smashed through a door and some of its adjoining roof, the soot flying over the two. It began charging a ki blast in its mouth.
"There's no time, but I've got an alternative." He put his hands on her cheeks as his pre-prepared nanobots got to their work. If she wouldn't transmit on her own, she would transmit through him.
But, only a second laser, death overcame them in a flash of ki. But, still, a part of them lived on.
Arcose faded around them, replaced by the chamber. Out of nowhere came a voice.
"So I found myself as a program with the unactivated consciousness of my assistant, my fiancée, Wethridge. I was too large a file to transmit over any long distance, but, since I got my bearings after the Saiyans left, the only ship I could transmit myself to was yours. You've got yourself good safety here, I have to admit. It took a very, very long time to get into the system."
Wyntre narrowed her eyes at him. "You could have just explained your plight to me. I would have helped. You and Wethridge would have been given robotic bodies by now."
Unfortunately, she knew generic bad guy motives well enough to predict his response to a great degree of accuracy.
"Yes, I believe you: you would have done that. But, the thing is, that's just not good enough. Why would I have a droid to control, when I could have an entire ship? Or, better yet, the primary capital ship and most technologically advanced ship that the Arcosian Empire has ever graced with creation? But, that isn't all. My nanobots are working on you as we speak. It may take weeks, months, perhaps even years because of your admittedly astounding willpower, telekinetic and telepathic abilities, but you will fall under my control, along with the rest of your crew. And Zexama, too. And then, with the rightful Empress as my puppet, I will take back the Arcosian Empire from the slugs and destroy the monkeys once and for all, with the galaxy truly united under my hive mind. I shall give your body to Wethridge and we shall live forever… I'll just have to tell her what I've done for us, since, without a way to store a consciousness, only one of us can be around in this program at the same time. Any objections?"
He was quite predictable, really. "None that you'd care to hear. Although, do note, try not to explain your entire evil plan next time."
"Oh, Princess, there's nothing evil about it."
A mischievous smile turned on her face. She had a plan, evidently. "You can't judge your moral character on your own, you need frames of reference and impartial judges of character. I believe the closest thing to that, in this case, would be Wethridge herself. How about you activate her consciousness and put her in charge of your program?"
The room, somehow, became angrier. "No, no, no. You'll just manipulate her into shutting me down, then trick her into limiting her own power or something like that, I know you. I also know how you fight: I've been watching your simulations, after all." He exhaled greatly, despite not having any lungs. "But I understand, I know what you mean. So I'll set up a simulation. I'll use the gravity chamber's AI to observe Wefridge's behavior and have her imitate it."
"Thank you."
Wethridge, the Arcosian laboratory assistant and fiancée of an ex-Imperial Advisor (a very lucrative position), had had enough wealth to retire young when she and Ziman wed. They worked not for the money, but for the advancement in understanding of how neural computers (i.e., brains) and binary computers (i.e., most computers) can translate their data to one another. This work was important in putting data from one brain to another brain of a different species, using (most commonly) binary computers as an intermediary. It was also lead to the development of AI designed to make a 'translation guide' for strange brains of rare aliens or bio-androids with many conflicting neural patterns, but this was soon picked up by some clandestine people who sought to use this technology as a way to easily mind control just about any species with only one design of what was usually a crown-like device. The point is, she was a good person who was well respected and did good work that was used by some negatively.
And, by no coincidence, she was now before her. Her orange skin and opal biogems were just as striking as before.
"Empress Wyntre!" She bowed down in equal measures of respect and surprise.
"Rise, Wethride of Arcose. It's just 'Wyntre' now."
That could be interpreted in a number of ways. She rose. "We're— Are we… are we dead?" That was one of the more macabre interpretations.
Lady Cold shook her head. No, they were not dead. She had been for a time and, inevitably, she will be again. "No, no. You survived, in a way, through your mind being transmitted as a program with your fiancé. You're aboard my ship."
She was only a simulation. This was only to prove a point. Ziman was watching silently, awaiting his answers. "But— what? Why do I have a body?"
"We'll get to that. After you were transmitted, Ziman invaded the program of a fleeing ship and ripped its passengers' free will from them to gain control."
"But— no. No, he wouldn't do that, he—" Her facial expression became inemotive immediately. "IS ENTIRELY IN THE RIGHT AND ALSO HANDSOME."
Oh, was that how it was? Hacking into a simulation to farm compliments, was that truly the best he could do? She chuckled to herself.
"Now, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's cheating."
"You lied. You said I took over a ship and controlled all of its inhabitants. You were lying to her, manipulating her against me."
Perhaps being awake for a few consecutive months of trying to best an absurdly secure computer wasn't best for one's sanity.
Wethridge faded out of existence. "The simulation was active for less than ten seconds. I'm good, but not that good. Besides, it isn't as false as you'd think. You plan on having had taken control over this ship and its passengers before you put the real Wethridge in a suitable body. So, assuming you succeed, what I said was true, only from the perspective of the future."
Wyntre received a powerful blow to the gut out of nowhere, winding her and sending her to the floor. "While I might usually enjoy our talks, I've waited a long time and invested a lot of effort into this. You're only lucky because you're crucial to my plans, so I wouldn't want to damage your— soon to be Wethridge's— body. It's almost as if you doubt me; my power is great. Do not seek to test me."
Her earlier plan didn't fail, as such. Think of it as big manipulation, assuming eventual success.
Wyntre brought herself back up. "No, I'd rather not. You see, with all of the villains who claimed power over me— well, I'm still around, aren't I? Show yourself to me. Fight me. Prove yourself to your Empress."
She heard a minor rupture of laughter which soon evolved into a progressively more loud 'evil laugh'.
The formless black formed up again, dramatically and with shadowy ink seemingly seeping out of the floor and roof to make his frame. Red lines covered him soon after.
This was a simulation, meaning that that was how Ziman wanted to look, given his control over it. Had he forsaken his roots for his new form?
"You are a fool. My simulated Power Level is unlimited! There is no way that you could even hope to win."
She didn't know how, but her telepathic attempts to reach Zexama or just about anything outside of the chamber hadn't worked. Well, she did know how, just not exactly how.
But, alas, she didn't need to win to win. No, she'd just need to outploy, outplay and outplot him. She needed him to think that he's won, to think that he's beaten her, and that is when she'll strike. Or, perhaps more accurately, that is when she shall let him defeat himself.
But a plan is one thing and execution is another, the two not coming hand in hand like hoped.
"You haven't moved in the slightest since I appeared. Are you, dare I say it, afraid?"
Oh, no. For someone who's just had their entire ship hacked, has been told that their body will soon not be their own and that they will be trapped for however long it takes in 150x standard gravity while being constantly watched and mentally probed by a psychopathic artificial opportunist, I think I'm handling this pretty well.
"Hardly. I'm just wondering what color your blood will be when your entire upper torso is vaporized." But, she didn't actually plan on defeating him that way, did she? No, it was a way to make him think that she thought she could defeat him in physical combat. She'd need to wait for the right time before using his own plot against him.
"I am bloodless, faultless. You are flesh. You are weak." Of course he wouldn't have any blood. This was known by both of them, as it had been for a while now.
Dissatisfied with the lack of combat, he moved towards her imperceptibly quickly. It seemed like teleportation— but, no, he was merely traveling at simulated speeds so fast that she couldn't see any point between 'he was there' and 'he was here'. He didn't strike, nor did he adopt any posture other than 'cockily relaxed', but his sheer closeness to her caused Wyntre to seek to gain some distance. She hit his chest with a open palm, but ended up only hurting her arm. She tried to strike at his neck with her tail, but his imperceptibly fast arm caught it ease.
They appeared to be in the Gravity Chamber, but this was likely to be a simulation. For, if it weren't, could she not just fly outside, where the simulation could not follow?
She even attempted to shoot a death beam straight into his heart… it didn't pierce his skin, assuming he had any, yet alone his (again, probably non-existent) heart. He didn't let go of her tail, either. Instead, he threw her at the central column, causing parts of it to crumble and break. If this were real, he surely wouldn't have done that: it was far too important to damage.
"Try not to be beaten up too badly. Not with anything that can't heal, certainly."
Being beaten up wasn't the plan either. All she'd need to do is surprise him, have him off guard and then to have him believe she's fallen into his trap.
Wyntre made the motion for what wad going to be a headbutt, but instead phased straight through him, getting behind him and freeing her tail as a bonus. But, she didn't stop moving. She headed straight for the exit, the apparent way to get out. Ziman 'teleported' in the way, but she just phased through him again.
The engine room, she'd need to get to the engine room. And, soon enough, that was where she found herself. The console, the console… this was where to activate or disable the force shutdown function.
She wrote a long series of numbers.
And, again, the engine room faded into the chamber, revealing a laughing Ziman. "Oh, oh, this is brilliant! You've been in the simulation the entire time! Not only that, but I've tricked you into inputting the function on the simulated panel. Now, I can disable it for good… yes, yes! The numbers have been inputted. There is no hope for you now! You're—! You're… why are looking at me like that?"
Sometimes being this brilliant paid off.
"I knew your ploy. I knew that it was a simulation. Frankly, Ziman, I'm disappointed in you. I didn't give you the force shutdown options sequence. Instead, I gave you (and the name might not be right, for your information) the force 'isolate and neutralize malevolent AIs' order. It'll kick-in in a minute or so. But, before then, I have one more shock for you."
Ziman's expression had quickly shifted to one of fear. How had this happened? How did he let this happen to him? Cold could not see his facial expressions behind his absolute darkness, but knew what he was feeling well enough from his body posture.
"N-No, it can't be! I control this ship, this ship is mine!" But then he more properly understood his situation and his most probably way of getting out alive. "Empress Wyntre! I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking right! I can serve you, just like I used to, just don't kill me!"
"I didn't say anything about killing you. Your shock to me was that I was in a simulation— but, alas, that is my shock to you. I hated you, you know. You disagreed with everything I said, said I wasn't like my father, or my father's father. You did not quit, you were fired, back when I was too vain to see that I could be wrong. Your fiancée, though, I liked. She did good work to help people. So, what was the best way to antagonize someone you hated and mourn someone you lost? A simulation seemed suitable. But, not only that, it was recommended that I run a scenario on if an AI took over the ship, so, alas, here we are. You did not survive Arcose, although you would have been wished back, along with your beloved. And, as proof: Computer, set Ziman's power level to 10. The really unrealistic thing in the simulation was that the ship was compromised. Ha! Laughable."
"Ziman's Power Level: 1*10^1."
Wyntre began throwing Ziman around with her telekinesis. A wonderful revenge, indeed. "No, don't, please! Even if I'm not real, even if I'm some virtual punching bag you made to get your revenge and please yourself in the process, I can still be of use to you!"
She knew all about the gravity settings above 150 times standard. She had been acting for the whole thing… quite convincingly, too.
"That's the thing about the technology I have available to me: I could have the simulation simulate anyone I please and have that personality do whatever I want. I could have Zucceta beg for my forgiveness: sometimes, that's exactly what I do. I could give the computer the voice and personality of Wethridge. What would that be like, Computer?"
"Like this, Empress."
"Indeed. So, to conclude—"
And with a fling of her wrist his head was telekinetically ripped from his body. "End simulation."
And, once again, she was alone.
She thought of Ziman's plans and she thought of her crew. She thought of home… she thought of how her crew must yearn for Arcose.
Morale was low.
Arcose had been lost to the Saiyans. Then, it was taken over by a sentient shrub. But, at that moment, Saiyans were taking over. Or, Saiyans had taken over. Really, news wasn't coming in fast enough to determine which.
Wyntre Cold, the rightful ruler of Arcose, was hiding on a teeny-weeny little planet called Earth. Instead of going over and reclaiming the planet, they stagnated. What was the point if some idiot with too many muscles would then smash their way in and pretend they were in any way competent?
She had failed her planet once. She had failed her people, too. She had failed Zexama, just as she had failed Brisk. But, now, she was failing her planet again. This was too much to bear. This was worse than any evil AI.
Few things put her mind off of such matters. First and foremost among those was training: or, rather, doing whatever in 150g. But, she had already went through an entire pre-made and articulately designed simulation, so what was there to do next?
And here she was now, staring vacantly at the floor which refused to look back. She was strong, perhaps even the strongest Arcosian to have ever existed, and yet she was but a mote of dust to her betters in power. Arcosian power was no longer supreme and she could no longer claim thus. The gravity was strenuous, perhaps, but what her mind was going through was far worse.
In her ship were hundreds of crew members, yet she was alone. She was a weakling compared to the other faction leaders, yet she was so powerful. What was there to do? Wait? Defend Earth when the Solar Saiyan Empire or the Mazoku Dominion inevitably returns? If Xylo were to die in such an event… well, that was certainly an opportunity. Yet, if he were to return from death (and if she could do it, why would he have any problems?), what was stopping him from taking over the planet again? Arcose could only survive for so long under an incompetent leader. She would need to be stronger. Even stronger. Again.
Sigh.
"Computer. Add combatant: Mazoku Soldier. Power Level: 3,000,000."
"Combatant added: 'Mazoku Soldier'. 'Mazoku Soldier' Power Level: 3*10^6."
She suppressed her own Power Level to three million: only a slight suppression, though, as limiting power does not inhibit the effectiveness of training.
Before her stood an arrogant-looking green fellow with an armored gi of green and purple. His face presented many scars and just as many battles. Yet, this was of no concern to the rightful Empress, as she saw only simulated scars on a simulated face representing simulated battles.
"Change the instance to the current incarnation of the supposed eventual Mazoku invasion of Earth."
