Post by Lord Xylo on Sept 1, 2017 11:14:37 GMT
He could feel it. The sensation crept down his back, and back up again. He could feel it in his bones, and in the hairs on his skin. The end of this war was coming, and there was no way to prolong it. Xylo thrust his fist outward, a glob of sweat flying off his wrist as he pulled it back before punching with the other. The dull crimson glow of the gravity chamber, and the soft, constant thrumming of the chambers machinery were the only accentuation to the sounds of exertion coming from the Mazoku Lord.
The gravity chamber sat at a hefty eighty times Namek’s gravity; an impressive number, sure, but not enough. He needed to be stronger for what was ahead. Surely it would be an excruciatingly difficult battle-- perhaps the toughest yet. It was an exciting prospect, but it was equally terrifying.
It mystified him as a trio of Red Eclipse drones circled him. He could hear it in their silence, but why was it silence? If the Blue Banner had won that battle, the Premier -or perhaps ‘hawdawg’ as he liked to refer to himself- would surely have smarmed and snarked on his newest, bloodiest throne. Going on and on about how war and conquering was never the answer before turning around and throwing his blade at his foes was the boy’s favorite thing, judging by their brief and brutal conversation months ago.
The drones each let loose a blast of their own, but the Namekian was quicker than a simple robot, even in this gravity-engorged state. He spun wildly, channeling Ki into his sole to deflect the incoming projectiles back at their owners. As the drones exploded, the fleshy Sealed Ball in the corner burgeoned in delight. It would open soon, surely. Then Xylo’s actual test would begin.
If the Solar Eclipse had won instead, then a different kind of fanfare would have arisen. Habana, in her golden frenzy, would have held the Premier’s head high in a broadcast for the universe to see. She’d have gloated about how she had beaten the unbeatable, before throwing the scraps of her kill to the ravenous dog she called a Majin. But instead there was nothing. No fanfare, no mourning, no threats or postulation. Radio silence was the best he would get, and that meant the worst outcome. The Earthlings and Saiyans had joined together. They would come for Namek soon, though clearly they were preparing, or they’d have jumped at the lush blue world weeks ago.
A wave of Ki escaped Xylo’s mouth, piercing a drone who’d been keeping back to charge up its energy for a big attack. It clattered on the ground unceremoniously, and a small alarm of celebration blared from the speakers in the room, signaling the end of this exercise. The Namekian was nowhere near satisfied, though, and by the looks of it, neither was the Sealed Ball. It was nearly full enough to burst due to how long Xylo had been training, yet it had not awoken.
”Damn thing,” he muttered as he punched the buttons on the center console of the chamber, ”I’m not gonna get anywhere if my only opponents are the damn scraps!” His fist slammed into one of the buttons, turning on another training session. More drones arrived, though they were simply more of the same.
What if, though? What if the best outcome had arisen instead? What if the Solar Empire and the Blue Banner, in all of their unbridled fury, destroyed one another in a single fell swoop? There’d be just as much silence if all the major players in this war had died. No, he thought. He would surely have sensed so many titanic powers suddenly fizzling into nothing. It was wishful thinking more than anything, but it never hurt to dream big.
Another fist thrown, another drone decimated. Sparks shot into the sky before showering the ground with their light, bouncing in every direction before they faded. The Mazoku Lord wondered if the brief lightshow mirrored his own rise to power. In just a few short months he’d annexed or conquered almost half of the known galaxy. At least the important planets, anyways. Not even the old Arcosian tyrants could boast such a speed.
As what must have been the 70th drone fell to pieces, Xylo had to wonder how he’d be remembered if he lost the coming battle. Would he be the martyr that kickstarted the Namekian’s into standing up for themselves, or would he be the devil who terrorized his own kin to further his lust for power? It was up to the winners to write history, he supposed. Then again, death was no end. Not for people like him. He’d come back before, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do it twice.
Determination and anxiety mixed and stirred in his gut, worrying and emboldening him all at once. He was sure he’d be ready for the Saiyans, but would his men be? It wouldn’t be possible that they’d send only a small force. Only the full brunt of the Saiyan Elite would show, and if his own armies top contenders couldn’t keep up, then he’d have failed right out of the gate. The thought infuriated him. There was no way to know how much time he had left, and even with that blindness, he was more than aware that he had no time to prepare his own lackluster fighters. Dantalion was a coward, Mammon was a corpse, Ais was too far behind and Gekido was still off murdering traitors. Worse still, his own children weren’t even interested in fighting; Sax was a pacifist, and Bassoon was a terror to only the dinner table. I’d be better off without them, he decided bitterly.
The Namekian backhanded a drone as it dove down towards him, shattering it instantly. These negative thoughts swirled angrily in his mind, plaguing him as he fought these machines. He didn’t truly hate his allies and family, but stress warps even the happiest man’s thoughts.
