Post by Wyntre Cold on Feb 23, 2016 11:41:56 GMT
As had been mentioned elsewhere, an ancient earthian general had once said 'never interrupt your enemy when they are making a mistake'. Wyntre Cold of the Arcosian Empire was certainly not going to do so. Things were looking up, actually, despite the entire being dead thing. A minor setback.
She had not expected Zucceta to transform into a 'Super Oozaru'. She also had not expected Zucceta's stupidity and savagery go become even more extreme. It was disgusting how Zucceta described the Super Saiyan transformation as 'divine', when in truth it was anything but. Perhaps foolishly and temerariously barbaric, instead. This new transformation was merely two transformations together, neither of the two joining transformations being anything but an Id-controlled mindless berserk-mode with a hair-dye alternative and a bunch of blutz.
Despite this, the Natto development was interesting. Not just this whole 'Super Saiyan 2' kebabble, but also the most powerful SSE soldier simply quitting. It looks like he went over and introduced himself to a 'Toma' and a 'Ninjin Nedrag'... Ninjin. How did that name sound familiar? Whatever the case, Wyntre hoped Natto would further come to his senses and therefore become further enemies of the SSE. A person who supports the SSE follows its leader, while a person who is against the SSE understands its leader.
The Arcosian looked at the large crystal ball, annoyed, as she saw her friend and ally Administrator Azure and another figure, apparently named 'Reikiko', take up the fight against Zucceta as a 'Bing Gan' and Kaula seemingly fell down, heavily injured. Kaula, Wyntre had met her a while ago. She had the opportunity to give her some friendly advice concerning Blutz Bans and the legality of the situation. Meanwhile, Zucceta, perfidious harlequin of the saiyans, prepared a speech almost as if she knew what she was talking about. Almost
"Oblivion is natural. Entropy encroaches every day. Even you, the mechanical master of Earth: you cannot escape the end."
Of-course. Why bring up three points no one is disputing in a battle? You may as well state that one plus one is equal to two. Of course oblivion is natural: things are forgotten all the time. Fossils, until discovered, are in a state of oblivion as they are ignored and are left unbeknownst to the minds of anyone. That in oblivion is that which had been disregarded or forgotten: the word has no other meaning (excluding forgetfulness). Of course entropy encroaches every day: one day, in around ten to the power of ten to the power of fifty-six-ish years, absolute entropy will prevail with the heat death, which is an absurdly long way away. Despite this long wait, the end comes closer not just every day, but every picosecond, too. It is obvious that one day Administrator Azure will die, for it is impossible for anyone not to, but it is more obvious that his death will not be caused by your doings. This is, of course, assuming that he is alive, which I am not sure of.
"I am not cause, but effect. I am the legacy of oblivion. There is no creation left in me. I am what you people want me to be. I am what you people need me to be. You'd be nothing without me."
"That is one of the most inaccurate things I have ever heard! Hah, is she even trying? If you're trying to say something, it is highly recommended that you do not contradict what you had said only two sentences prior. It would also be a good idea to have at least one true statement. This would be comedy gold if countless innocent civilians hadn't perished in the process... as they had on Arcose."
"Although it seems the earth-chumps put up a bigger fight than you lizards."
Surprised, Wyntre turned around to see a figure her scouter had not picked up, a figure whose appearance matched his voice of fingernails on a blackboard slowed down 800x. He was a saiyan with high-class battle armor of colors that of midnight and that of blood. He was unusually large for a saiyan, too, but not by much. His hair was quite dark and closely resembled the hair of some nobles as well as an ancient figure whose name was comprised of a 'Veg' and an 'Eta', but it was far more rough and had some strains of hair going in different directions. Moving behind the saiyan was his tail, which was unusually the same color as his hair. Although, other than this, some strange features were seen. His skin was as pale as snow and his eyes were a sick sanguine. It was almost as if he was a vampiric saiyan (which he was not).
"And you are?"
With a flash of power, the being's muscle mass increased slightly as his hair became sharper and the color became golden, a super saiyan transformation happening at will. But what was this? Something was different, something was wrong. The pigment of his skin blackened as unholy red tattoo-like markings covered his body, even on his armor. With a pain-filled shout, two short horns ripped through his skin from his skull. His hair, while unchanged for the most part, flickered with different shades of gold. Finally picking up the signals, Wyntre's scouter alarmed her with his Power Level: 1.5 million, which was quite close to her own 1.9 million.