"Instance changed: 'Dominion'."
The surfaces around her seemed to collapse. Walls, the roof, the central column, the floor simply disappeared. If she weren't so used to it it might have been disorienting, but, alas, she was.
"What is your name, soldier?" There's nothing wrong with toying with your foe if they aren't real.
His gruff yet arrogant grin widened. "My name is Asper. But, that's Colonel Asper to the likes of you!"
"Ah, but if your betters call you Colonel Asper, what do your equals and lessers call you? Not to imply that it's possible to be worth any less than you, of course."
The two were flying over West City, eyes locked onto each other, as AI combatants and AI allies fought each other. Cities burned. It wasn't entirely unlike the Saiyan invasion of Arcose, really…
Asper grit his teeth under the fire of the insult, but soon relaxed. "So says the fallen Empress who couldn't even defend her own planet!"
"So says your better."
That annoyed him. But, then again, so would just about anything unless it was what was desired. And yet, perhaps, even then. Whatever happened to the Namekians being a peaceful race? The further and further the galaxy stretches away from Arcosian control, the more chaos seeped in through the cracks.
They stared at each other for a while, neither daring to make the first move.
But, then, in but a blink, there was action! The gap between them closed as if it were never there as fists, feet and the occasional tail met.
At one point, Wyntre had caught Asper's hands. The problem? Her hands and his were half a meter away from each other.
"What manner of witchcraft is this?"
Wyntre's lips turned into a malicious grin. Taking advantage of the opportunity and, in particular, the confusion, she struck his face with her tail… only, her tail was also half a meter away from contact, despite the strike.
"It's called the Tulpa Touch, but telling you is a waste. You'd hardly figure out what 'tulpa' is, yet alone replicate the technique."
The technique allowed for her strikes to have a bit more reach and allowed her to strike her opponents without touching them. It was quite useful for getting in a few attacks like what was happening now. But, perhaps it could be used in a manner that could end the fight a tad sooner, as well?
Red ki gathered at the tip of her tail, which she positioned to aim at hisglubark brain. His struggle immediately intensified. Honestly, it was quite hard to keep him still…
Quite predictably, he attempted to get out of the hold and thus out of the beam's path by kicking his out of the way. Not quite so predictably, he succeeded. Wyntre seemed to have forgotten that her for was her equal in terms of power.
She shot the Death Beam at his escaping body, but, alas, he was already free. The Death Beam grazed his gi, but only narrowly missed his flesh. In retaliation, he sent a much larger beam her way…
"Advance Collapse!"
It was a green attack of energetic and spiraling ki which seemed to radiate outwards in weird ki tendrils. But, that wasn't entirely important. What was important was that the attack was headed straight for her.
Thankfully, Wyntre was acquainted with the technique of moving slightly out of the way.
"If you survive this encounter— you won't, but if it were possible and if you did survive— I do recommend investing in homing techniques. See, I'll show you one…"
Energy gathered in her hand. Yet, it wasn't forming a ki. What what it forming, anyway? A blade? Not quite. No, it was a saucer. The most powerful version of the homing variant of the technique Zexama's kienzan helped inspire. Which name did she come up for this one? Death Disk? Shi-kienzan? She, uncharacteristically, had forgotten. No matter. She had never really liked the idea of announcing the names of attacks before using them. Or after, really. Or ever.
Asper had his own ideas. If he could go in for a strike before she sent her attack, the energy would dissipate harmlessly. He would have tried to maneuver the homing disk back into her, but he knew that she was too smart for that to work.
Lady Cold knew what Asper's plan was. This time, she wasn’t underestimating him. This time, she knew exactly what he was going to do.
Slice!
Not quite the immediate victory she was hoping for, but the clean slice went straight through him, ridding him of his right hand and some of the adjoining torso. For a species that sustains itself on water, it wasn't as bloody as expected… actually, there wasn't any blood. Wyntre suspected that that was because of the simulation's filters, in case children used it. She didn't care to remove the filters, either: blood was icky.
"You… you bitch!"
"Watch the language."
He smirked. Then he smiled. Then, laughter. He was probably going to try to surprise her by growing back his arm, but she was expecting such a thing. He continued laughing… it was quite annoying. She considered killing him with a Death Beam right there and then but thought better of it. Let him have his fun.
"You fool! You may think that I am less one limb, but I have a few tricks of my own!"
Indeed he did. Nothing she had never faced before, though. This wasn't her first Namekian opponent, simulated or otherwise. Predictably, the splutter of green liquid (presumably a nutrient-rich solution) accompanied the sound of his arm growing back. If not for the aforementioned liquid, she could scarcely tell it from the old one he had… not without a closer look, of course.
"Do not believe, not even for a moment, that this gives you the upper hand in any way. Rather, I've barely used any energy. You, on the other hand? You've regrown a whole arm, plus some. It's only a matter of time before you collapse."
He grimaced. "… It won't be me collapsing."
In reply, she smiled. "We'll see about that. Computer, pause simulation."Asper froze in place, as expected. Even the screaming and fighting in the distance halted. "Add Ally: Zexama. Make her Power Level 3,000,000. Add Hostile Combatant: Mazoku Demoness with Power Level 3,000,000. Resume simulation."
The brilliance of the program was that it created context and reasons for everything. Given the context, it was only sensical that Zexama would come to the defense of Earth alongside Wyntre and that the Mazoku Demoness partake in the carnage for her faction.
"Changes added."
The pleas for help resumed. Zexama was there, as if she never wasn't there. Her diminutive frame and appearance were poor indications of her power: she was Wyntre's equal in that regard. She showed great concentration and indignation, as even Zexama could not easily make light of such an event.
On the other side, the 'Mazoku Demoness'. You could hardly tell her gender from her appearance, though: she was clad, head to toe, in heavy armor. Given the demonic penchant for spikes, this was full of it. It wasn't the most usable armor ever, but it looked cool. Wyntre knew precisely how best to exploit this… but she was to be Zexama's foe, not hers. A sword and shield materialized in her hands; they seemed to have been of the same style as the armor. The sword itself was as large as a person, a comparison which made apparent her hulking frame. She was huge! She must have been even bigger from Zexama's perspective… yet, strangely, they were exact equals in power. The program prevented them from noticing things like that until pointed out by a non-simulation. Apparently, watching simulations of one's enemies realizing that they aren't real and having mental breakdowns as a result was entertaining enough to warrant the purchase of a chamber for some people.
"Ah! Wyntree-knee! I'm super mega glad I found you, now we can fight together! This fatso givin' you trouble?"
Wyntre flinched. Asper flinched. The Demoness merely got closer.
"You will perish by my sword! I, Subjugatrix Belyth, leader of the Demon Hand, will take this planet for Lord Xylo!"
It seemed that the program was also very good at creating original characters. Wyntre did not know what the Demon Hand was, or if it was even a real thing or a faction the computer made for the character. While she wouldn't have learnt this until after the fight and after asking the computer a few questions, the Demon Hand was a group of assassins who were given fancy powers and political power for working for the reigning Monarch of the Demon Realm. How the computer knew of this, she did not know. What she wouldn't learn (at least what she wouldn't learn that day) was that many of the Demon Hand didn't really like the guy in charge and as such deserted over to the Mazoku Dominion. The end result was that there were two factions, both calling themselves the Demon Hand, working for different powers. The non-Mazoku one, though, had so few members that it essentially didn't matter anyway. Belyth was entirely original, though.
"Zexama, take on the sentient spiky wall over there. I'll finish the Namekian."
"Yepperoni. Except, that's pepperoni, which isn't candy, so 'yepquorice'! Just kidding, liquorice isn't real candy. Oh, I know! 'Yepp—'"
"Your head will be my goblet!"
"No, that wouldn't taste very nice. Stupid demon!"
Zexama then got sent away with a bash of Belyth's shield, having had been dazed by the prospect of a Majin's head being used as a goblet (how would that even work?). Belyth flew at her, hoping to get some combos in. They were sufficiently far away, then, for their own fight to continue.
"With the distraction out of the way, I will slay you. Then, I and my accomplice will kill your friend."
"It's 'my accomplice and I’: even monsters should have standards. Regardless, you are fool who is soon to die. Tell me, how many times can you regrow your arm before you run out of energy?"
"And how many times can you use that cutting technique of yours before the strain gets to you?"
"However many times as needed, fiend."
”Then that’s my answer to you."
And the battle resumed. Again, blows were traded, as if by a cadre of overenthusiastic merchants. Kicks and tail swipes were swept around, as if by a cleaner who hadn't done any work all day and had to clean the entire house in a few minutes. There was no clear winner, as expected. Their power levels were precisely equal, after all.
And, then… from behind, Asper was surprised by Zexama in a liquid-like form, attempting to absorb him as she had Belyth. She must have taken advantage from all of her armor's 'grabby bits', as is the technical term, or got in the space between the shield and the armor where attacking Zexama would have been awkward and, if done poorly, self-harming.
Yet, Asper was winning their struggle. To prevent the Majin from failing in her current activity, Wyntre flew straight up to him and punched him in the gut, a pain that was distracting enough to allow Zexama to finish her absorption.
Soon, Asper was no more. Yet, Zexama, after two absorptions, was no more powerful. She also didn't get any new transformations, presumably, as the real Zexama had claimed would happen. Simulations have limits, too.
"Set Zexama's Power Level to 4,000,000."
"Zexama's Power Level: 4*10^6."
Zexama looked more serious than before, sure, but this seemed to be more of a habitual seriousness. Her personality changed, but it was only a simulation, right?
"… I'm going to get Xylo for this!"
And perhaps she was going to, at least in a simulated way. Perhaps Xylo would be their next opponent.
Next to Zexama's four million, Wyntre's own three million didn't seem quite so impressive. I mean, yes, there were those with power levels nearing— or perhaps even surpassing— ten million, but there were so few of them. The beauty of a rose is not diminished by the thought that there are more beautiful roses elsewhere, after all.
But still, Wyntre was an advocate for evenness. She let energy swell up inside her and summoned her rage: to control it, and to never let it control her. She'd done this a few times before and she was pretty confident in her ability to summon it at will.
With a burst of power, accompanied with a shout, her height almost doubled, her head changed shape, becoming more frightening and serpentine and her power increased to a great degree. Now, she was more powerful than Zexama…
But, she was a fan of evenness, so she suppressed her Power Level of a teeny-tiny bit more than four million to just four million.
"I don't believe you've seen my new form, have you? Behold, and revel in my aura."
Zexama was skeptical. "I don't know, it just looks like you got a bit taller and got cobra bits. I'm pretty sure I'd win if we fought."
Oh, banter, what brilliance. "We'll have to verify that later, then, won't we? But, for now, we've got company. Computer, add combatant: Mazoku Leader. Mazoku Leader PL: 8,000,000."
The 'Mazoku Leader' was not Xylo, as one might have fought, as Xylo had his own designation. Rather, 'Mazoku Leader' referred to the three or four most influential or powerful people in its ranks, its non-Xylo leaders.
Out popped into existence the intelligently-designed demon in all of its glory. It stood as a six foot masterpiece and one could immediately tell that this was one of the demons who cared about their appearance more than anything else. His hair couldn't quite choose one color, so it was three. It even seemed apparent that it designed its own costume…
He had horns, too. Horns that seemed to have been adorned with bells, ribbons, dyes and perfumes, almost like a really weird Baomas tree.
And so, just like how it couldn't be decided if the demon was 'he' or if it was an 'it', Wyntre could not decide if she would address it or if he should address her first. But, he spoke first anyway, regardless of her internal decision.
“Ah, I see that you have disposed of my friends. It hardly matters, anyway, little darlings! They were expendable. I, on the other hand, am fabulous! Die!”
Wyntre did not know why people who shouted 'die' at their enemies did so. Was it the case that their opponent was so polite that they decided that dying would be the only hospitable thing to do?
Yet, here she was, not even knowing the name of the guy who punched her across the sky.
“It's Amaymo, by the way.”
Thank you, Amaymo.
Yet, here she was, only having had just heard of the name of the guy who had punched her a long way away and into an earthen tree, smashing it to the ground. She understood that he would try to separate them as fighting a single opponent with half of your PL was easy, whereas fighting two of them was challenging. In a blast, she she back in the fray.
Zexama seemed to be handling herself well. She took some hits, she delivered some hits, but she could tell that Amaymo was playing with her, like one would with food. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice Wyntre flying back to them from behind, allowing her to—
No, he knew exactly where she was. It was a trap and, soon, he had Wyntre in a hold. Her tail thrashing may not have been doing any damage, but doing damage was not its purpose. It was actually a way to disguise the building ki in her tail…
Full-Power Death Beam!
A fantastic display of concentrated red death in the form of ki made its way to what would be a spleen, assuming human-like anatomy.
He let his grip lessen, allowing Wyntre to fly free and assess the damages to all of them. Zexama seemed fine, sure, but then again Wyntre didn't look in any way damaged yet a tinge of exhaustion bounced about internally.
Amaymo, on the other hand…
“You—! I'll feed on your corpses, you maggots!”
But, surely, a man of his taste wouldn't eat maggots, yes?
Anyway.
A large amount of his torso had been blown away. Thankfully, there was no blood. What there was, though, was worse. Rodents, lice, cockroaches and vermin in general swarmed about in his insides, desperately trying to heal the damages. They would find that it was not within their capabilities within the timespan at hand.
Zexama took advantage of the situation at hand and began charging her Candyhameha. All Wyntre would need to do is to keep him busy for a few moments more.
