Post by Lord Xylo on Feb 22, 2017 4:08:56 GMT
The Victorious Lord Xylo enters his space pod once again. With another planet under his control, he decides to head home to Namek. During this flight, he slumbers, and a dream comes to him...
The Outer Plait. A desolate, barren wastes. This part of Namek had been ruined by a war long ago, the story of which had been lost to even the most knowledgeable of Dragon Mystics. To some, it was a terrifying land, unfit to even look at from afar, much less step onto its tainted soil. To others, however, it was sacred. It was a land that only the strongest could survive in. The Mazoku Caste had many small clans dotting this land, led by warriors who'd proven themselves in combat with one of the Mazoku Elders.
As the second sun rose high into the sky above them, the warriors of the Mazoku Caste approached a massive stone disc. It sat firmly between the two edges of a deep valley, filled with bubbling lava. This disc was the battleground for many Mazoku who wished to prove themselves, and today was no different.
A bulky Namekian Warrior known as Drom stepped onto the disc first, the crowd of Mazoku on the side he'd come from cheering him on. The Young Xylo was on that side of the crowd, his little fists pumping in the air excitedly. He was a bit older now, roughly the age of an Earthling teenager. Alongside him was his closest friend Lian, and his incredibly tall father, Tuner. The fin coming from Tuner's cranium matched Xylo's perfectly in shape. If they were the same size, one might have trouble discerning the two.
From the other end of the valley came Drom's challenger. An old Namekian named Murt. He was in stark contrast to Drom; where the challenger was muscled, the Elder was thin. Where Drom was young, the Elder, obviously, wasn't. However, despite the Elder's immense age, he stored equally large power.
Lord Tuner stepped away from his son, standing at the edge of the stone disc. He spoke loudly, for the whole crowd to hear. "Drom of the Northern Scar. You wish to challenge Elder Murt to a duel. If you come out successful, you shall take his place in the circle of Mazoku Masters, and may lead whomever wishes to follow you in your own personal clan. However, if you fail..." His eyes traveled to the side, watching the bubbling lava below. "... You will be killed. Do you accept these terms?"
Drom turned to Tuner, and nodded.
"Very well. BEGIN THE DUEL!"
The moment Tuner's words rang out, Murt was on the move. He dashed across the disc, his fist planting itself firmly into Drom's chest. He let out a pained cough, blood spurting out of his mouth and onto the stone disc. Murt continued his assault, slugging Drom in the face with a fierce left hook, followed by a devastating knee to the stomach. Drom reeled backwards from the attack combination, but he wasn't out of this just yet. With a fearsome roar, he sprinted towards Murt and let loose a flurry of punches and kicks. Murt responded with his own barrage, causing the fighters to be locked in a trade of blows that rocked the mountains.
"Wow," said Xylo, astonished, "Murt is so strong, but so is Drom! I wonder who will win..."
"Tch. Murt's holding back." Lian frowned, his arms crossing in front of his chest. "Don't you remember when Toba challenged him last year? Murt wiped the floor with him, and Toba was loads stronger than this guy!"
"Perhaps he's losing his edge."
The two boys turned to Tuner. He was standing on Xylo's left, his eyes watching the exchange of attacks from Drom and Murt critically. Tuner was a combat expert; if anyone could notice an imperfection, it'd be him. Xylo's excitement turned to worry. He liked Murt, but if he really was losing his edge, then he might be killed in this bout! Drom wasn't exactly known for his mercy. Then again, most Mazoku weren't.
Drom ducked under a heavy-handed punch from Murt, taking the opportunity to pepper the older Namekian's gut with jabs, before finishing off with a quick short-straight, which knocked Murt off-balance. Drom moved forwards, his assault continuing in the form of rapid kicks to the face. Each strike moved Murt closer to the edge of the stone disc. The lava below bubbled feverishly, almost as if it was awaiting a meal in the form of Namekian flesh.
With one final roundhouse, Drom had sent Murt careening off the edge. The crowd reacted in all sorts of ways. Some cheered, others booed, another small few started to shout obscenities in Namekian. Xylo, Lian and Tuner simply stood silent. They knew this fight wasn't over just yet.
An eerie silence quickly overtook the entire crowd. They waited with baited breath for any sounds; a splash, a scream of pain, anything that would signify Murt's end. It never came. In its stead came a mighty shout from above the stone disc.
"HELLZONE GRENADE!"
Drom and the rest turned up, shocked to see Murt. He was wounded, but still in fighting shape. Two massive orbs of Ki had formed in the Namekian Elder's palms, both of them packing enough power to turn anyone here into ash.
Murt tossed out one orb, then another, and another. A machine-gun barrage of Ki blasts rained down on Drom, but it seemed Drom, despite his size, had more than enough speed to him. He bobbed and weaved through the rain of attacks, nimbly hopping over some and rolling under others. Eventually however, one blast had swung in close enough to slam into Drom! It tore through his chest with immense force, but it was quickly revealed that it was simply a mirage-- Drom had mastered the art of the Afterimage long ago, it seemed. His was incredibly life-like.
Drom floated across from Murt, his arms folded across his chest. He was confident that he'd won this duel. "You're done for, Murt! I've got the upper hand now!"
Murt cracked a smirk. "Oh, you do?"
The Elder pointed to multiple spots, causing Drom to look around. His heart sank in his chest as he realized his foolishness. In every corner of the sky rested a large Ki orb, all of which had come from Murt. They hovered patiently, waiting for orders. Those attacks weren't meant to hit him, they were being set up to trap him!