"My name was Solanale, but I had been reborn as Nightshade when I devoted myself to Vortigern! My Super Saiyan transformation had been augmented!"
A look of disappointment came across Wyntre's face as a small 'really?' could be heard. "That is the single most cheesy thing I have ever heard, and I'm friends with a bubble-gum girl who apparently learnt how to read by reading a book about how to read. On second thought, neither of those are actually that cheesy. Huh. My aplogies."
"This world is beautiful, but upon her body is a plague. Its greatest defenders are two monsters, two freaks outside of Earth's natural progress one mechanical, one biological. Neither of you belong here more than I. I won't leave this world to the weak!"
This one-sided conversation had gone on long enough. Besides, your empire crumbles away and your followers desert you. I don't have to see this fight to know what will happen at the end of it. You have been defeated morally, you have been defeated intellectually, now you will be beaten physically.
"Silence! I have been sent to kill you by order of Vortigern. Shrivel in fear!"
"Tell me, who is Vortigern?"
"You'll see. But, for now... Behold my power!"
With an inefficient shout, the ground beneath the supernaturally-augmented saiyan cracked and buckled as his muscle mass increased greatly. He was charging straight for her. Wyntre recognized the technique, some sort of power-bulking/power-weighting technique that gave you more offensive capabilities at the cost of your defense and speed. If the technique's opposite was available to learn, Wyntre would like to learn it.
"No."
Easily ducking under the brute's swinging arm, Wyntre swiped her tail and slammed it against both feet, tripping him as he fell to the ground, all within a fraction of a second. Taking an opportunity, Wyntre ducked down next to the saiyan and grabbed his flickering golden tail before he could get up. It seems she has won without being hit once.
"I'll ask again. Who is Vortigern? What does he want with me?"
"Get away from me!"
The Arcosian squeezed his tail as 'Nightshade' shouted in pain. "Vortigern... He's an immensely powerful being, not native to either the Other World or the one of the living. He wanted me to kill you before you did something, I don't know what! Just let go of my tail!"
Wyntre slowly and near-inaudibly signed. Why must this sort of thing always happen to her? She yanked away and separated his tail which quickly lost the golden coloration as he screamed, as if a child, in pain. "Thank you for cooperating. Now go away."
And go away he did: quickly, and in an afraid rush. Too easy.
A calm demeanor was nearly shaken out of its serenity by unforeseen events. "Vortigern? What is he doing, interfering with that realm? This simply cannot be good. Doesn't he know I have plans?"
Wyntre had an idea. This certainly was not the first time she had encountered a powerful foe, nor was it the first time she had encountered a very powerful foe in hell. No, there were two known occasions. The first was when a party of people, each being of a different common species, had come up to her and told her that their seemingly-benevolent master would like to see her before giving her a small white card with how to see him. The second was just then. She couldn't help but theorize the two had some sort of link...
According to 'Nightshade', Vortigern had sent him to stop her from doing something. Perhaps he was trying to prevent her meeting the other entity of name she did not know? Flicking out the small, white piece of paper, she saw what it said, finally, and had a sudden air of confusion about her. The small piece of paper contained only words in a small and curvy font reading a very simple two-letter phrase: 'look up'. And so she did.
There was nothing up there, besides a strange sky and a cover of yellow clouds, none of which was out of the usual for hell. Despite being, well, hell, the place was actually quite pleasant... That was, of course, assuming your standards weren't as high as Wyntre's. Looking back down, she was quite surprised to find that nothing had happened. Strange... Normally, something weird would happen. Reviewing the note again, there was no change. It only said 'look up' with no change whatsoever. What idiot thought that would work?
"If you want to fight me at my best, then why don't we fight one-on-one? Or do you need to hide behind that divine insect? The same offer extends to anyone here; you, Kaula, Reikiko. Face me like true warriors, damnit! You shut your dirty mouth, you godly whore! Your 'wild card' act gets old reaaaal fast. You were so willing to stand by me just weeks ago! I don't exist just to be a rival to you, you arrogant ass! We exist outside of your constellation, you fickle tramp! Cowards, all of you! You're ruining this planet!"