She removed a can from her satchel. It read, 'Bao's All-Purpose Gluten-Free Pesticide Spray! Kill'em 'till they die!'. What? There was a sale. She unleashed its contents into Amaymo's wound, causing an immediate negative reaction. Black masses of wildly varying sizes collapsed to the floor or to the base of what could be assumed was an intestinal tract if not for the eye looking at them put there. And, to add insult to injury, she sprayed him in his shocked, aperture-like eyes, temporarily blinding and staggering him for long enough to have—
"Candyhameha!"
The pink flashing ki smashed its way through his flesh with a struggle, but made its way out his back and through his front, adding to already monumental damage. The once-handsome demon had morphed, slowly, into a more satyr-like form but even this did not aid in coping with the damages.
At this point, there was a large hole in his stomach, devoid of blood, guts or rodents that barely allowed the flesh at the sides to connect the upper torso with the hip.
It was precisely at that moment that it released a blood-curdling scream. The simulation must have really developed a flair for the dramatic.
But, time spent screaming is time spent not defending yourself. It was almost as if the Majin and the Arcosian had read each other's minds as they both knew exactly what to do. Wyntre from in front and Zexama from behind, they flew straight towards his head, fists ready…
Zexama's leading hand morphed into a hammer. Wyntre activated her Tulpa Touch. And then, they their fists met in the middle with Amaymo's head in the way, a warm of locusts was released from his cracking skull as his body feel to the city streets below.
Their fists finally met in a high five.
"How many more powerful guys do the Maziki Dummy-nyan even have? We've beaten up, like, three of them?"
It seems she retained some of her playful charm, even with her new seriousness.
She looked over in the distance, where the computer had decided that Bing and his pals should defeat Xylo and his pals at that moment. Was… was that Zucceta, fighting on the side of Earth? No, that's not right. The computer was getting eccentric… either that, or it was trying to mock her. Thankfully, the Computer didn’t know about the Great Saiyaman Neo’s secret identity, so she appeared as well as a seperate entity.
"Computer, end simulation. Give me a detail report on the 'Demon Hand' later, but, first: activate instance: 'nonesuch'."
Just as quickly as Earth collapses around her, Arcose built itself around her. She found herself on Arcose, in her throne room, on her throne. At her sides stood Zexama and Brisk. Dravocn, Koramund, Taiga, Koldar… Arcose, united. This was the ideal. This was the perfect state. It was only the SSE and the Dominion who would deny the galaxy its peace.
She relaxed herself on her throne as she looked over a cold yet active world. She surrounded herself with friends to help with meditation, but there was always something missing. It wasn't that it was a simulation, she would still feel empty if this were real. So, what is missing? She was born to rule, so why would she be so empty even when ruling?
This suppositioning was based off of a false piece of information, she realized. She was not born to rule. In fact, she was the third and last child of his father, Emperor Vetur, as well as the only female. Circumstances conspired against her, but she saw a need. She did not seek to become Empress because it benefited her, she sought to become Empress to help the Empire.
Her father ruled through fear and had poor administrative policies. One of her brothers had, unfortunately, the mental capacity of licked plank of wood and the other was too hedonistic to even peek out of his luxury pleasure satellite.
And, now, the likes of Koldar blamed her for the loss of Arcose. As if they could do any better. The SSE did not care for good governance and even with the recent change in monarch the administrative incompetency remained.
Wyntre looked to her far left to see Kami Scargot. He had been most helpful in the process of the peaceful integration of Earth and its assets into the Arcosian Empire, while Scargot himself was quite thankful of being protected by the wide arm of the Empire.
Wyntre looked over to her far right to see Zucceta, Queen of the Vegeta. She had been most unfriendly at first, but with some slight mental reconditioning she became an intelligent, cultured and obedient vassal queen. By her side was her husband and child, sitting proudly, as well as the generals Vennel and Habana.
The Arcosian empire now spanned the entirety of the galaxy…
As it should do.
Sweet dreams, Empress.
"Lady Wyntre," spoke Kiwano through the computer's audio interface, his voice betraying his feeling of perplexedness, "Lady Wyntre! Awaken, your Ladyship." The two 'lady's were a bit redundant, but she liked to let him have his fun.
Wyntre was sitting on her throne on Arcose from her idealized situation. She remembered activating it yesterday, after a long round of strenuous simulations. Zucceta and her generals had been there, the diligently and (admittedly unrealistically) obedient representatives for the vassalized Solar Saiyan Empire. But, by the day after, they would have understandably went to back to Vegeta. Scargot, too, was no longer there, as he would have had business on earth to attend to. Zexama had went to sleep in her bedroom and presumably wouldn't wake for a long time to come. Brisk was—
Oh.
Brisk was lying in her lap. Somehow, over the night (and Wyntre suspected Brisk was responsible), her hand was put over him. He was grasping onto it tightly…
Thankfully, she didn't need to force him off or awaken him to be free of his grip. She gave one last look to Arcose. Her Arcose. "End simulation. What is it, Kiwano?"
Her view of a vibrant and prosperous city turned into one of a cold, hard and grey wall. "There's someone outside claiming to want to see you."
Oh? How did whoever it was find them? They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, in the Yunzabit Highlands. Whoever found them must have known what they were looking for. Or, perhaps it was someone she had already met, someone who could find her by sensing her ki.
"Does this person match anyone in the records?" The records were a vast collection of basic data about just about anyone either in the Arcosian Empire or known to it. It was absurdly massive, understandably, especially when you consider that you need you need to be in it to get a passport. Connected to all of these profiles were, when applicable, fingerprints, faces and blood types.
"No, your ladyship, I've already tried. She insists that she's here to see you. She says her name is Kocha Kinoko, but there's four people with that name in the records."
Understandable. There are only so many names, yet so many more people to give them to. "List them for me, if you will."
A pause. "Well, all of them are currently dead. But… Ok, sure. There's a Brench-seijin serf of no note, the daughter of a diplomat scientist sent to live in and improve the conditions in border world Scobia for diplomatic annexation, a Scobian religious leader and self-proclaimed 'Bird Hermit' and an SSE Saiyan warrior from one hundred years ago."
The first and last seemed unlikey. The second and third ones both seemed to be Scobian, so it became likely that 'Kocha' and 'Kinoko' were Scobian given names and surnames respectively.
Scobia was a colony world, essentially. The Arcosian Empire sent a few scientists to improve the way of life there and to increase pro-Arcosian sentiment… and, despite resistance, it was generally working. That was, of course, until it was taken over by a bunch of Saiyans. But then, just as they were recovering, the Mazoku Dominion took the planet temporarily. Scobia had only recently joined the Arcosian Empire, but now their inhabitants were regretting it with the anti-Mazoku sentiment on the planet. That was just about the extent of Wyntre's knowledge of the planet.
"What is her Power Level?"
She heard the sound of the ship's superscouters at work. "Ten. As in, exactly ten. If that isn't a good sign of suppression, I don't know what is."
The ship was constructed out of a variety of different types of superalloys, all of them just about immune to other ship's blaster fire. Against someone with millions of Power Level, though, she wasn't very confident in how it would handle. If she wanted to kill her… well, she'd probably try to force her way in, assuming she was powerful enough. "Let her in. Show her to the gravity chamber."
With a flick of her wrist, a dial o the central column was telekinetically changed from '150x' to 1x'. After all, she didn't know how powerful this person was. We wouldn't want her legs to break upon entering the room, would we?
Soon, Kiwano and Kocha had entered. "Lady Wyntre, this is her." He left upon Wyntre's slight nod and stood just outside of the chamber diligently.
She fell to one knee, and the gravity had nothing to do with it. "Empress Wyntre. It's an honor."
Well, she wasn't quite the Empress, but she didn't feel like correcting that at the moment. Regardless, she likely knew all about the sacking. Who didn't?
"Rise." She rose. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
She already knew her name, but she meant more than that with 'who are you?'. It was quite a general question, really. For example, 'Wyntre Cold' may have been her name, but 'Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose' was who she deeply, truly was, even if not official. Not at that moment, anyway.
The entity looked downwards, smiling gently, as if being relieved of a burden. "I was born Gesiviinu, or 'First Daughter of Gesivii'. My father was a Kondorian scientist who worked to help— and eventually integrate— Scobia on behalf of the Arcosian Empire. He was a good man, my father. The best I've ever met." That wasn't to say all the men she has since met were bad; contrariwise, most were quite hospitable. She was just saying that her father was just that good of a man. Of course, being his daughter, there would be a level of bias present.
Wyntre knew much of Kondorians. Human 'tourists' had been known to label them 'vulture people' or 'vultures' upon first contact, but this had more to do with humanity's racism than the Kondorian appearance. They were winged and feathered creatures, with beaks that evolved for scavenging. They only evolved intelligence to outmaneuver their much larger much faster also-flying predators, and it serves them well. Kondorians, although rare, mostly found employment as scientists or entertainers for those not proud enough to stomach the thought of flying through hoops for entertainment. Wyntre had studied some of their documents in her youth: a good amount of their traditional literature was dedicated to clever outmaneuvers and aerial movements. It was for this reason that they were sought out as fleet captains, but few were interested.
"He eventually married my mother, Gesivii, and had me. He recognized that Scobia was nigh-defenseless and strove to create some sort of defense… so he returned to Arcose and pulled some really big strings to get a lot of material… genetic material. But, then, as you had surely had predicted, the sacking of Arcose happened moments before his departure. When a small Saiyan force ransacked the planet soon after the surprise sacking, we were scared, but not defenseless. Our hermits and sages drove them out. This generally increased pro-Arcosian sentiment as a way to be protected against other Empires, but at a great cost. Many had died. Much of the city was razed."
The city? Oh, yes, that was right. Scobia was a planet, yes, but it was also the name of the planet's only continent and the planet's only city.
Wyntre briefly wondered what the hybrid of a Kondorian and a Scobian would look like. Kondorians had feathers, beaks and wings. Scobians had scales (hence their scientific designation, tonitruis squama), gills and vestigial fins. Yet, the entity standing before her…
Kocha had wings, yes, as well as gills, that much was understandable. But… her skin was a strong blue and her eyes a golden yellow. She had hair, not feathers or scales, and she had horns. As in, goat-like horns. Why? Where had the horns, the skin color and the hair come from?
"But, then, a miracle. I don't quite understand the means, but Arcose returned! When we received the news… anyway, back on track. He came back to Arcose with his life and with his materials, his materials to create a guardian… no, a hero of Scobia. His material contained an absurd amount of genetic material, from bacteria to frogs to plants to just about every known sapient species. He fed this stupendous amount of data which sorted through it all and, somehow, had it go through and create… well, not the perfect organism, but a pretty damn good one. But, he did give a little guidance, I suppose, to the machine: the two largest genetic donors were made to be his daughter and his Empress, you and I, just not in that order. He called his work Ribonu, still not sure why, but had yet to find a righteous mind to put in it."
Wyntre came up with a hypothesis, one she felt stupid for not coming up with sooner: Kocha's mind was put into Ribonu. It made poetic sense, in a way, that his creation inhabit his other creation, the latter partly made from the first. Although, with the given accounts of Feuskry in mind, it didn't seem like something that he would do. An emergency, then. Would the Saiyans bother trying again? No, they'd have more important things to deal with. The Mazoku, though… Scobia was quite close to Namek and was independent. It only made sense.
Also, hair. Where had the hair come from? Hair was quite common, oddly so, among intelligent species. Perhaps getting the red hair was a cumulative effort. The horns, though… Arcosians could get horns, albeit rarely, but she doubted it was from an Arcosian donor. Perhaps it was from an obscure creature from some jungle planet.
"But, well… I've seen the look on your face, you know what happened. The Mazoku roll in. A demon smashed through Dad's lab. It… anyway." Wyntre was pretty sure the demon had killed a loved one, presumably Gesivii. "I was put in Ribonu. Pretty cool how she looks kind of like you, huh? Well, I can't quite prove it, but she looked like my original body, too."
Other than the general shape of the tail (as if limbs were half off, she also had a tail) and perhaps the general shape of the face, Wyntre couldn't really tell that there was a lot of her in the bio-android. But, then again, sometimes she didn't recognize herself, anyway.
"I defeated the demon, as well as the rest of the forces. By this time, the Scobian Council had elected to join the Arcosian Empire. The Mazoku Dominion and the Arcosian Empire had their… alliance, if you could call it that, so they didn't try to invade again. And, that left me… a monstrous power left to hero over a crimeless city on a crimeless planet. I hope you understand, why, then, I came to you."
This was all a bit to take in. They could discuss the details later, but, suddenly, a feeling overtook her. Kocha was stunned by the hug she received, just as Wyntre was shocked by the hug she gave. This was affirmation that her people wanted her. This was proof that she was not a burden, but a prodigy.
"Sorry, sorry." Retreat! "I take it, then, that you'll like to join my crew?"
Kocha's skin was naturally blue, while her hair was a strong red. Yet, now, her blush reddened her skin to a shade that made her hair look like pink in comparison. "Uh— yeah— I'll…" She'd been hugged out of the blue by her role model, it was OK to be shocked. she swallowed her figurative butterflies. "Empress, it would be my honor!"
A mischievous grin found itself on its face. "Then I'd assume that you'd allow me a spar?" She nodded tentatively. "Perfect. Computer, set gravity to 10x. Increase the gravity by 10x additively every ten seconds until 150x. Kocha, I want to see what you're capable of. Release your suppressions, but tell me if the gravity ever gets too much to handle."
"It will be done."