Murt pulled his hands down, and each and every orb raced towards the bulky Namekian, smashing into him with enough power to topple cities. Smoke obscures the sky as blast after blast explode upon Drom's form. Xylo watches in awe of Murt's prowess. That technique was rarely used by Mazoku; its power was mighty, but mastery of your own Ki was absolutely necessary for proper use. Not many Mazoku could harbor that accolade.
After the barrage ended, things had gone silent again. Smoke still hung in the air, obscuring the results of Murt's assault.
Xylo and Lian turned to Tuner, who's gaze was still locked on Murt. His face didn't show it, but Xylo could tell his father was worried.
"Father... Is he...?"
"No."
Tuner pointed at the smoke cloud, which was finally parting. In its wake, Drom's fate was revealed: His body was bloodied and bruised, and the top of his Gi had been torn to shreds, but he was alive. He panted heavily, his eyes filled with pure rage.
Using the last of his energy, Drom rocketed towards Murt, planting his fist right into the winded Elder's jaw. The force of the blow was enough to knock Murt out of the sky, his body smashing into the stone disc below. Xylo let out a gasp involuntarily.
Before Murt could regain his senses, Drom descended from the sky, planting his foot right on Murt's head. He kicked him repeatedly, and without remorse. After enough blows, Murt had been knocked unconscious.
Tuner narrowed his eyes, before stepping forwards.
"The winner of this duel is... Drom!"
The crowd roared in celebration. It had been ages since one of the Elder's had been bested in combat! This was truly a momentous occasion. A few of Drom's friends rushed onto the disc to hoist him up, but he motioned for them to stop before they'd even moved.
"This isn't over yet!"
The crowd fell silent again, their curiosity heightened as Drom knelt over Murt's crumpled form. Xylo watched the victor with worry. Drom's eyes had a desperate hunger behind them. The kind of hunger that no man should ever let themselves devolve into.
Drom placed his hand on Murt's chest, and a light began to emit from the two of them. Tuner's neutral expression shifted to one of confusion, then anger.
"DROM, NO! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT!"
The blasphemous Namekian turned his head up at Tuner, spitting a glob of purple blood his way. "Silence, shark! Clearly he doesn't mind, otherwise this technique wouldn't work! I will fuse with this fossil, and from our joining I will gain strength and knowledge the likes of which you have never seen!"
Xylo's heartbeat quickened. He'd never seen this before. Lian had told him once of the idea of fusion, but Xylo didn't believe it was true. When he'd questioned his father about it, he'd simply said it was never to be used. He wasn't sure why Tuner thought of it this way, as no other Mazoku seemed to share his sentiment. Seeing how depraved and mad Drom had suddenly become at the prospect of an easy fusion made the young Xylo realize where Tuner's aversion had come from.
The light coming from Drom and Murt was increasing in brightness, becoming nearly blinding. Tuner raised his hand, palm open and aimed for Drom.
"I'm warning you Drom. Stop this now!"
Drom simply laughed.
An energy beam was fired, piercing Drom's heart. His eyes went wide, the light fading from them as he slumped over. The crowd turned to the origin of the blast to see Xylo. his arm outstretched with smoke still coming from his palm. He panted heavily, sweat running down his face.
Tuner turned to Xylo, then back to Drom. He sighed heavily. Technically Drom had every right to fuse with his foe, especially since Murt's soul was willing to slip into nothing. Perhaps the ancient Elder simply wanted to fade away, rather than shriveling up any more than he already had. Whatever the case, it was over now. His son had made a very difficult decision. Only time would tell if it was the right one.
A Mazoku clansmen moved towards Tuner. "Sir. What do we do about this?"
Tuner spoke plainly and loudly, making sure the crowd heard his statement. "Xylo has successfully defended Murt's claim as a Mazoku Elder. Drom will be buried at his family's gravesite."
Murmurs spread through the crowd...
A great jostling occurred inside Xylo's space-pod, forcing him to awaken. He blinked rapidly as he checked his surroundings. The liquid mixture that had filled his pod was draining again. He was getting close to Namek now. He sighed deeply, placing his head in his hands.
These dreams only came to him when he was truly alone. The time to reflect was helpful, he supposed, but the content of his dreams was curious. Why was he re-visiting these events? He knew them like the back of his hand already. His murder of Drom over a century ago hadn't been received well with some of the smaller Mazoku clans in the Northern Scar. Even now, with Namek under Xylo's control, some of those smaller clans refused to assist him in any way. Perhaps if he'd let Drom fuse with Murt, Namek would have been conquered long ago.
His mind retraced the dream again and again. Surely something important was hidden within it. A message of some kind, or perhaps a warning.
Murt might have been the answer. His technique, the Hellzone Grenade. It was one Xylo had nearly forgotten about. It was an incredibly useful skill. If he could master it and pass it on to his children, then the Mazoku would be in a much better position.
Xylo opened his palm, letting it rest horizontally. He quickly materialized a small clay statue in his hand, and with his opposite hand, he formed a dozen miniature orbs of Ki. He played around with them, getting a feel for their speed and weight. Once he was used to them, he'd turn the orbs down towards the clay doll, with varying results after each attempt. This wasn't good enough training to master the skill, but it'd help him along the way.
As Namek came into view, he continued practicing. Surely he'd get the hang of this technique soon.