There are so many things wrong with Zucceta's mad ramblings, I'm not even going to bother to try to start with my analytical dissection. How could she be considered queen-material anyway? Power is completely irrelevant, judging a ruler by her/his strength is like judging an eskimo on her/his ability to eat spaghetti. As anyone who had been paying attention could tell you, Zucceta has honor in the same way that the corpse of a common fruit fly has control over galactic events. Everything she does is a demonstration of this. Her strategic skills involve bashing in the skulls of her foes and her diplomatic skills involve threatening to use her strategic skills. What does she have left, her bubbling personality? Of course not. If the saiyans accepted and/or continue to accept such a fool as their queen, they themselves are far more asinine than previously thought. I mean, she doesn't even play chess for crying out loud!
Looking down to the business-card like slip of thick paper, she noticed something quite peculiar. It read: 'No, the other up'. ... What... What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why did the paper change now? 'The other up'? There is no other up! To add to the confusion, Wyntre raised her eyebrows at the only recently-existing door that simply stood there. It was the type you might commonly find on earth: wood, painted white, with a handle of cheap metal. While the Arcosian had not seen this, the directing paper had changed once again, now plainly stating (in a more relaxed font), 'yes, that up'.
Step away from the door, Queen."
Wyntre didn't turn to face the returning black-haired figure. She simply had no need to. Nightshade ran off like the coward he is, although he seems more confident now that he has returned. It must be caused by the doings of Vortigern.
"Queen? You call me a queen? Such is expected from a delusional fool such as yourself. I am Empress Wyntre of Arcose, not some lowly queen!" she exclaimed, swerving around as she retrieved her tulpa-controlled sword from her back and pointed it towards him, "And you are a lowlife who can only grow more powerful by selling your very self to a malignant force. Pathetic, really."
At the very start, the only two discernible differences in his appearance were his regrown tail and his clothes: he was no longer wearing saiyan armor, but was rather wearing a simple unmarked black gi. Black hair ignited with gold as his Super Saiyan form was activated. Something seemed quite different, though. As he entered into a combative stance, great strain was put on his body as something began to happen. His muscles bulged and expanded as primitive golden fur began to cover him. He nearly doubled in size in the span of mere moments.
His tail shook unnaturally as a long scorpion-like blade formed on its end. His hair, constantly flickering, expanded and began to more closely resemble the hair of a lower-class saiyan. His eyes completely blacked out, except for two pin-sized red dots, one on each eye. The skin that could be seen past the emerging golden fur darkened many shades. Slowly, the fur, hair and tail all dimmed down from a glistering gold to a bland yellow, which itself became a dark orange and finally a black. His mouth grew terribly sharp fangs, more resembling that of a Great Ape's than anything else. His arms began to tremble and vibrate as each arm split into two, giving him four fully-functional arms that clapped against each other, intending harm. His black short horns expanded into that you might find on a ram. Finally, boney protrusions ripped through his skin and formed white blades of bones coming out of his elbows, fingers, toes and knees.
"Perhaps, but I would much rather be that than the dead Empress of a dead planet. This form I'm in incorporates the strength of the Oozaru, the power of the Super Saiyan and the dominance of everything unholy!"
The Arcosian tried her best not to show any response to the insult. She, for one, was tired of people transforming right in front of her. It happened every other day! She pressed a button on her scouter and was surprised to find it simply could not read his Power Level: almost as if it denied he existed.
"My-o-my, isn't that interesting? I never thought you could become any uglier, but now you've done that."
Wyntre didn't quite mean this, though. It was just showing that she was better at insulting than Solanale could ever be. Because she was. Besides, it isn't as if honesty is a sin. That door... If I can get through it in time, I might be able to avoid any conflicts.
"The chaotic beauty of this form is immense, don't you blabber on with your stupid accent!"
The tulpa-controlled blade in the hands of an Empress, the Arcosia, was slowly shifting. 'Tulpa', as a concept, could potentially be explained as a form of thought-form, but it wasn't that simple. The white blade was comprised of many scientific intricacies Wyntre had found over the years, all of which working together to listen to her will and form itself in accordance. Concentrating her mind, she formed a mental image of the desired outcome as what was only seconds prior a sword was forming into a staff.
"No, my friend. The way I speak is not in any accent, this is simply what it sounds like when you pronounce everything correctly."
That one seemed to have struck a chord. I think it was C minor. Maybe. I'm not very good with music.
"I don't care about the pronounciation, you're going to die!"
"It's 'pronunciation', actually, but I doubt you'd c-" Wyntre was quickly cut short, rudely interrupted, by a quick punch to the face, giving her a big shock as the attack sent her flying meters backwards. Bouncing against hellish stone, the Arcosian rolled against the dirty lithic floor with only surprise on her face.