Xylo pressed on. With a swipe, he sent out a crescent of Ki, ending a quartet of drones in their tracks as they approached, the two halves of their bodies clanking uselessly against the metal tiles below. As the congratulatory bell rang, the Mazoku fell to his knees, panting heavily. He shut his eyes tight, before looking up at the digital clock on the center console. He’d been in here for a few hours more than he intended to. Did he have anything to show for it? Probably not. He didn’t feel any stronger, and he certainly didn’t feel accomplished. All he did was simmer in his own anxious and excited and angry thoughts, and that was the biggest waste of time yet.
The Namekian sat up, leaning back to rest on the center console. He’d give himself a few moments to rest, and then perhaps he’d do a few more sessions. As he closed his eyes to get just a tiny bit of rest, he heard slow clapping ringing in his ears. It permeated throughout the room, and even as he stood up to investigate, he saw noone. It wasn’t until he turned around to notice the Sealed Ball being broken open did he realize who had arrived.
”Not bad,” Ouroboros said tauntingly. ”You worked yourself to the bone to break me out all by yourself. I bet you’re proud.” The demon prince revealed himself from behind the console, his hands ready to clap one more time. They almost did, but Xylo’s harsh glare stopped them in their tracks.
”You’re late.”
Ouroboros shrugged. ”To be fair you never invited me out. You just yelled and screamed and powered up a bunch until I woke up. Not a very good way to summon someone, really.”
”Shut up.”
Xylo ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in annoyance as he moved away from the console. He snatched a canteen from a small wall-mounted cup holder, and took a long drink. The cool green water refreshed him immensely, but his fatigue still remained. As he capped the drink, he turned to the demon prince, and raised his fists. All Ouroboros could do was laugh.
”So quickly you wish to brawl! I thought we’d have a little chat first. If you really wanted to push yourself so hard so fast you could have just done that mind-journey or whatever you did last time. Besides-- what’s a spar between friends without a little banter first, hm?”
The Mazoku’s scowl deepened. Perhaps he should have just visited Ouroboros inside the ball like he’d done before. It would have saved a lot of time and got him a lot farther. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly enough. Regardless, he moved closer, Ki burning around him as he approached. ”I haven’t got time for idle chat. There’s a storm brewing, and I need to be ready to beat it down.”
Ouroboros sighed, placing a hand on his hip in disappointment. ”Don’t tell me Foxxie got to you. I bet she warned you of some great battle to come right? That you should lay down your arms and surrender and that got you all fired up?... No, that couldn’t be right. I’d have sensed her even from inside the ball...”
Xylo stopped in his tracks, brow-ridge arching curiously. ”...’Foxxie’? Who the hell are you on about?”
”Hm? Oh. Just an old enemy,” he lied. ”She’s been training some Kami or something to come fight me. I figured she might have come to try and turn you against me or some such, but I guess that she didn’t think that far ahead.”
”What?!” Xylo’s fists clenched tighter, a sneer forming. ”You’ve got a foe looking for you and you didn’t think to tell me earlier?! I’ve got enough trouble with Habana, Vi-Poi and whoever else wants to ram their fist down my throat and you wait until now to let me know there’s something else to worry about!?”
Ouroboros shrugged again, and chuckled. ”You never asked.”
”I’m not in the mood for your humor.”
”Psh, whatever… Besides, Inari is no threat, and neither is her pet. They’ll come, we’ll strike them down, and then we go back to killing Haboona and her friends.”
”Habana.”
”A corpse’s name doesn’t really matter, does it?”
The Namekian frowned, but nodded anyways.
While Xylo continued to prepare himself for a bout, Ouroboros couldn’t help but find himself curiously inspecting his lord. The Mazoku was always a level-headed fellow… For the most part. Only a serious loss could upset him this much. Had he missed something while he was in the ball?
”You know, you’re awfully riled up today. You’re not going to win any wars if you keep fuming. You should be more than capable of keeping your anger in check. You’re all about the whole ‘controlling rage’ thing aren’t you? Coulda swore you gave that spiel before.”
Xylo paused mid-stretch, taking a deep breath as he relaxed himself. Maybe the prince was right. He was letting himself fall helpless to his emotions by simmering alone in the crimson lights.
”... Fine. We’ll save the spar for after we’ve beaten whoever comes at us down. I’m gonna go sleep.”
Xylo made his way towards the door, causing Ouroboros to frown. ”Whoa whoa-- wait a second. You called me out here so you could get inspired to stop literally ruining your body and that’s it? I figured it’d take more than that! What am I supposed to do now? Go back in the ball? Do you know how cramped it gets?”