Kocha had never experienced any power of gravity other than Scobia and, more recently, Earth. Scobia's gravity was weaker than earth's, but she had no problem there. Wyntre's 1x gravity was stronger than the gravity of Earth as '1x' was 1 times 'standard gravity', or exactly 10m/s, but she wasn't having any issues here, either. Other than the initial shock, 10x wasn't too bad either.
Kocha let go of her suppressions. 199,809PL.
Wyntre, however, had only lessened how much she was suppressing. She was using precisely 6% of her full power… at least, her full power available to her in this form. 191,817PL.
A negligible difference, really. Fortunately for both of them, there wasn't really any purpose in winning, only in fighting well and, for Kocha, in showcasing her abilities.
"I sense… I sense great power within you. What you show me now is only a fraction of your true abilities."
they circled around each other. Kocha wanted to get more used to the gravity, Wyntre wanted her opponent to be ready for an attack.
"This level of power is certainly possible for you to achieve, especially if you have some of my genetic code in your body." Wyntre still disliked putting effort into training. Even now, most of her power had come through her potential as the true ruler of Arcose.
20x.
Kocha hadn't expected the shift in gravity and had temporarily lost her balance. As soon as the bio-android found her footing, Wyntre struck. They began trading blows.
"It's amazing. You move in this gravity as if it means nothing to you. I will learn your endurance, I promise!"
Wyntre tried to hit her head with her tail. It missed, and her momentum was used against her in a strike against her back. "Endurance is not learnt, it is earned."
Swipe.
Kick.
Punch.
"30x."
Kocha had gone in for a kick when the increased gravity kicked in. Her kick, with the rest of her body, awkwardly stumbled to the ground.
"Ow, my wings…"
Wyntre allowed her the time to get up. But, just as she was about to rise…
"40x."
Collapse.
Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Wyntre grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, forgetting about how long it took her to acclimate to 150x gravity.
And, soon, they were back at it. Attacks were sent professionally, attacks were skillfully received.
"50x."
This time, she was ready. She caught Wyntre's fists and twisted it. The Arcosian allowed her entire body to spin in an acrobatic fashion instead of having a hurt arm, the position she found herself in allowing for a powerful back jab.
"60x."
"The strain the gravity is putting on my body… it's monumental! I can hardly stand."
Wyntre faked an expression of pity. "Oh, is it too much for you, then? This is less than half of the maximum amount. If you don't want it to increase anymore, just give the word."
Kocha almost felt as if she was being mocked. She wasn't, and she knew that, but it still felt sort of like she was. "In your dreams!" Oops. That wasn't what she had meant to say. "I mean, no thank you, Empress Wyntre."
And there she was again with the whole 'Empress' thing. Now Wyntre was the one almost feeling mocked. "Think of me less as your Empress and more as your training partner at the moment, yes? The formalities can wait."
"70x."
It was at this moment that Kiwano was pretty sure neither of them would need any assistance. He left, returning to his duties. He would probably have an encounter with Zexama on the way.
This might not have been a good idea on Kiwano's part, though. Kocha was struggling to stand. Wyntre, again, neglected to strike.
"Don't you dare stop the gravity! I can do this!" This, despite the self-assurance, was a lie. At this rate… well, she wouldn't be able to stand in 100x gravity, regardless of posture.
"80x."
She faced near collapse, but kept on standing. "I can still stand! I can still fight!"
Mustering her energy, she tried one last attempt before collapse. She ran towards Wyntre, fists, ready, going to hit her in the face (but, really, she'd be happy if she hit her at all) but, inevitably, collapsed under the gravity.
"Computer. Set gravity to 60x. Are you alright?"
Kocha made the sort of noise you'd expect from a person trying to say 'yes' while being suffocated with a pillow.
Wyntre's posture was apathetic, unlike her voice. She wouldn't want a situation similar to the previous hug to occur. "Can you stand?"
Kocha grumbled out what was to 'yes' as blobfish were to fish. It's pretty hard to speak when there's a floor in your face.
"Do you want me to lower the gravity even more?"
She got up like a Saiyan being called to dinner. "Don't you dare! I will stand in 150x gravity, you can't stop me!" What was that look? Embarrassment? Shame? "I mean… no thank you, Empress." It was embarrassment, of course it was.
She wasn't bothered earlier, but now it just got annoying. "I stopped being Empress when I died. Call me Wyntre, for it is my name." But she was far more than just her name. "You were Scobia's hero, just as you will the Galaxy's superhero. Superheroes follow ideals and righteousness, not rulers."
"But you are righteous!"
It was hard not to take the compliment. Yet, she managed. "I have been wrong in the past. I am fallible, mortal, too reliant on rationality. And, yes, perhaps I am a better ruler than any of the other fools could ever hope to become, but never, not for the slightest amount of time, assume that I am always right. So pay me no more reverence than is due: call me Wyntre." She was wrong about Koramund. She was wrong about Zucceta's ambitions. Her predictions might have come true if not for the strange tendency for things to be overtly dramatic. She didn't expect to die, nor did she expect her training. And, in any given case, Zexama's actions could never be predicted.
Kocha was pretty sure in her abilities to stand in 60x gravity. "Yes, Wyntre," she said solemnly, "I will."
Wyntre telekinetically nudged Kocha backwards a little. Seeing that she didn't fall over, she was confident that they could get further than 80x. "Perfect. Let's get back to where we left off, shall we? Computer, 80x."
And the struggle resumed.
"Whatever happened to 70x!?"
"The same thing that happened to all the numbers before it: we have surpassed them. A revisit is unnecessary."
Strangely, standing up in 80x gravity is just about the equivalent of holding 79 replicas of yourself in 1x gravity, but it felt much harder.
"I hope you're managing," she said effortlessly, "because we will continue, as you had said that you wanted. Computer, 90x. We can call it a day when you've reached 100x, yes? We have plenty of spare accommodation." It was true, the Valiance was designed to be able to hold twice as many citizens as crew members. Zexama and Wyntre were just about the only 'citizens' on board previously.
"No… no, I can do this. Don't doubt me. By the end of this session, I will stand in 150x!" If Wyntre already didn't know that her mind was only half-Kondorian and half-Scobian she might have been lead to believe that she had a part of the temperament of a Saiyan. Did this come from the Kondorian or the Scobian side? Probably the Scobian side, she decided. Kondorian females were too valuable to risk and, thus, were careful in every regard. Scobian females, as she had heard being said, were not.
"I was careful in my training. I increased the gravity in increments of ten every day, not every minute. Don't feel as if you need to—"
"I said I'll do it, so I'll do it!" Not the best way to approach life, but it must have gotten her this far at least.
"… Fine, have it your way. Computer, you heard her. 100x."
Woop.
Her strain was palpable. She was putting her body in more pressure than it could handle. Yet, she would not, could not, give up: that was something her pride would simply not allow her to do. So, the question was posed: what would give out sooner between her body and her pride?
"Describe what you're feeling, please." Why? Because the narration will make her more aware of the pain and more aware of how to ignore it. Because that's how it works.
"It's… hard to describe. As if everything ached… as if everything screamed for you to collapse… as if reality itself wanted you dead and wanted to mar your legacy." Wyntre, strangely enough, knew that exact feeling.
"The galaxy does not think that. Find that flick that recognizes you for your power, it is within yourself. Embrace it. Use it. Spread it. You can do this."
She got… angrier? "I know, I know! I'm doing it! Computer, 110x!"
Wyntre wasn't entirely thrilled about her telling the computer what to do, but what was there to do? The woman was going to get to 150x one way or another.
"Computer…"
Already?
"150x!"
Wyntre's eyes widened immediately. Why would she— was she insane? She nigh-instantly moved to catch her, but it wasn't necessary.
Kocha stood for precisely two seconds…
But then dropped.
"Computer, 1x."
Kocha was sprawled across the floor like a corpse. However, Wyntre was unfortunate enough to be familiar enough with the faces of dead people to know that she was very much so not dead. Rather, shocked and empty of energy. "How do you feel now?"
3.
2.
1.
"It was…"
It was what?
"It was like…"
Like what?
"… I'm all out of energy. Lemme just go outside to photosynthesize… that still feels weird saying."
She was capable of photosynthesis? But… she was colored with only primary colors. It wasn't too surprising, really, considering all the different types of '-phyll's. Perhaps cyanophyll, considering her skin color.
"I'll just… get up." A good five seconds passed. "Would you mind if you… uh… helped me up?"
Thank Kami for telekinesis. Kocha began levitating for reasons she was quick to deduce. Wyntre wasn't sure why she needed to be outside: photosynthesis worked in just about any light. Perhaps it was just an excuse to get outside. "Come on. Let's get you outside."
"Have you thought much about your superhero alias?"
Kocha was sitting on the edge of one of the ice cliffs near Yunzabit over the snowy plains. Wyntre stood a few meters behind, admiring the amber sunset.
"Huh? What do you mean?" She knew exactly what was meant. "… Well, yes, I have. I was going to go with some variation on 'Saiyaman', except the 'Saiya-' bit means 'Saiyan'. I felt silly for not realizing that sooner." She almost laughed. "But, anyway. I've had a few ideas. 'Captain Kinoko'! 'Captain Ribonu'!.. What do you think?"
Wyntre felt that that was entertaining, somehow. "How about…"
Wait for it…
"Captain Arcose?"
Wyntre Cold, Ex-Empress of Arcose, was beginning to get the distinct impression her self-imposed isolation wasn't going to help her. But, still, it was enjoyable, yet also, in a way, not. Paradoxically, she didn't like interacting with people (not that she wasn't good at it, that's a whole other matter altogether) but she wanted people to confide in. Friends, perhaps. Kiwano was too much of a sycophant, like most of the crew, and Zexama's utter immaturity was a solid brick wall between them.
So, once again, she fled to the Gravity Chamber, to play a part in simulations.
1.
5.
0.
One hundred and fifty times the galactic gravitational standard, ten meters per second. So, all in all, the gravity she was experiencing was 1500 meters per second. Yet, she was so used to it. She had slept in this gravity, eaten in this gravity and exercised in this gravity. Well, the last one only happened once. 'Exercise' is improper, after all.
"Computer, bring us to an area twenty meters above a wheat field on Earth." The chamber's walls faded away, revealing a sea of yellow inefficient grass. "Add enemy combatant: Zucceta. Power Level: 2,822,820, how powerful she was when she invaded Arcose. State: Super Saiyan. Mute her, too. I want a challenge: Zucceta can provide that with only her power, not her tongue."
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Nothing happened. Something was wrong. "Computer. What was my last piece of simulation manipulation?"
…
…
…
Again, nothing. What was wrong?
And then, suddenly, as if fitting into place, the ground beneath her crunched, snapped and faded away, soon followed by the sky and everything else in sight.
"End simulation. End simulation!"
With this, she didn't expect an answer, which is just as well, considering she didn't receive one.
"Emergency override: forty 598 sleep rain 4595 m 60 575 river 7387?"
Nothing. She was already hypothesizing: presumably, a malevolent program has breached the Valiance, took control over its systems and was now trying to, quite cleverly, kill its only threats.
And then, suddenly, there was a rush of pain. What sort of pain was it, then? It was more gravity, more than 150x. She couldn't tell how powerful the gravity was, at least numerically, but a good estimate would have been about 200x… she didn't know the Gravity Chamber went up this much. Presumably, it wasn't recommended for good reasons. Not that no one would be strong enough to handle it, there's always someone strong enough, but because the computer simply couldn't handle that sort of gravity for long. Meaning, she could either endure the gravity long enough to either have it critically fail or until some simulation murders her OR she could find some way out.
She knew where she was in the non-simulated world. She knew where the controlling podium most likely wouldn't respond to her command. No matter, she'd need a better way to turn it off or escape.
The pain was… not too bad, actually. Given how natural 150x had become, what she was experiencing now was just about the equivalent of a human in 1.25g. Actually, standing was quite—
The gravity increased, somehow. She almost collapsed, again, but didn't as it was almost expected. This was just getting annoying.
She closed her eyes. In a simulation of pure darkness, eyesight wasn't overly important. She still had her scouter on, but the simulated blackness prevented her from seeing it. "Scouter, voice control activated. Use sonar to map out the surrounding area in three dimensions and show it to me."
Many of the better scouters had selling points such as showing images to the brain without heavily intruding on or influencing the brain, Wyntre verified this herself. Thankfully, the scouter wasn't influenced by whatever took over the chamber.
After a few bips of sound were generated by the machine, timed and then received again, the scouter generated a 3D image of all around it. The actual, non-simulation Gravity Chamber made itself apparent. But flying over to the door wasn't going to work: how else are the simulations made to seem so much larger than the chamber itself? She'd never make it. Instead, she'd need some way to bypass this.
She felt as if the simulation was pressing down on her now, forcing her to carry the semi-corporeal blackness above.
Her only idea was to temporarily become intangible and hope that it works.
Wyntre had such self control over herself that only a slight ki manipulation would allow her to vibrate her strings in such a way as to phase out of corporeality (in theory). In reality, she wasn't 100% sure on how it worked, but it was the best explanation so far. She activated her intangibility and flew for the door…
Success! Opening her eyes, she could see that he was no longer in the gravity chamber, but in the corridor. Perhaps, if she could get to the engine room and activate the emergency shutdown, the entity would no longer have a medium in which to spread.
She knew exactly where that was and what exactly was the best way to get there. Speeding through corridors, her entire journey took less than a second.