"Now, you fall!"
Recovering quickly, Wyntre pushed herself back on her feet with her tail and got in a defensive position. As Nightshade charged forwards, Wyntre wisely dashed to the side in time, but her lower leg was unfortunately caught by one of his two prehensile bladed tails before she could get away further. Falling upside-down, she struggled against the grabbing tail. Trying to grab it and exploit the weak spot of many saiyans, she was disappointed to find this vulnerability was simply not there: Nightshade didn't even flinch. This is going to be a lot harder than last time. "Get off, now!" sternly ordered Wyntre as she crossing her arms angrily, almost whining in the process. Trying to shoot the tail with ki to no effect, she noticed that, whatever his power level was, it was far greater than hers. That was a problem. A big problem. As Solanale the demonic saiyan whistled, a large portal of black appeared that bristled with cold colors. It sounded like the howling wind of a thunderstorm and smelled like burnt rubber.
"This portal will destroy itself after something has passed through, meaning there is to be no return for you!"
Wow, thanks for giving me the most obvious plan ever' Wyntre thought sarcastically. I mean, it's not as if a 2-year old child could think up a plan to subvert it. To avoid going into the portal with the precious few seconds remaining, she knew of a single technique that may be able to defend her. It would have to be precisely timed, late enough to have Solanale go through the portal yet early enough to not go through herself. It must, too, be powerful enough to push away the powerful being. Wyntre knew of but one technique that could do this, the Fimbulvetr.
Dazzling the environment in purple ki, it came to Wyntre's aid to defend her as a shield which knocked away the tail of a surprised Nightshade. He fumbled backwards, but not quite enough to step into the portal behind, leaving it intact. Too early, I suppose. Still trying to figure out what happened, the seemingly-infrangible beast remained in a state of surprised irresolute abeyance.
That was when something happened. It was almost as if she was in extreme gravity, but her temperature fluctuated from extreme to extreme every few seconds. She felt her heart beating in her sinuses. She could hear a fly burp from eighteen miles, yet she could not hear her own thoughts. She felt a beaver gnawing on her intestinal chord from within. Strong senses of vertigo and dizziness befell her as she couldn't help but ponder if these effects were caused by Vortigern from afar. Regaining herself, Wyntre quickly noticed something odd: Solanale seemed to be in a strong paroxysm of pain as his muscles twitched and tried to collapse against him, his skin looking like it wanted to flee from him and jump off. What happened next could only be compared with a matryoshka doll as multiple levels of his being were separated. That, however, was when his body began to burn up, despite no fire near-bye, or any apparent reason for it to. Like embers at a campfire, His body began to evanesce away into the air surrounding: it did not look, in any such way, that he was enjoying it. Mere seconds later, molten skin cooled down, leaving only languid ash blowing in the wind. Was this supposed to place Nightshade in an precipitant eternal state of ignominy? Perhaps it was just a lethal punishment? Perhaps Vortigern really just likes to murder his... 'Assassins'? 'Retrievers'? 'Servants'? Them, whatever their names happened to be. Alternatively, perhaps, Vortigern decided not to interfere with the door or the act of me going into it, although if he had done this because of feelings of curiosity or self-preservation I cannot as of yet determine. This would of course come with the assumption that either might be the case, which is probable, considering it is impossible for it not to be.
That was all done and finished. Now, she would be free to go through the door seemingly above comprehension. From this, she would simply not know what would occur next. It would kill her, it could not. It might travel to itself, it may direct her to the other side of the door. It may bring her to some place new and exciting. Or it could not. The possibilities ended in the same way something that can't end ends. She had a thought, it wasn't particularly a good one. What if Vortigern had sprung a trap? what if he had replaced the door during the fight or changed its output properties? It might bring me before him, it might kill me immediately. Or it might not. She signed irresolutely. But it still may.
She placed her hand on the door's handle, almost expecting it to open by itself, but it did no such thing. Opening the door with a click, Wyntre was only mildly surprised to find a shining endless abyss of white on the other side. What was that she could hear? It sounded vaguely like flowing water. Allowing her scouter to try to figure out was going on, the scouter simply denied there was something there, like it had done to Nightshade, which was an interesting development. While she internally debated whether to step through or not, she thought of many factors that may influence or be influenced by the door, this situation and the Nightshade incident. Picking up a conveniently-placed withered leaf from the floor, she scrunched it up into a ball and threw it through. She didn't hear it hit the ground. Should I simply trust this door? Perhaps.