The gravity chamber’s doors slid open, and the Mazoku stepped outside. ”Why don’t you try training while you're out? Who knows; it might help.”
With that, the chamber shut behind him, leaving Ouroboros to his own devices.
”...Hmph. This is worse than the ball.”
The gravity chamber sat at a hefty eighty times Namek’s gravity; an impressive number, sure, but not enough. He needed to be stronger for what was ahead. Surely it would be an excruciatingly difficult battle-- perhaps the toughest yet. It was an exciting prospect, but it was equally terrifying.
It mystified him as a trio of Red Eclipse drones circled him. He could hear it in their silence, but why was it silence? If the Blue Banner had won that battle, the Premier -or perhaps ‘hawdawg’ as he liked to refer to himself- would surely have smarmed and snarked on his newest, bloodiest throne. Going on and on about how war and conquering was never the answer before turning around and throwing his blade at his foes was the boy’s favorite thing, judging by their brief and brutal conversation months ago.
The drones each let loose a blast of their own, but the Namekian was quicker than a simple robot, even in this gravity-engorged state. He spun wildly, channeling Ki into his sole to deflect the incoming projectiles back at their owners. As the drones exploded, the fleshy Sealed Ball in the corner burgeoned in delight. It would open soon, surely. Then Xylo’s actual test would begin.
If the Solar Eclipse had won instead, then a different kind of fanfare would have arisen. Habana, in her golden frenzy, would have held the Premier’s head high in a broadcast for the universe to see. She’d have gloated about how she had beaten the unbeatable, before throwing the scraps of her kill to the ravenous dog she called a Majin. But instead there was nothing. No fanfare, no mourning, no threats or postulation. Radio silence was the best he would get, and that meant the worst outcome. The Earthlings and Saiyans had joined together. They would come for Namek soon, though clearly they were preparing, or they’d have jumped at the lush blue world weeks ago.
A wave of Ki escaped Xylo’s mouth, piercing a drone who’d been keeping back to charge up its energy for a big attack. It clattered on the ground unceremoniously, and a small alarm of celebration blared from the speakers in the room, signaling the end of this exercise. The Namekian was nowhere near satisfied, though, and by the looks of it, neither was the Sealed Ball. It was nearly full enough to burst due to how long Xylo had been training, yet it had not awoken.
”Damn thing,” he muttered as he punched the buttons on the center console of the chamber, ”I’m not gonna get anywhere if my only opponents are the damn scraps!” His fist slammed into one of the buttons, turning on another training session. More drones arrived, though they were simply more of the same.
What if, though? What if the best outcome had arisen instead? What if the Solar Empire and the Blue Banner, in all of their unbridled fury, destroyed one another in a single fell swoop? There’d be just as much silence if all the major players in this war had died. No, he thought. He would surely have sensed so many titanic powers suddenly fizzling into nothing. It was wishful thinking more than anything, but it never hurt to dream big.
Another fist thrown, another drone decimated. Sparks shot into the sky before showering the ground with their light, bouncing in every direction before they faded. The Mazoku Lord wondered if the brief lightshow mirrored his own rise to power. In just a few short months he’d annexed or conquered almost half of the known galaxy. At least the important planets, anyways. Not even the old Arcosian tyrants could boast such a speed.
As what must have been the 70th drone fell to pieces, Xylo had to wonder how he’d be remembered if he lost the coming battle. Would he be the martyr that kickstarted the Namekian’s into standing up for themselves, or would he be the devil who terrorized his own kin to further his lust for power? It was up to the winners to write history, he supposed. Then again, death was no end. Not for people like him. He’d come back before, and he’d be damned if he couldn’t do it twice.
Determination and anxiety mixed and stirred in his gut, worrying and emboldening him all at once. He was sure he’d be ready for the Saiyans, but would his men be? It wouldn’t be possible that they’d send only a small force. Only the full brunt of the Saiyan Elite would show, and if his own armies top contenders couldn’t keep up, then he’d have failed right out of the gate. The thought infuriated him. There was no way to know how much time he had left, and even with that blindness, he was more than aware that he had no time to prepare his own lackluster fighters. Dantalion was a coward, Mammon was a corpse, Ais was too far behind and Gekido was still off murdering traitors. Worse still, his own children weren’t even interested in fighting; Sax was a pacifist, and Bassoon was a terror to only the dinner table. I’d be better off without them, he decided bitterly.
The Namekian backhanded a drone as it dove down towards him, shattering it instantly. These negative thoughts swirled angrily in his mind, plaguing him as he fought these machines. He didn’t truly hate his allies and family, but stress warps even the happiest man’s thoughts.