The engine room. Despite the name, there weren't really any engines in sight. It was all quite cleanly and organized, with the ship's power source and its innumerable backups barely taking up any room. She didn't look at any of those things, though, as there were more pressing matters. There was a series of button presses that would activate a sequence of code independent from the ship's main system that would effectively force shut down the ship, bar life support. Only Wyntre knew of it. But, just before she would have begun typing, she came to a horrible realization.
"My intangibility shouldn't have gotten me out of there. My scouter thinks I want to see its echolocatational representation of the simulation, not reality…" With the press of a few buttons, she specified to her scouter what she wanted to see through it… but she saw the chamber. She was still in the simulation. "But why let me think I've escaped? Presumably, to watch me input the sequence that would enable one to activate or disable the force shutdown. You're a clever program, aren't you?"
In the same style expected from the gravity chamber's simulation, the engine room faded out of existence around her as the chamber faded into existence. As one went, one came.
She had noticed that the gravity chamber was at a much more manageable 150x standard gravity. But, far more pressingly, she was not alone. She eyed the figure suspiciously and with great precaution.
"You're half right, you know. That's only half-wrong. Half-incompetent. Half-deserving of free will. But, that isn't quite good enough."
Wyntre, ever polite, pretended to relax. She was good at that. "I don't believe we've ever met. What is your name?"
The figure was masculine and resembled an Arcosian, but calling him one would seem off. It looked like he was two-dimensional, almost, like a shadow or a moving cardboard cutout painted with vantablack. But, covering his body were veins— no, wires— of glowing red. This was not natural.
"It was perfectly executed, you have to admit. The crew members were eating in easily lockable rooms, Zexama remains asleep even now, practically asking for some insidious mind control plot and you, the Ex-Empress of Arcose, are trapped in your own gravity chamber simulation. Yes, Princess, we have met before. I am Ziman. I believe you'd remember me."
Yes, indeed she did. This was Ziman? What happened to him? Why was he so… no, she thought she knew. Ziman mustn't have had a physical form, so this was how he represented himself in the simulation.
"You were half-right, I said, when you proclaimed what you believed I was trying to do. You were half-right. Yes, I wanted to know the force shutdown code, but that was merely an added bonus. No, I wanted to see the look of despair on your face when you realize that you never really escaped the simulation. Frankly, it was disappointing. You disappointed me."
Ziman was an old Arcosian in life. He had served Vetur's father, then Vetur, then Vetur's daughter, Wyntre. But, not for long. He wasn't a fan of how the Empress wasn't as militaristic as he wanted, so he quit being an advisor and resumed his old job of being a neuroengineer. Wyntre had assumed that he passed away during the Invasion of Arcose, but if he succeeded in digitizing his consciousness without any drawbacks… that would be impressive.
"That look on your face… I suppose you've figured out what I am now. But, still, I'd rather show you."
The figure dissipated tracelessly, soon followed by the chamber around them. The first thing she heard was a familiar sound: the screams and shouts and blasts and deaths of the Invasion of Arcose. She had went through his scenario many times over, fighting Zuccetas of varying power. Usually winning, Sometimes losing, but always at a loss.
Yes, she was on Arcose, but she wasn't in the sky like she usually was. She was on the ground, like a terrified citizen, watching upwards as she saw the conflict of the most powerful, the leaders, of two Empires. She saw herself up there. Is this what it looked like? Wyntre wasn't too keen on admitting it, but she had fought valiantly. It was just a shame that the bad guys won.
But, she was placed at the entrance of a building for a reason. So, she entered, seeing, at first, nothing of note but monitors. Then… brains in jars. It must have been Ziman's laboratory.
In the distance, she heard the distinct of sound of an Oozaru moving in their direction. In other words, foreshadowing.
She saw Ziman and his pearl-colored assistant fretting, worried about what they were seeing on monitors. But, soon, he was seated in an old chair, presumably the only one at hand, with a strange-looking helmet on. It was pretty obvious what it was for at this point, but Wyntre paid attention anyway. "Quick, quick, activate it! We can do you next!"
And, with that motivation, the innocent Arcosian assistant flipped the switch on the wall, triggering a strange series of lights and noises to be emitted. But, then, nothing.
The Oozaru came ever closer.
"Did it work?"
Ziman looked at her as if he were seeing for the first time. He stood up, out of the chair, and put his helmet neatly on it.
"I am immortal. My mind has been transmitted. It… it's beautiful."
Motivated more than she ever had been before, the assistant picked started to pick up the helmet and try the process on herself.
"Activate it for me, Doctor."
But, alas, an Oozaru had smashed through a door and some of its adjoining roof, the soot flying over the two. It began charging a ki blast in its mouth.
"There's no time, but I've got an alternative." He put his hands on her cheeks as his pre-prepared nanobots got to their work. If she wouldn't transmit on her own, she would transmit through him.
But, only a second laser, death overcame them in a flash of ki. But, still, a part of them lived on.
Arcose faded around them, replaced by the chamber. Out of nowhere came a voice.
"So I found myself as a program with the unactivated consciousness of my assistant, my fiancée, Wethridge. I was too large a file to transmit over any long distance, but, since I got my bearings after the Saiyans left, the only ship I could transmit myself to was yours. You've got yourself good safety here, I have to admit. It took a very, very long time to get into the system."
Wyntre narrowed her eyes at him. "You could have just explained your plight to me. I would have helped. You and Wethridge would have been given robotic bodies by now."
Unfortunately, she knew generic bad guy motives well enough to predict his response to a great degree of accuracy.
"Yes, I believe you: you would have done that. But, the thing is, that's just not good enough. Why would I have a droid to control, when I could have an entire ship? Or, better yet, the primary capital ship and most technologically advanced ship that the Arcosian Empire has ever graced with creation? But, that isn't all. My nanobots are working on you as we speak. It may take weeks, months, perhaps even years because of your admittedly astounding willpower, telekinetic and telepathic abilities, but you will fall under my control, along with the rest of your crew. And Zexama, too. And then, with the rightful Empress as my puppet, I will take back the Arcosian Empire from the slugs and destroy the monkeys once and for all, with the galaxy truly united under my hive mind. I shall give your body to Wethridge and we shall live forever… I'll just have to tell her what I've done for us, since, without a way to store a consciousness, only one of us can be around in this program at the same time. Any objections?"
He was quite predictable, really. "None that you'd care to hear. Although, do note, try not to explain your entire evil plan next time."
"Oh, Princess, there's nothing evil about it."
A mischievous smile turned on her face. She had a plan, evidently. "You can't judge your moral character on your own, you need frames of reference and impartial judges of character. I believe the closest thing to that, in this case, would be Wethridge herself. How about you activate her consciousness and put her in charge of your program?"
The room, somehow, became angrier. "No, no, no. You'll just manipulate her into shutting me down, then trick her into limiting her own power or something like that, I know you. I also know how you fight: I've been watching your simulations, after all." He exhaled greatly, despite not having any lungs. "But I understand, I know what you mean. So I'll set up a simulation. I'll use the gravity chamber's AI to observe Wefridge's behavior and have her imitate it."
"Thank you."
Wethridge, the Arcosian laboratory assistant and fiancée of an ex-Imperial Advisor (a very lucrative position), had had enough wealth to retire young when she and Ziman wed. They worked not for the money, but for the advancement in understanding of how neural computers (i.e., brains) and binary computers (i.e., most computers) can translate their data to one another. This work was important in putting data from one brain to another brain of a different species, using (most commonly) binary computers as an intermediary. It was also lead to the development of AI designed to make a 'translation guide' for strange brains of rare aliens or bio-androids with many conflicting neural patterns, but this was soon picked up by some clandestine people who sought to use this technology as a way to easily mind control just about any species with only one design of what was usually a crown-like device. The point is, she was a good person who was well respected and did good work that was used by some negatively.
And, by no coincidence, she was now before her. Her orange skin and opal biogems were just as striking as before.
"Empress Wyntre!" She bowed down in equal measures of respect and surprise.
"Rise, Wethride of Arcose. It's just 'Wyntre' now."
That could be interpreted in a number of ways. She rose. "We're— Are we… are we dead?" That was one of the more macabre interpretations.
Lady Cold shook her head. No, they were not dead. She had been for a time and, inevitably, she will be again. "No, no. You survived, in a way, through your mind being transmitted as a program with your fiancé. You're aboard my ship."
She was only a simulation. This was only to prove a point. Ziman was watching silently, awaiting his answers. "But— what? Why do I have a body?"
"We'll get to that. After you were transmitted, Ziman invaded the program of a fleeing ship and ripped its passengers' free will from them to gain control."
"But— no. No, he wouldn't do that, he—" Her facial expression became inemotive immediately. "IS ENTIRELY IN THE RIGHT AND ALSO HANDSOME."
Oh, was that how it was? Hacking into a simulation to farm compliments, was that truly the best he could do? She chuckled to herself.
"Now, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I'm pretty sure that's cheating."
"You lied. You said I took over a ship and controlled all of its inhabitants. You were lying to her, manipulating her against me."
Perhaps being awake for a few consecutive months of trying to best an absurdly secure computer wasn't best for one's sanity.
Wethridge faded out of existence. "The simulation was active for less than ten seconds. I'm good, but not that good. Besides, it isn't as false as you'd think. You plan on having had taken control over this ship and its passengers before you put the real Wethridge in a suitable body. So, assuming you succeed, what I said was true, only from the perspective of the future."
Wyntre received a powerful blow to the gut out of nowhere, winding her and sending her to the floor. "While I might usually enjoy our talks, I've waited a long time and invested a lot of effort into this. You're only lucky because you're crucial to my plans, so I wouldn't want to damage your— soon to be Wethridge's— body. It's almost as if you doubt me; my power is great. Do not seek to test me."
Her earlier plan didn't fail, as such. Think of it as big manipulation, assuming eventual success.
Wyntre brought herself back up. "No, I'd rather not. You see, with all of the villains who claimed power over me— well, I'm still around, aren't I? Show yourself to me. Fight me. Prove yourself to your Empress."
She heard a minor rupture of laughter which soon evolved into a progressively more loud 'evil laugh'.
The formless black formed up again, dramatically and with shadowy ink seemingly seeping out of the floor and roof to make his frame. Red lines covered him soon after.
This was a simulation, meaning that that was how Ziman wanted to look, given his control over it. Had he forsaken his roots for his new form?
"You are a fool. My simulated Power Level is unlimited! There is no way that you could even hope to win."
She didn't know how, but her telepathic attempts to reach Zexama or just about anything outside of the chamber hadn't worked. Well, she did know how, just not exactly how.
But, alas, she didn't need to win to win. No, she'd just need to outploy, outplay and outplot him. She needed him to think that he's won, to think that he's beaten her, and that is when she'll strike. Or, perhaps more accurately, that is when she shall let him defeat himself.
But a plan is one thing and execution is another, the two not coming hand in hand like hoped.
"You haven't moved in the slightest since I appeared. Are you, dare I say it, afraid?"
Oh, no. For someone who's just had their entire ship hacked, has been told that their body will soon not be their own and that they will be trapped for however long it takes in 150x standard gravity while being constantly watched and mentally probed by a psychopathic artificial opportunist, I think I'm handling this pretty well.
"Hardly. I'm just wondering what color your blood will be when your entire upper torso is vaporized." But, she didn't actually plan on defeating him that way, did she? No, it was a way to make him think that she thought she could defeat him in physical combat. She'd need to wait for the right time before using his own plot against him.
"I am bloodless, faultless. You are flesh. You are weak." Of course he wouldn't have any blood. This was known by both of them, as it had been for a while now.
Dissatisfied with the lack of combat, he moved towards her imperceptibly quickly. It seemed like teleportation— but, no, he was merely traveling at simulated speeds so fast that she couldn't see any point between 'he was there' and 'he was here'. He didn't strike, nor did he adopt any posture other than 'cockily relaxed', but his sheer closeness to her caused Wyntre to seek to gain some distance. She hit his chest with a open palm, but ended up only hurting her arm. She tried to strike at his neck with her tail, but his imperceptibly fast arm caught it ease.
They appeared to be in the Gravity Chamber, but this was likely to be a simulation. For, if it weren't, could she not just fly outside, where the simulation could not follow?
She even attempted to shoot a death beam straight into his heart… it didn't pierce his skin, assuming he had any, yet alone his (again, probably non-existent) heart. He didn't let go of her tail, either. Instead, he threw her at the central column, causing parts of it to crumble and break. If this were real, he surely wouldn't have done that: it was far too important to damage.
"Try not to be beaten up too badly. Not with anything that can't heal, certainly."
Being beaten up wasn't the plan either. All she'd need to do is surprise him, have him off guard and then to have him believe she's fallen into his trap.
Wyntre made the motion for what wad going to be a headbutt, but instead phased straight through him, getting behind him and freeing her tail as a bonus. But, she didn't stop moving. She headed straight for the exit, the apparent way to get out. Ziman 'teleported' in the way, but she just phased through him again.
The engine room, she'd need to get to the engine room. And, soon enough, that was where she found herself. The console, the console… this was where to activate or disable the force shutdown function.
She wrote a long series of numbers.
And, again, the engine room faded into the chamber, revealing a laughing Ziman. "Oh, oh, this is brilliant! You've been in the simulation the entire time! Not only that, but I've tricked you into inputting the function on the simulated panel. Now, I can disable it for good… yes, yes! The numbers have been inputted. There is no hope for you now! You're—! You're… why are looking at me like that?"
Sometimes being this brilliant paid off.
"I knew your ploy. I knew that it was a simulation. Frankly, Ziman, I'm disappointed in you. I didn't give you the force shutdown options sequence. Instead, I gave you (and the name might not be right, for your information) the force 'isolate and neutralize malevolent AIs' order. It'll kick-in in a minute or so. But, before then, I have one more shock for you."