That was when she stepped through as the light enveloped her like a wrapper around around a present. She felt an odd feeling: it was similar to falling asleep, except there was no apparent need to sleep. She was not tired, nor drugged, nor asleep.
But she was calm, divinely calm.
And then she went up.
No, the other one.
The Empress found herself in the middle of a ferocious headache. This was odd, because she saw neither piles of paperwork or Zexama around, and those two normally caused her headaches. But this was a different kind of ache.
She found herself in front of the very door she entered, but it seemed to be dissipating, fading. She had also found herself feeling like she was in an elevator going in every direction there was, including the other up. The next feeling she couldn't quite place. It was sort of like pins and needles around the entire body, it was sort of like being submerged in warm water, but it also felt like what electro-acupuncture would feel like if the pins were powered directly by an active thermonuclear reactor complex... Only without the pain, the horrible screaming, the warm water, an active thermonuclear reactor complex, some needles and powerful wire.
Finding herself floating nowhere, not even a star to be seen from any angle, the only thing she could see was that door she had come, slowly rotating as if it was not attached to anything and without gravity. Finding herself, too, not bound by the Fundamental Force, she tried to use her ki to fly to no avail. She muttered a clever, cuss-free exclamation of frustration and confusion under her breath, but as all of its kind do, it did not help the situation. Using her tail, she took hold of the brass handle to either push herself to it or it to her, perhaps both, she could not tell in the vacuum. Hang on, if this is a vacuum, how did I hear myself mutter a clever cuss-free exclamation? Hoping her questions would be answered soon, the door opened with a creak and she, despite logic, swam through what seemed to be a vacuum. Somehow. Don't ask questions you don't want answered.
And so she went on through.
She found herself pushed down by a strong gravity she wasn't expecting. This gravity gave her a good look at the floor: it was an interesting floor. It was like marble, in a few ways, but it was clearer, had no whisky imperfections and seemed nearly liquid. Nearly. She pushed herself off of the floor with a push, using her tail to prop herself onto her feet and had a little look around: it was a small hallway. An intricately-designed chandelier was held meters above her: upon closer inspection, Wyntre had found that the light was created by unusually-bright candles, candles that have either only very recently been replaced or candles that don't go out or melt wax. She supposed the white flame atop the still-fresh wick was an indication.
Walking to the end of the corridor, she peered past where the door might have been if the hallway had one. Stepping through, Wyntre was moderately surprised to find, below two steps of stairs in the shape of a semicircle, a person. It was a person she had never expected to see, mostly because she both had no reason to expect him and because they've never met before. Sitting in a comfortable chair in front of a warm white-flamed fireplace with an uniquely-shaped cup of an unknown beverage gently sitting in his hands, he spoke.
"Yes, that of niveous skin and vinous eyes. Righteous Empress Wyntre, the High-Benevolence of Arcose, I assume?" the being asked, not giving Wyntre enough time to say that 'Empress Wyntre' will suffice, "Would you care to join me for some cuvée de prestige"?
The entity's name was Egregore. He went into detail explaining what this meant and why he chose it as his name, Wyntre politely pretending she didn't know beforehand to let him have his explanation as if she was being taught: besides being an occult concept and a word for angels (fallen or otherwise), it was, most importantly, a word for 'watcher'. She had the feeling that he knew that she already knew about the word (as well as its cultural significance, meaning and etymological properties).
Egregore was a tall man with fair skin, calm fair hair without any hair-spikes some warriors enjoyed and emerald-like eyes. His robe was a pure, pearly white with circular and round markings in it made of gold. It left no skin or any other items of apparel visible except for his head and his gloves.
Egregore explained, in only a few short words, that he was an entity from another universe altogether, speaking little of the subject. While this happened, Wyntre pondered why all of the extra-dimensional interference was directed at her. He had told her that he would be willing to revive her... Meanwhile, Wyntre was enjoying the top-notch champagne that Egregore had given her a glass of, unconvinced of his words. Letting her scouter have a try, it completely denied that the being was even there, continuing the pattern.
Wyntre had soon realized that the group of five that had told her to meet with Egregore likely lived in the location. There were multiple doors leading to, presumably, multiple rooms, they may have lived in those.
"What reason do you have for doing that?"
Egregore chuckled warmly. It was not evil, nor malicious, but it was warm and (in a sense of the word) amused. Wyntre, on the other hand, acerbically crossed her arms with a decent dose of inquisition.