Xylo pressed on. With a swipe, he sent out a crescent of Ki, ending a quartet of drones in their tracks as they approached, the two halves of their bodies clanking uselessly against the metal tiles below. As the congratulatory bell rang, the Mazoku fell to his knees, panting heavily. He shut his eyes tight, before looking up at the digital clock on the center console. He’d been in here for a few hours more than he intended to. Did he have anything to show for it? Probably not. He didn’t feel any stronger, and he certainly didn’t feel accomplished. All he did was simmer in his own anxious and excited and angry thoughts, and that was the biggest waste of time yet.
The Namekian sat up, leaning back to rest on the center console. He’d give himself a few moments to rest, and then perhaps he’d do a few more sessions. As he closed his eyes to get just a tiny bit of rest, he heard slow clapping ringing in his ears. It permeated throughout the room, and even as he stood up to investigate, he saw noone. It wasn’t until he turned around to notice the Sealed Ball being broken open did he realize who had arrived.
”Not bad,” Ouroboros said tauntingly. ”You worked yourself to the bone to break me out all by yourself. I bet you’re proud.” The demon prince revealed himself from behind the console, his hands ready to clap one more time. They almost did, but Xylo’s harsh glare stopped them in their tracks.
”You’re late.”
Ouroboros shrugged. ”To be fair you never invited me out. You just yelled and screamed and powered up a bunch until I woke up. Not a very good way to summon someone, really.”
”Shut up.”
Xylo ran his hand over his face, rubbing his eyes in annoyance as he moved away from the console. He snatched a canteen from a small wall-mounted cup holder, and took a long drink. The cool green water refreshed him immensely, but his fatigue still remained. As he capped the drink, he turned to the demon prince, and raised his fists. All Ouroboros could do was laugh.
”So quickly you wish to brawl! I thought we’d have a little chat first. If you really wanted to push yourself so hard so fast you could have just done that mind-journey or whatever you did last time. Besides-- what’s a spar between friends without a little banter first, hm?”
The Mazoku’s scowl deepened. Perhaps he should have just visited Ouroboros inside the ball like he’d done before. It would have saved a lot of time and got him a lot farther. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly enough. Regardless, he moved closer, Ki burning around him as he approached. ”I haven’t got time for idle chat. There’s a storm brewing, and I need to be ready to beat it down.”
Ouroboros sighed, placing a hand on his hip in disappointment. ”Don’t tell me Foxxie got to you. I bet she warned you of some great battle to come right? That you should lay down your arms and surrender and that got you all fired up?... No, that couldn’t be right. I’d have sensed her even from inside the ball...”
Xylo stopped in his tracks, brow-ridge arching curiously. ”...’Foxxie’? Who the hell are you on about?”
”Hm? Oh. Just an old enemy,” he lied. ”She’s been training some Kami or something to come fight me. I figured she might have come to try and turn you against me or some such, but I guess that she didn’t think that far ahead.”
”What?!” Xylo’s fists clenched tighter, a sneer forming. ”You’ve got a foe looking for you and you didn’t think to tell me earlier?! I’ve got enough trouble with Habana, Vi-Poi and whoever else wants to ram their fist down my throat and you wait until now to let me know there’s something else to worry about!?”
Ouroboros shrugged again, and chuckled. ”You never asked.”
”I’m not in the mood for your humor.”
”Psh, whatever… Besides, Inari is no threat, and neither is her pet. They’ll come, we’ll strike them down, and then we go back to killing Haboona and her friends.”
”Habana.”
”A corpse’s name doesn’t really matter, does it?”
The Namekian frowned, but nodded anyways.
While Xylo continued to prepare himself for a bout, Ouroboros couldn’t help but find himself curiously inspecting his lord. The Mazoku was always a level-headed fellow… For the most part. Only a serious loss could upset him this much. Had he missed something while he was in the ball?
”You know, you’re awfully riled up today. You’re not going to win any wars if you keep fuming. You should be more than capable of keeping your anger in check. You’re all about the whole ‘controlling rage’ thing aren’t you? Coulda swore you gave that spiel before.”
Xylo paused mid-stretch, taking a deep breath as he relaxed himself. Maybe the prince was right. He was letting himself fall helpless to his emotions by simmering alone in the crimson lights.
”... Fine. We’ll save the spar for after we’ve beaten whoever comes at us down. I’m gonna go sleep.”
Xylo made his way towards the door, causing Ouroboros to frown. ”Whoa whoa-- wait a second. You called me out here so you could get inspired to stop literally ruining your body and that’s it? I figured it’d take more than that! What am I supposed to do now? Go back in the ball? Do you know how cramped it gets?”
The gravity chamber’s doors slid open, and the Mazoku stepped outside. ”Why don’t you try training while you're out? Who knows; it might help.”
With that, the chamber shut behind him, leaving Ouroboros to his own devices.
”...Hmph. This is worse than the ball.”