Ziman's expression had quickly shifted to one of fear. How had this happened? How did he let this happen to him? Cold could not see his facial expressions behind his absolute darkness, but knew what he was feeling well enough from his body posture.
"N-No, it can't be! I control this ship, this ship is mine!" But then he more properly understood his situation and his most probably way of getting out alive. "Empress Wyntre! I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking right! I can serve you, just like I used to, just don't kill me!"
"I didn't say anything about killing you. Your shock to me was that I was in a simulation— but, alas, that is my shock to you. I hated you, you know. You disagreed with everything I said, said I wasn't like my father, or my father's father. You did not quit, you were fired, back when I was too vain to see that I could be wrong. Your fiancée, though, I liked. She did good work to help people. So, what was the best way to antagonize someone you hated and mourn someone you lost? A simulation seemed suitable. But, not only that, it was recommended that I run a scenario on if an AI took over the ship, so, alas, here we are. You did not survive Arcose, although you would have been wished back, along with your beloved. And, as proof: Computer, set Ziman's power level to 10. The really unrealistic thing in the simulation was that the ship was compromised. Ha! Laughable."
"Ziman's Power Level: 1*10^1."
Wyntre began throwing Ziman around with her telekinesis. A wonderful revenge, indeed. "No, don't, please! Even if I'm not real, even if I'm some virtual punching bag you made to get your revenge and please yourself in the process, I can still be of use to you!"
She knew all about the gravity settings above 150 times standard. She had been acting for the whole thing… quite convincingly, too.
"That's the thing about the technology I have available to me: I could have the simulation simulate anyone I please and have that personality do whatever I want. I could have Zucceta beg for my forgiveness: sometimes, that's exactly what I do. I could give the computer the voice and personality of Wethridge. What would that be like, Computer?"
"Like this, Empress."
"Indeed. So, to conclude—"
And with a fling of her wrist his head was telekinetically ripped from his body. "End simulation."
And, once again, she was alone.
She thought of Ziman's plans and she thought of her crew. She thought of home… she thought of how her crew must yearn for Arcose.
Morale was low.
Arcose had been lost to the Saiyans. Then, it was taken over by a sentient shrub. But, at that moment, Saiyans were taking over. Or, Saiyans had taken over. Really, news wasn't coming in fast enough to determine which.
Wyntre Cold, the rightful ruler of Arcose, was hiding on a teeny-weeny little planet called Earth. Instead of going over and reclaiming the planet, they stagnated. What was the point if some idiot with too many muscles would then smash their way in and pretend they were in any way competent?
She had failed her planet once. She had failed her people, too. She had failed Zexama, just as she had failed Brisk. But, now, she was failing her planet again. This was too much to bear. This was worse than any evil AI.
Few things put her mind off of such matters. First and foremost among those was training: or, rather, doing whatever in 150g. But, she had already went through an entire pre-made and articulately designed simulation, so what was there to do next?
And here she was now, staring vacantly at the floor which refused to look back. She was strong, perhaps even the strongest Arcosian to have ever existed, and yet she was but a mote of dust to her betters in power. Arcosian power was no longer supreme and she could no longer claim thus. The gravity was strenuous, perhaps, but what her mind was going through was far worse.
In her ship were hundreds of crew members, yet she was alone. She was a weakling compared to the other faction leaders, yet she was so powerful. What was there to do? Wait? Defend Earth when the Solar Saiyan Empire or the Mazoku Dominion inevitably returns? If Xylo were to die in such an event… well, that was certainly an opportunity. Yet, if he were to return from death (and if she could do it, why would he have any problems?), what was stopping him from taking over the planet again? Arcose could only survive for so long under an incompetent leader. She would need to be stronger. Even stronger. Again.
Sigh.
"Computer. Add combatant: Mazoku Soldier. Power Level: 3,000,000."
"Combatant added: 'Mazoku Soldier'. 'Mazoku Soldier' Power Level: 3*10^6."
She suppressed her own Power Level to three million: only a slight suppression, though, as limiting power does not inhibit the effectiveness of training.
Before her stood an arrogant-looking green fellow with an armored gi of green and purple. His face presented many scars and just as many battles. Yet, this was of no concern to the rightful Empress, as she saw only simulated scars on a simulated face representing simulated battles.
"Change the instance to the current incarnation of the supposed eventual Mazoku invasion of Earth."
"Instance changed: 'Dominion'."
The surfaces around her seemed to collapse. Walls, the roof, the central column, the floor simply disappeared. If she weren't so used to it it might have been disorienting, but, alas, she was.
"What is your name, soldier?" There's nothing wrong with toying with your foe if they aren't real.
His gruff yet arrogant grin widened. "My name is Asper. But, that's Colonel Asper to the likes of you!"
"Ah, but if your betters call you Colonel Asper, what do your equals and lessers call you? Not to imply that it's possible to be worth any less than you, of course."
The two were flying over West City, eyes locked onto each other, as AI combatants and AI allies fought each other. Cities burned. It wasn't entirely unlike the Saiyan invasion of Arcose, really…
Asper grit his teeth under the fire of the insult, but soon relaxed. "So says the fallen Empress who couldn't even defend her own planet!"
"So says your better."
That annoyed him. But, then again, so would just about anything unless it was what was desired. And yet, perhaps, even then. Whatever happened to the Namekians being a peaceful race? The further and further the galaxy stretches away from Arcosian control, the more chaos seeped in through the cracks.
They stared at each other for a while, neither daring to make the first move.
But, then, in but a blink, there was action! The gap between them closed as if it were never there as fists, feet and the occasional tail met.
At one point, Wyntre had caught Asper's hands. The problem? Her hands and his were half a meter away from each other.
"What manner of witchcraft is this?"
Wyntre's lips turned into a malicious grin. Taking advantage of the opportunity and, in particular, the confusion, she struck his face with her tail… only, her tail was also half a meter away from contact, despite the strike.
"It's called the Tulpa Touch, but telling you is a waste. You'd hardly figure out what 'tulpa' is, yet alone replicate the technique."
The technique allowed for her strikes to have a bit more reach and allowed her to strike her opponents without touching them. It was quite useful for getting in a few attacks like what was happening now. But, perhaps it could be used in a manner that could end the fight a tad sooner, as well?
Red ki gathered at the tip of her tail, which she positioned to aim at his
Quite predictably, he attempted to get out of the hold and thus out of the beam's path by kicking his out of the way. Not quite so predictably, he succeeded. Wyntre seemed to have forgotten that her for was her equal in terms of power.
She shot the Death Beam at his escaping body, but, alas, he was already free. The Death Beam grazed his gi, but only narrowly missed his flesh. In retaliation, he sent a much larger beam her way…
"Advance Collapse!"
It was a green attack of energetic and spiraling ki which seemed to radiate outwards in weird ki tendrils. But, that wasn't entirely important. What was important was that the attack was headed straight for her.
Thankfully, Wyntre was acquainted with the technique of moving slightly out of the way.
"If you survive this encounter— you won't, but if it were possible and if you did survive— I do recommend investing in homing techniques. See, I'll show you one…"
Energy gathered in her hand. Yet, it wasn't forming a ki. What what it forming, anyway? A blade? Not quite. No, it was a saucer. The most powerful version of the homing variant of the technique Zexama's kienzan helped inspire. Which name did she come up for this one? Death Disk? Shi-kienzan? She, uncharacteristically, had forgotten. No matter. She had never really liked the idea of announcing the names of attacks before using them. Or after, really. Or ever.
Asper had his own ideas. If he could go in for a strike before she sent her attack, the energy would dissipate harmlessly. He would have tried to maneuver the homing disk back into her, but he knew that she was too smart for that to work.
Lady Cold knew what Asper's plan was. This time, she wasn’t underestimating him. This time, she knew exactly what he was going to do.
Slice!
Not quite the immediate victory she was hoping for, but the clean slice went straight through him, ridding him of his right hand and some of the adjoining torso. For a species that sustains itself on water, it wasn't as bloody as expected… actually, there wasn't any blood. Wyntre suspected that that was because of the simulation's filters, in case children used it. She didn't care to remove the filters, either: blood was icky.
"You… you bitch!"
"Watch the language."
He smirked. Then he smiled. Then, laughter. He was probably going to try to surprise her by growing back his arm, but she was expecting such a thing. He continued laughing… it was quite annoying. She considered killing him with a Death Beam right there and then but thought better of it. Let him have his fun.
"You fool! You may think that I am less one limb, but I have a few tricks of my own!"
Indeed he did. Nothing she had never faced before, though. This wasn't her first Namekian opponent, simulated or otherwise. Predictably, the splutter of green liquid (presumably a nutrient-rich solution) accompanied the sound of his arm growing back. If not for the aforementioned liquid, she could scarcely tell it from the old one he had… not without a closer look, of course.
"Do not believe, not even for a moment, that this gives you the upper hand in any way. Rather, I've barely used any energy. You, on the other hand? You've regrown a whole arm, plus some. It's only a matter of time before you collapse."
He grimaced. "… It won't be me collapsing."
In reply, she smiled. "We'll see about that. Computer, pause simulation."Asper froze in place, as expected. Even the screaming and fighting in the distance halted. "Add Ally: Zexama. Make her Power Level 3,000,000. Add Hostile Combatant: Mazoku Demoness with Power Level 3,000,000. Resume simulation."
The brilliance of the program was that it created context and reasons for everything. Given the context, it was only sensical that Zexama would come to the defense of Earth alongside Wyntre and that the Mazoku Demoness partake in the carnage for her faction.
"Changes added."
The pleas for help resumed. Zexama was there, as if she never wasn't there. Her diminutive frame and appearance were poor indications of her power: she was Wyntre's equal in that regard. She showed great concentration and indignation, as even Zexama could not easily make light of such an event.
On the other side, the 'Mazoku Demoness'. You could hardly tell her gender from her appearance, though: she was clad, head to toe, in heavy armor. Given the demonic penchant for spikes, this was full of it. It wasn't the most usable armor ever, but it looked cool. Wyntre knew precisely how best to exploit this… but she was to be Zexama's foe, not hers. A sword and shield materialized in her hands; they seemed to have been of the same style as the armor. The sword itself was as large as a person, a comparison which made apparent her hulking frame. She was huge! She must have been even bigger from Zexama's perspective… yet, strangely, they were exact equals in power. The program prevented them from noticing things like that until pointed out by a non-simulation. Apparently, watching simulations of one's enemies realizing that they aren't real and having mental breakdowns as a result was entertaining enough to warrant the purchase of a chamber for some people.
"Ah! Wyntree-knee! I'm super mega glad I found you, now we can fight together! This fatso givin' you trouble?"
Wyntre flinched. Asper flinched. The Demoness merely got closer.
"You will perish by my sword! I, Subjugatrix Belyth, leader of the Demon Hand, will take this planet for Lord Xylo!"
It seemed that the program was also very good at creating original characters. Wyntre did not know what the Demon Hand was, or if it was even a real thing or a faction the computer made for the character. While she wouldn't have learnt this until after the fight and after asking the computer a few questions, the Demon Hand was a group of assassins who were given fancy powers and political power for working for the reigning Monarch of the Demon Realm. How the computer knew of this, she did not know. What she wouldn't learn (at least what she wouldn't learn that day) was that many of the Demon Hand didn't really like the guy in charge and as such deserted over to the Mazoku Dominion. The end result was that there were two factions, both calling themselves the Demon Hand, working for different powers. The non-Mazoku one, though, had so few members that it essentially didn't matter anyway. Belyth was entirely original, though.
"Zexama, take on the sentient spiky wall over there. I'll finish the Namekian."
"Yepperoni. Except, that's pepperoni, which isn't candy, so 'yepquorice'! Just kidding, liquorice isn't real candy. Oh, I know! 'Yepp—'"
"Your head will be my goblet!"
"No, that wouldn't taste very nice. Stupid demon!"
Zexama then got sent away with a bash of Belyth's shield, having had been dazed by the prospect of a Majin's head being used as a goblet (how would that even work?). Belyth flew at her, hoping to get some combos in. They were sufficiently far away, then, for their own fight to continue.
"With the distraction out of the way, I will slay you. Then, I and my accomplice will kill your friend."
"It's 'my accomplice and I’: even monsters should have standards. Regardless, you are fool who is soon to die. Tell me, how many times can you regrow your arm before you run out of energy?"
"And how many times can you use that cutting technique of yours before the strain gets to you?"
"However many times as needed, fiend."
”Then that’s my answer to you."
And the battle resumed. Again, blows were traded, as if by a cadre of overenthusiastic merchants. Kicks and tail swipes were swept around, as if by a cleaner who hadn't done any work all day and had to clean the entire house in a few minutes. There was no clear winner, as expected. Their power levels were precisely equal, after all.
And, then… from behind, Asper was surprised by Zexama in a liquid-like form, attempting to absorb him as she had Belyth. She must have taken advantage from all of her armor's 'grabby bits', as is the technical term, or got in the space between the shield and the armor where attacking Zexama would have been awkward and, if done poorly, self-harming.
Yet, Asper was winning their struggle. To prevent the Majin from failing in her current activity, Wyntre flew straight up to him and punched him in the gut, a pain that was distracting enough to allow Zexama to finish her absorption.
Soon, Asper was no more. Yet, Zexama, after two absorptions, was no more powerful. She also didn't get any new transformations, presumably, as the real Zexama had claimed would happen. Simulations have limits, too.
"Set Zexama's Power Level to 4,000,000."