"I enjoy Order. It is in my sphere of influence, after all. You are one of the few people who have the ability to instill True Order on a galactic scale, I am simply allowing this possibility. However, do not think I will do this service without remuneration, as much as I would like to. You need to-what do they humans say? -'Prove your mettle'? Yes, that. You will have to pass three tests,-" he gently spoke, holding up three fingers visibly, "-All of which may be seen as either a challenge, a gift or both. You will have to defeat a friend of yours in a game of Earthian Chess. Next, you will have to deal with alternate versions and beings similar to yourself. Lastly, you will have to learn more about yourself. I apologize for the lack of information at this time."
Wyntre mentally compared Egregore with some type of travel host, mentioning the accommodations and such during a pre-planned holiday of some description. She also, of course, mentally questioned his motivation for doing what he has done. There were still so many mysteries, so many questions. Questions she planned on asking later, when he would likely be in a mood more likely to give straight answers. At least, that was the plan.
Wyntre sat in front of a board of chess. Plain, normal, two-dimensional chess. How primitive.
Chess was bound by rules. These rules stopped the game from deforming into a chaotic state of anarchy and made it what it is: stable, clear and law-abiding. Chess made sense in the same way that biology, the laws of physics, trigonometry, chickens, the distinctions put in place to separate types of cheese, just about every type of science and oh-so many other things made sense: because they can't not make sense. They simply have to. Even Zexama had to make sense, on occasion.
Sitting adversely to the Empress, in more ways than one, was Malign. If you remembered, Malign was, in a way, a version of the original representing her evil and malignant energies and feelings. This explains why Malign was, is and will continue to be so weak. After a long silence, Wyntre spoke.
"How are you here?"
Malign almost laughed. The truth was, she actually didn't know too much about how (or why) she was where she was. She had the odd compulsion to not want to know, but also another compulsion, perhaps more odd, to pretend she knew.
"You should not ask questions you don't want to be answered. Or do, I don't care," replied Malign, dodging the question.
Wyntre took the first move wordlessly as a Pawn, in front of the Queen, moved two spaces forwards. Her equivalent echoed her move less than a quarter of a second later. The game commenced.
"You are Malign. You are everything wrong with me. You signify all that is cruel, all that is uncaring and all that is ignorant. Not only are you an embarrassment, but I have the misfortune of being linked to you so closely. I am just glad you were such an insignificant part of me, or you might have had some form of influence on my decisions and actions."
The game was looking fortunately in Wyntre's direction. She had an area on the left part of the board, able to strongly defend from all directions except backwards and move forward stably. The other portions were set up as traps waiting to be activated. Malign would have been in a similar position, but her being a manifestation of evil and sin forced her to make impatient decisions, benefitting her only in the short-term but making the game worse immediately after. It was not uncommon for her to simply fall into one of Wyntre's traps and lures.
"Do you remember the old days, many years ago, when you first arrived on Earth? Do you remember how you got there?"
That was a question Wyntre hadn't expected to hear, and it certainly was not one she planned on directly answering. Malign saw minuscule changes in Wyntre's face. This was expected, they were both as keenly observant as each other and they both knew their own face, and therefore that of their alternative self. Malign therefore knew what these minuscule movements represented. Guilt.
"I did not forget," Wyntre simply replied. "Why are you bringing that up?"
The game was not going well for either side. Wyntre still held the advantage, but progress was slowly grinding to a halt on both sides as any major offensive attack was quickly acted upon and destroyed. However, through seizing an opportunity, Wyntre had gotten a bishop straight in the middle of Malign's defenses, but safe and out of the attackable spaces. This gave Malign one of three options: move the knight, move the rook or hope Wyntre doesn't do anything to try to exploit the slight hole in her defense. The first two options would, however, open up two strategic weaknesses in the web of pieces.
"Oh, just idle chatter. I wonder, how much of it do you remember?"
Wyntre made a bad move. Malign quickly used it to her advantage. She rephrased the question. "What do you remember?"
A young Wyntre impatiently stepped about. Surrounding her were bodies. Dead bodies. Bloodied, crushed, marred, vaporized or burnt corpses. She's done this… I've done this. But why? Why did I do this? The younger Arcosian looked out into the stars, devilishly smiling. Her future-self looks back in the mastered natural Arcosian state, the former unaware of the latter. Why had I done what I had done? An explosion was heard, rocking the ship. She remembered this moment, it was engrained into her mind like a hot iron. It was… wrong. She later learnt that the generator hadn't been maintained properly, causing it to shutdown, but she hadn't the slightest idea back then, back when she was a fool many years ago.