"Zexama's Power Level: 4*10^6."
Zexama looked more serious than before, sure, but this seemed to be more of a habitual seriousness. Her personality changed, but it was only a simulation, right?
"… I'm going to get Xylo for this!"
And perhaps she was going to, at least in a simulated way. Perhaps Xylo would be their next opponent.
Next to Zexama's four million, Wyntre's own three million didn't seem quite so impressive. I mean, yes, there were those with power levels nearing— or perhaps even surpassing— ten million, but there were so few of them. The beauty of a rose is not diminished by the thought that there are more beautiful roses elsewhere, after all.
But still, Wyntre was an advocate for evenness. She let energy swell up inside her and summoned her rage: to control it, and to never let it control her. She'd done this a few times before and she was pretty confident in her ability to summon it at will.
With a burst of power, accompanied with a shout, her height almost doubled, her head changed shape, becoming more frightening and serpentine and her power increased to a great degree. Now, she was more powerful than Zexama…
But, she was a fan of evenness, so she suppressed her Power Level of a teeny-tiny bit more than four million to just four million.
"I don't believe you've seen my new form, have you? Behold, and revel in my aura."
Zexama was skeptical. "I don't know, it just looks like you got a bit taller and got cobra bits. I'm pretty sure I'd win if we fought."
Oh, banter, what brilliance. "We'll have to verify that later, then, won't we? But, for now, we've got company. Computer, add combatant: Mazoku Leader. Mazoku Leader PL: 8,000,000."
The 'Mazoku Leader' was not Xylo, as one might have fought, as Xylo had his own designation. Rather, 'Mazoku Leader' referred to the three or four most influential or powerful people in its ranks, its non-Xylo leaders.
Out popped into existence the intelligently-designed demon in all of its glory. It stood as a six foot masterpiece and one could immediately tell that this was one of the demons who cared about their appearance more than anything else. His hair couldn't quite choose one color, so it was three. It even seemed apparent that it designed its own costume…
He had horns, too. Horns that seemed to have been adorned with bells, ribbons, dyes and perfumes, almost like a really weird Baomas tree.
And so, just like how it couldn't be decided if the demon was 'he' or if it was an 'it', Wyntre could not decide if she would address it or if he should address her first. But, he spoke first anyway, regardless of her internal decision.
“Ah, I see that you have disposed of my friends. It hardly matters, anyway, little darlings! They were expendable. I, on the other hand, am fabulous! Die!”
Wyntre did not know why people who shouted 'die' at their enemies did so. Was it the case that their opponent was so polite that they decided that dying would be the only hospitable thing to do?
Yet, here she was, not even knowing the name of the guy who punched her across the sky.
“It's Amaymo, by the way.”
Thank you, Amaymo.
Yet, here she was, only having had just heard of the name of the guy who had punched her a long way away and into an earthen tree, smashing it to the ground. She understood that he would try to separate them as fighting a single opponent with half of your PL was easy, whereas fighting two of them was challenging. In a blast, she she back in the fray.
Zexama seemed to be handling herself well. She took some hits, she delivered some hits, but she could tell that Amaymo was playing with her, like one would with food. Thankfully, he hadn't seemed to notice Wyntre flying back to them from behind, allowing her to—
No, he knew exactly where she was. It was a trap and, soon, he had Wyntre in a hold. Her tail thrashing may not have been doing any damage, but doing damage was not its purpose. It was actually a way to disguise the building ki in her tail…
Full-Power Death Beam!
A fantastic display of concentrated red death in the form of ki made its way to what would be a spleen, assuming human-like anatomy.
He let his grip lessen, allowing Wyntre to fly free and assess the damages to all of them. Zexama seemed fine, sure, but then again Wyntre didn't look in any way damaged yet a tinge of exhaustion bounced about internally.
Amaymo, on the other hand…
“You—! I'll feed on your corpses, you maggots!”
But, surely, a man of his taste wouldn't eat maggots, yes?
Anyway.
A large amount of his torso had been blown away. Thankfully, there was no blood. What there was, though, was worse. Rodents, lice, cockroaches and vermin in general swarmed about in his insides, desperately trying to heal the damages. They would find that it was not within their capabilities within the timespan at hand.
Zexama took advantage of the situation at hand and began charging her Candyhameha. All Wyntre would need to do is to keep him busy for a few moments more.
She removed a can from her satchel. It read, 'Bao's All-Purpose Gluten-Free Pesticide Spray! Kill'em 'till they die!'. What? There was a sale. She unleashed its contents into Amaymo's wound, causing an immediate negative reaction. Black masses of wildly varying sizes collapsed to the floor or to the base of what could be assumed was an intestinal tract if not for the eye looking at them put there. And, to add insult to injury, she sprayed him in his shocked, aperture-like eyes, temporarily blinding and staggering him for long enough to have—
"Candyhameha!"
The pink flashing ki smashed its way through his flesh with a struggle, but made its way out his back and through his front, adding to already monumental damage. The once-handsome demon had morphed, slowly, into a more satyr-like form but even this did not aid in coping with the damages.
At this point, there was a large hole in his stomach, devoid of blood, guts or rodents that barely allowed the flesh at the sides to connect the upper torso with the hip.
It was precisely at that moment that it released a blood-curdling scream. The simulation must have really developed a flair for the dramatic.
But, time spent screaming is time spent not defending yourself. It was almost as if the Majin and the Arcosian had read each other's minds as they both knew exactly what to do. Wyntre from in front and Zexama from behind, they flew straight towards his head, fists ready…
Zexama's leading hand morphed into a hammer. Wyntre activated her Tulpa Touch. And then, they their fists met in the middle with Amaymo's head in the way, a warm of locusts was released from his cracking skull as his body feel to the city streets below.
Their fists finally met in a high five.
"How many more powerful guys do the Maziki Dummy-nyan even have? We've beaten up, like, three of them?"
It seems she retained some of her playful charm, even with her new seriousness.
She looked over in the distance, where the computer had decided that Bing and his pals should defeat Xylo and his pals at that moment. Was… was that Zucceta, fighting on the side of Earth? No, that's not right. The computer was getting eccentric… either that, or it was trying to mock her. Thankfully, the Computer didn’t know about the Great Saiyaman Neo’s secret identity, so she appeared as well as a seperate entity.
"Computer, end simulation. Give me a detail report on the 'Demon Hand' later, but, first: activate instance: 'nonesuch'."
Just as quickly as Earth collapses around her, Arcose built itself around her. She found herself on Arcose, in her throne room, on her throne. At her sides stood Zexama and Brisk. Dravocn, Koramund, Taiga, Koldar… Arcose, united. This was the ideal. This was the perfect state. It was only the SSE and the Dominion who would deny the galaxy its peace.
She relaxed herself on her throne as she looked over a cold yet active world. She surrounded herself with friends to help with meditation, but there was always something missing. It wasn't that it was a simulation, she would still feel empty if this were real. So, what is missing? She was born to rule, so why would she be so empty even when ruling?
This suppositioning was based off of a false piece of information, she realized. She was not born to rule. In fact, she was the third and last child of his father, Emperor Vetur, as well as the only female. Circumstances conspired against her, but she saw a need. She did not seek to become Empress because it benefited her, she sought to become Empress to help the Empire.
Her father ruled through fear and had poor administrative policies. One of her brothers had, unfortunately, the mental capacity of licked plank of wood and the other was too hedonistic to even peek out of his luxury pleasure satellite.
And, now, the likes of Koldar blamed her for the loss of Arcose. As if they could do any better. The SSE did not care for good governance and even with the recent change in monarch the administrative incompetency remained.
Wyntre looked to her far left to see Kami Scargot. He had been most helpful in the process of the peaceful integration of Earth and its assets into the Arcosian Empire, while Scargot himself was quite thankful of being protected by the wide arm of the Empire.
Wyntre looked over to her far right to see Zucceta, Queen of the Vegeta. She had been most unfriendly at first, but with some slight mental reconditioning she became an intelligent, cultured and obedient vassal queen. By her side was her husband and child, sitting proudly, as well as the generals Vennel and Habana.
The Arcosian empire now spanned the entirety of the galaxy…
As it should do.
Sweet dreams, Empress.
"Lady Wyntre," spoke Kiwano through the computer's audio interface, his voice betraying his feeling of perplexedness, "Lady Wyntre! Awaken, your Ladyship." The two 'lady's were a bit redundant, but she liked to let him have his fun.
Wyntre was sitting on her throne on Arcose from her idealized situation. She remembered activating it yesterday, after a long round of strenuous simulations. Zucceta and her generals had been there, the diligently and (admittedly unrealistically) obedient representatives for the vassalized Solar Saiyan Empire. But, by the day after, they would have understandably went to back to Vegeta. Scargot, too, was no longer there, as he would have had business on earth to attend to. Zexama had went to sleep in her bedroom and presumably wouldn't wake for a long time to come. Brisk was—
Oh.
Brisk was lying in her lap. Somehow, over the night (and Wyntre suspected Brisk was responsible), her hand was put over him. He was grasping onto it tightly…
Thankfully, she didn't need to force him off or awaken him to be free of his grip. She gave one last look to Arcose. Her Arcose. "End simulation. What is it, Kiwano?"
Her view of a vibrant and prosperous city turned into one of a cold, hard and grey wall. "There's someone outside claiming to want to see you."
Oh? How did whoever it was find them? They were pretty much in the middle of nowhere, in the Yunzabit Highlands. Whoever found them must have known what they were looking for. Or, perhaps it was someone she had already met, someone who could find her by sensing her ki.
"Does this person match anyone in the records?" The records were a vast collection of basic data about just about anyone either in the Arcosian Empire or known to it. It was absurdly massive, understandably, especially when you consider that you need you need to be in it to get a passport. Connected to all of these profiles were, when applicable, fingerprints, faces and blood types.
"No, your ladyship, I've already tried. She insists that she's here to see you. She says her name is Kocha Kinoko, but there's four people with that name in the records."
Understandable. There are only so many names, yet so many more people to give them to. "List them for me, if you will."
A pause. "Well, all of them are currently dead. But… Ok, sure. There's a Brench-seijin serf of no note, the daughter of a diplomat scientist sent to live in and improve the conditions in border world Scobia for diplomatic annexation, a Scobian religious leader and self-proclaimed 'Bird Hermit' and an SSE Saiyan warrior from one hundred years ago."
The first and last seemed unlikey. The second and third ones both seemed to be Scobian, so it became likely that 'Kocha' and 'Kinoko' were Scobian given names and surnames respectively.
Scobia was a colony world, essentially. The Arcosian Empire sent a few scientists to improve the way of life there and to increase pro-Arcosian sentiment… and, despite resistance, it was generally working. That was, of course, until it was taken over by a bunch of Saiyans. But then, just as they were recovering, the Mazoku Dominion took the planet temporarily. Scobia had only recently joined the Arcosian Empire, but now their inhabitants were regretting it with the anti-Mazoku sentiment on the planet. That was just about the extent of Wyntre's knowledge of the planet.
"What is her Power Level?"
She heard the sound of the ship's superscouters at work. "Ten. As in, exactly ten. If that isn't a good sign of suppression, I don't know what is."
The ship was constructed out of a variety of different types of superalloys, all of them just about immune to other ship's blaster fire. Against someone with millions of Power Level, though, she wasn't very confident in how it would handle. If she wanted to kill her… well, she'd probably try to force her way in, assuming she was powerful enough. "Let her in. Show her to the gravity chamber."
With a flick of her wrist, a dial o the central column was telekinetically changed from '150x' to 1x'. After all, she didn't know how powerful this person was. We wouldn't want her legs to break upon entering the room, would we?
Soon, Kiwano and Kocha had entered. "Lady Wyntre, this is her." He left upon Wyntre's slight nod and stood just outside of the chamber diligently.
She fell to one knee, and the gravity had nothing to do with it. "Empress Wyntre. It's an honor."
Well, she wasn't quite the Empress, but she didn't feel like correcting that at the moment. Regardless, she likely knew all about the sacking. Who didn't?
"Rise." She rose. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"
She already knew her name, but she meant more than that with 'who are you?'. It was quite a general question, really. For example, 'Wyntre Cold' may have been her name, but 'Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose' was who she deeply, truly was, even if not official. Not at that moment, anyway.
The entity looked downwards, smiling gently, as if being relieved of a burden. "I was born Gesiviinu, or 'First Daughter of Gesivii'. My father was a Kondorian scientist who worked to help— and eventually integrate— Scobia on behalf of the Arcosian Empire. He was a good man, my father. The best I've ever met." That wasn't to say all the men she has since met were bad; contrariwise, most were quite hospitable. She was just saying that her father was just that good of a man. Of course, being his daughter, there would be a level of bias present.
Wyntre knew much of Kondorians. Human 'tourists' had been known to label them 'vulture people' or 'vultures' upon first contact, but this had more to do with humanity's racism than the Kondorian appearance. They were winged and feathered creatures, with beaks that evolved for scavenging. They only evolved intelligence to outmaneuver their much larger much faster also-flying predators, and it serves them well. Kondorians, although rare, mostly found employment as scientists or entertainers for those not proud enough to stomach the thought of flying through hoops for entertainment. Wyntre had studied some of their documents in her youth: a good amount of their traditional literature was dedicated to clever outmaneuvers and aerial movements. It was for this reason that they were sought out as fleet captains, but few were interested.