Above the main console, large alerts and warnings popped up and made as much noise as they could, like an eight-year old left alone with a piano. This was the moment earth's star began affecting the ship more and more. She could remember herself rushing over to the console, frantically trying to do something, anything, that could help, but to no avail. Silently, the gravity console and oxygen circulation systems shut down
And there it was. Having moved at very fast speeds, the star was very close. It took up most of the window, and it was tremendous. She was going to burn up, she was going to die. It was going to be the end. Such a thing is scarier than any foe or any monster. She could not negotiate with it, nor fight it. She couldn't even get close without frying out like a crisp. That was, thankfully, when a comet had nudged them slightly off-course… all through simple happenstance.
"I remember it clearly, as I am sure you do too. I have achieved remission, why are you bringing it up?"
The game wasn't looking good for Malign. Most of her defenses had been obliterated, any potential attack was shut down and enemy pieces encroached. She had only a few ideas remaining. "No reason." That was when Malign, fully aware of the problems her actions would cause, made an illegal move by moving her Bishop like a Rook or a Queen to take Wyntre's Queen.
"You can't do that, it's an illegal move." Malign cackled madly, creepily leaning forwards onto the table. Whether it was meant to intimidate or creep Wyntre out didn't matter, what mattered was that it did at least one of them. "And what are you going to do to stop me? There are rules disallowing changing minds or pieces post-placement. I also can't move twice without you having a turn in between. We're forced to play along, or else more rules will be broken. Also, check."
An amused Wyntre had her little internal giggle. Then it became a normal-sized internal giggle. Then a big internal giggle, to a small giggle, a normal-sized giggle and stopping once she was laughing loudly, almost as if something was funny, greatly annoying the listening Arcosian. The reason explaining why she was laughing as if something was funny was, quite simply, because something indeed was funny, as explained below.
"I could do a great number of things. The two most sensical things make just about as much sense as each other, but I think I'll choose the second one. The first one had already been initiated, technically, but I could act on it. You see, you have foolishly disqualified yourself with your illegal move. I could win any time I say I do. After all, we're using Earth Chess Rules set #8. Secondly, simply direct yourself to the board. You see how your Bishop is now out of the way? Checkmate."
In a victorious triumph, Wyntre moved one of her Rooks past where the Bishop would have been and knocked over the King. "… This is not fair."
Only a few short seconds after, Malign repeated the exact same phrase again. She slammed her hand against the board, frustrated, knocking over a few pieces and moving others in slight ways.
"I agree. It was fair, of course, until you made an illegal move. You tried to give yourself an advantage, but you overlooked the reality of the situation."
Enraged by the words, a growling Malign slammed her hands against the bottom of the table, flipping it around in the air. She was quite angry. So angry, in fact, that she flew towards Wyntre and started slamming her with arms, legs and a tail. The Empress, however, might not have known she was being attacked if she had no context, couldn't see the assailant or couldn't hear the assailant. Her body didn't budge, or be effected in any way for that matter. That was when the Empress effortlessly slapped her doppelgänger (of sorts) across the face and into the wall, ending the fight with ease.
Not knowing quite how, Wyntre found herself waking up in a bed she had never slept in before in a room she had never seen before. The bed was nicely made: it was comprised of a dark softwood, the color of the base and everything on top was strangely fitting and the fabric felt nice. Of course, it was a pile of cow manure in comparison to what she would normally sleep in, but still. That was when she saw a few defining features of the room.
Over to the side was a mannequin, dressed in some caped battle armor. This would have been nothing of notice, if it didn't have the SSE insignia largely shown. Over at the other side of the room, on top of a shelf, was a considerably-sized collection of skulls. That usually isn't a good sign.
She heard some encroaching feet, so she quickly rushed out of the bed in order to find somewhere to hide. It was a good thing she learnt how to suppress her ki, or everyone would have been alerted to a large power level. In order to hide from the singular being (as only one pair of legs could be heard stepping), Wyntre decided the best course of action would be to hide underneath the bed, but she realized that it had no underneath to hide in. Running out of time, she jumped up and positioned herself onto the chandelier, hoping that the chandelier, the connecting metallic rope and the roof were all strong enough to hold the weight. Admittedly, the Arcosian didn't add much to it.