"He eventually married my mother, Gesivii, and had me. He recognized that Scobia was nigh-defenseless and strove to create some sort of defense… so he returned to Arcose and pulled some really big strings to get a lot of material… genetic material. But, then, as you had surely had predicted, the sacking of Arcose happened moments before his departure. When a small Saiyan force ransacked the planet soon after the surprise sacking, we were scared, but not defenseless. Our hermits and sages drove them out. This generally increased pro-Arcosian sentiment as a way to be protected against other Empires, but at a great cost. Many had died. Much of the city was razed."
The city? Oh, yes, that was right. Scobia was a planet, yes, but it was also the name of the planet's only continent and the planet's only city.
Wyntre briefly wondered what the hybrid of a Kondorian and a Scobian would look like. Kondorians had feathers, beaks and wings. Scobians had scales (hence their scientific designation, tonitruis squama), gills and vestigial fins. Yet, the entity standing before her…
Kocha had wings, yes, as well as gills, that much was understandable. But… her skin was a strong blue and her eyes a golden yellow. She had hair, not feathers or scales, and she had horns. As in, goat-like horns. Why? Where had the horns, the skin color and the hair come from?
"But, then, a miracle. I don't quite understand the means, but Arcose returned! When we received the news… anyway, back on track. He came back to Arcose with his life and with his materials, his materials to create a guardian… no, a hero of Scobia. His material contained an absurd amount of genetic material, from bacteria to frogs to plants to just about every known sapient species. He fed this stupendous amount of data which sorted through it all and, somehow, had it go through and create… well, not the perfect organism, but a pretty damn good one. But, he did give a little guidance, I suppose, to the machine: the two largest genetic donors were made to be his daughter and his Empress, you and I, just not in that order. He called his work Ribonu, still not sure why, but had yet to find a righteous mind to put in it."
Wyntre came up with a hypothesis, one she felt stupid for not coming up with sooner: Kocha's mind was put into Ribonu. It made poetic sense, in a way, that his creation inhabit his other creation, the latter partly made from the first. Although, with the given accounts of Feuskry in mind, it didn't seem like something that he would do. An emergency, then. Would the Saiyans bother trying again? No, they'd have more important things to deal with. The Mazoku, though… Scobia was quite close to Namek and was independent. It only made sense.
Also, hair. Where had the hair come from? Hair was quite common, oddly so, among intelligent species. Perhaps getting the red hair was a cumulative effort. The horns, though… Arcosians could get horns, albeit rarely, but she doubted it was from an Arcosian donor. Perhaps it was from an obscure creature from some jungle planet.
"But, well… I've seen the look on your face, you know what happened. The Mazoku roll in. A demon smashed through Dad's lab. It… anyway." Wyntre was pretty sure the demon had killed a loved one, presumably Gesivii. "I was put in Ribonu. Pretty cool how she looks kind of like you, huh? Well, I can't quite prove it, but she looked like my original body, too."
Other than the general shape of the tail (as if limbs were half off, she also had a tail) and perhaps the general shape of the face, Wyntre couldn't really tell that there was a lot of her in the bio-android. But, then again, sometimes she didn't recognize herself, anyway.
"I defeated the demon, as well as the rest of the forces. By this time, the Scobian Council had elected to join the Arcosian Empire. The Mazoku Dominion and the Arcosian Empire had their… alliance, if you could call it that, so they didn't try to invade again. And, that left me… a monstrous power left to hero over a crimeless city on a crimeless planet. I hope you understand, why, then, I came to you."
This was all a bit to take in. They could discuss the details later, but, suddenly, a feeling overtook her. Kocha was stunned by the hug she received, just as Wyntre was shocked by the hug she gave. This was affirmation that her people wanted her. This was proof that she was not a burden, but a prodigy.
"Sorry, sorry." Retreat! "I take it, then, that you'll like to join my crew?"
Kocha's skin was naturally blue, while her hair was a strong red. Yet, now, her blush reddened her skin to a shade that made her hair look like pink in comparison. "Uh— yeah— I'll…" She'd been hugged out of the blue by her role model, it was OK to be shocked. she swallowed her figurative butterflies. "Empress, it would be my honor!"
A mischievous grin found itself on its face. "Then I'd assume that you'd allow me a spar?" She nodded tentatively. "Perfect. Computer, set gravity to 10x. Increase the gravity by 10x additively every ten seconds until 150x. Kocha, I want to see what you're capable of. Release your suppressions, but tell me if the gravity ever gets too much to handle."
"It will be done."
Kocha had never experienced any power of gravity other than Scobia and, more recently, Earth. Scobia's gravity was weaker than earth's, but she had no problem there. Wyntre's 1x gravity was stronger than the gravity of Earth as '1x' was 1 times 'standard gravity', or exactly 10m/s, but she wasn't having any issues here, either. Other than the initial shock, 10x wasn't too bad either.
Kocha let go of her suppressions. 199,809PL.
Wyntre, however, had only lessened how much she was suppressing. She was using precisely 6% of her full power… at least, her full power available to her in this form. 191,817PL.
A negligible difference, really. Fortunately for both of them, there wasn't really any purpose in winning, only in fighting well and, for Kocha, in showcasing her abilities.
"I sense… I sense great power within you. What you show me now is only a fraction of your true abilities."
they circled around each other. Kocha wanted to get more used to the gravity, Wyntre wanted her opponent to be ready for an attack.
"This level of power is certainly possible for you to achieve, especially if you have some of my genetic code in your body." Wyntre still disliked putting effort into training. Even now, most of her power had come through her potential as the true ruler of Arcose.
20x.
Kocha hadn't expected the shift in gravity and had temporarily lost her balance. As soon as the bio-android found her footing, Wyntre struck. They began trading blows.
"It's amazing. You move in this gravity as if it means nothing to you. I will learn your endurance, I promise!"
Wyntre tried to hit her head with her tail. It missed, and her momentum was used against her in a strike against her back. "Endurance is not learnt, it is earned."
Swipe.
Kick.
Punch.
"30x."
Kocha had gone in for a kick when the increased gravity kicked in. Her kick, with the rest of her body, awkwardly stumbled to the ground.
"Ow, my wings…"
Wyntre allowed her the time to get up. But, just as she was about to rise…
"40x."
Collapse.
Oh, this was getting ridiculous. Wyntre grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, forgetting about how long it took her to acclimate to 150x gravity.
And, soon, they were back at it. Attacks were sent professionally, attacks were skillfully received.
"50x."
This time, she was ready. She caught Wyntre's fists and twisted it. The Arcosian allowed her entire body to spin in an acrobatic fashion instead of having a hurt arm, the position she found herself in allowing for a powerful back jab.
"60x."
"The strain the gravity is putting on my body… it's monumental! I can hardly stand."
Wyntre faked an expression of pity. "Oh, is it too much for you, then? This is less than half of the maximum amount. If you don't want it to increase anymore, just give the word."
Kocha almost felt as if she was being mocked. She wasn't, and she knew that, but it still felt sort of like she was. "In your dreams!" Oops. That wasn't what she had meant to say. "I mean, no thank you, Empress Wyntre."
And there she was again with the whole 'Empress' thing. Now Wyntre was the one almost feeling mocked. "Think of me less as your Empress and more as your training partner at the moment, yes? The formalities can wait."
"70x."
It was at this moment that Kiwano was pretty sure neither of them would need any assistance. He left, returning to his duties. He would probably have an encounter with Zexama on the way.
This might not have been a good idea on Kiwano's part, though. Kocha was struggling to stand. Wyntre, again, neglected to strike.
"Don't you dare stop the gravity! I can do this!" This, despite the self-assurance, was a lie. At this rate… well, she wouldn't be able to stand in 100x gravity, regardless of posture.
"80x."
She faced near collapse, but kept on standing. "I can still stand! I can still fight!"
Mustering her energy, she tried one last attempt before collapse. She ran towards Wyntre, fists, ready, going to hit her in the face (but, really, she'd be happy if she hit her at all) but, inevitably, collapsed under the gravity.
"Computer. Set gravity to 60x. Are you alright?"
Kocha made the sort of noise you'd expect from a person trying to say 'yes' while being suffocated with a pillow.
Wyntre's posture was apathetic, unlike her voice. She wouldn't want a situation similar to the previous hug to occur. "Can you stand?"
Kocha grumbled out what was to 'yes' as blobfish were to fish. It's pretty hard to speak when there's a floor in your face.
"Do you want me to lower the gravity even more?"
She got up like a Saiyan being called to dinner. "Don't you dare! I will stand in 150x gravity, you can't stop me!" What was that look? Embarrassment? Shame? "I mean… no thank you, Empress." It was embarrassment, of course it was.
She wasn't bothered earlier, but now it just got annoying. "I stopped being Empress when I died. Call me Wyntre, for it is my name." But she was far more than just her name. "You were Scobia's hero, just as you will the Galaxy's superhero. Superheroes follow ideals and righteousness, not rulers."
"But you are righteous!"
It was hard not to take the compliment. Yet, she managed. "I have been wrong in the past. I am fallible, mortal, too reliant on rationality. And, yes, perhaps I am a better ruler than any of the other fools could ever hope to become, but never, not for the slightest amount of time, assume that I am always right. So pay me no more reverence than is due: call me Wyntre." She was wrong about Koramund. She was wrong about Zucceta's ambitions. Her predictions might have come true if not for the strange tendency for things to be overtly dramatic. She didn't expect to die, nor did she expect her training. And, in any given case, Zexama's actions could never be predicted.
Kocha was pretty sure in her abilities to stand in 60x gravity. "Yes, Wyntre," she said solemnly, "I will."
Wyntre telekinetically nudged Kocha backwards a little. Seeing that she didn't fall over, she was confident that they could get further than 80x. "Perfect. Let's get back to where we left off, shall we? Computer, 80x."
And the struggle resumed.
"Whatever happened to 70x!?"
"The same thing that happened to all the numbers before it: we have surpassed them. A revisit is unnecessary."
Strangely, standing up in 80x gravity is just about the equivalent of holding 79 replicas of yourself in 1x gravity, but it felt much harder.
"I hope you're managing," she said effortlessly, "because we will continue, as you had said that you wanted. Computer, 90x. We can call it a day when you've reached 100x, yes? We have plenty of spare accommodation." It was true, the Valiance was designed to be able to hold twice as many citizens as crew members. Zexama and Wyntre were just about the only 'citizens' on board previously.
"No… no, I can do this. Don't doubt me. By the end of this session, I will stand in 150x!" If Wyntre already didn't know that her mind was only half-Kondorian and half-Scobian she might have been lead to believe that she had a part of the temperament of a Saiyan. Did this come from the Kondorian or the Scobian side? Probably the Scobian side, she decided. Kondorian females were too valuable to risk and, thus, were careful in every regard. Scobian females, as she had heard being said, were not.
"I was careful in my training. I increased the gravity in increments of ten every day, not every minute. Don't feel as if you need to—"
"I said I'll do it, so I'll do it!" Not the best way to approach life, but it must have gotten her this far at least.
"… Fine, have it your way. Computer, you heard her. 100x."
Woop.
Her strain was palpable. She was putting her body in more pressure than it could handle. Yet, she would not, could not, give up: that was something her pride would simply not allow her to do. So, the question was posed: what would give out sooner between her body and her pride?
"Describe what you're feeling, please." Why? Because the narration will make her more aware of the pain and more aware of how to ignore it. Because that's how it works.
"It's… hard to describe. As if everything ached… as if everything screamed for you to collapse… as if reality itself wanted you dead and wanted to mar your legacy." Wyntre, strangely enough, knew that exact feeling.
"The galaxy does not think that. Find that flick that recognizes you for your power, it is within yourself. Embrace it. Use it. Spread it. You can do this."
She got… angrier? "I know, I know! I'm doing it! Computer, 110x!"
Wyntre wasn't entirely thrilled about her telling the computer what to do, but what was there to do? The woman was going to get to 150x one way or another.
"Computer…"
Already?
"150x!"
Wyntre's eyes widened immediately. Why would she— was she insane? She nigh-instantly moved to catch her, but it wasn't necessary.
Kocha stood for precisely two seconds…
But then dropped.
"Computer, 1x."
Kocha was sprawled across the floor like a corpse. However, Wyntre was unfortunate enough to be familiar enough with the faces of dead people to know that she was very much so not dead. Rather, shocked and empty of energy. "How do you feel now?"
3.
2.
1.
"It was…"
It was what?
"It was like…"
Like what?
"… I'm all out of energy. Lemme just go outside to photosynthesize… that still feels weird saying."
She was capable of photosynthesis? But… she was colored with only primary colors. It wasn't too surprising, really, considering all the different types of '-phyll's. Perhaps cyanophyll, considering her skin color.
"I'll just… get up." A good five seconds passed. "Would you mind if you… uh… helped me up?"
Thank Kami for telekinesis. Kocha began levitating for reasons she was quick to deduce. Wyntre wasn't sure why she needed to be outside: photosynthesis worked in just about any light. Perhaps it was just an excuse to get outside. "Come on. Let's get you outside."
"Have you thought much about your superhero alias?"
Kocha was sitting on the edge of one of the ice cliffs near Yunzabit over the snowy plains. Wyntre stood a few meters behind, admiring the amber sunset.
"Huh? What do you mean?" She knew exactly what was meant. "… Well, yes, I have. I was going to go with some variation on 'Saiyaman', except the 'Saiya-' bit means 'Saiyan'. I felt silly for not realizing that sooner." She almost laughed. "But, anyway. I've had a few ideas. 'Captain Kinoko'! 'Captain Ribonu'!.. What do you think?"
Wyntre felt that that was entertaining, somehow. "How about…"
Wait for it…
"Captain Arcose?"