She jumped up just in time to not be seen, consciously thanking the chandelier for not moving around or making any noises. The entering figure was definitely a saiyan; the hair, eyes, armor and tail gave her away. This must mean I'm on planet Vegeta.
The hair was considerably shorter than most other saiyans. The eyes and the color of the hair were standard saiyan colors: either black or a very dark, near-black brown. The armor was an exact replica of the one on the mannequin: standard shoulder-plated AE/SSE armor, completely white except for the large SSE insignia displayed across the torso, which was a dark purple. Her scouter was a purple much like that of her own. Actually, in fact, that scouter seems awfully familiar... Oh. Of course. How painfully obvious.
"Are you aware that I can see you?"
Welp, so much for hiding. The messy, unmade bed must have given it away. Simply flying off to the side in such a way that she was directly below the chandelier, she spoke.
"Yes, I am. My name is Wyntre, as I'm sure yours is too."
That surprised the saiyan Wyntre considerably. How did this arcosian know of her name? It didn't make too much sense. Her name was indeed Wyntre (without a surname) and she was a part of the royal family: technically she was a Princess, but she was more commonly known as Lady Wyntre. Only now was she noticing an eery similarity that their faces, physical frames/height, and vocal composure held.
"However could you know that?"
She wasn't too surprised a stranger knew her name: anyone who's read the news could do so. What was more surprising was that an Arcosian who had (seemingly) snuck into her bedroom with eerily similar properties, not only knew her name, but also claimed to also be named Wyntre.
The Empress, on the other hand, was pondering a multitude of things. For a start, is Zexama around on the earth of this hypothetical dimensional plane? Did Lady Wyntre change the SSE as much as the Empress changed the AE? Is she peaceful, for that matter? Is she anything like most saiyans? Is she-
"Never mind, I don't want to know," she started, her hair suddenly bursting golden power. Apparently, she can 'go Super Saiyan'. Also, it seems saiyan nature is preventing her from not being an idiot. "Get out of here now or I'll force-feed you your eyes and make you dig out your own stomach with a rusty metal spork."
That escalated quickly. Both sides took caution and allowed their scouters to scan the other. Empress Wyntre, a bit under two million. Lady Wyntre, a bit over one.
"I recommend you rephrase that."
"Is that so? I am in a position to make threats: this is planet Vegeta, after all. You would be grossly outmatched if you started a fight. Besides, I could probably take you on as an equal if I suit up."
Many things were questionable, interesting or at least noteworthy in what had been said. For a start, it had been confirmed that their location had indeed been the corrigible planet, Vegeta. Another thing of interest was the confidence she held. It was almost as if she knew she was going to win, no matter what happened. The bit about being grossly outmatched was peculiar: Wyntre decided that she wasn't talking about the mindless mobs, but rather about a few (or perhaps just one) powerful super saiyans, as that was the more likely possibility. Perhaps the Lady was a good friend and trusted advisor to the incongruously-behaved Zucceta. For all she knew, perhaps it was the other way around. The most interesting thing about it, however, was the very end. The first things that came to mind were some form of cybernetic suit, robotic exoskeleton of some form or anything like these. Although, who knows? Perhaps putting on fancy suits makes you stronger in this universe.
Perhaps asking about the saiyan was a good idea, but she wasn't going to risk it. She didn't know what she was supposed to be doing either, which made the whole process a pain.
"What happened to Arcose?"
Only a small fraction of a femtosecond later, the asking of this question was regretted. She could see the worst kind of grin spread across the saiyan's face. She had thought that her saiyan equivalent might be different from the rest, like she was not like most Arcosians. This assumption was false.
"I was there, slaying many of your kind. I enjoyed their screams, praying for clemency, and I enjoyed the way their blood spurted around, almost as if dancing. While I was there, I took the liberty to nick some of the laboratories, gaining prototype external cybernetic enhancements that will give me the ability to defeat you if you don't leave in ten seconds."
How… disgracing…
"Ten."
This monster is an alternate version of myself?
"Nine."
All it needed was to be born a saiyan and I would have committed the same horrible cruelties.
"Eight."
I would have been an ignorant saiyan whose only technology is stolen from my victims.
"Seven."
No… no, this cannot stand.
"Six."
To think: who was there to protect Arcose when it needed it most?
"Five."
And now, planet Vegeta is the seat of power on a universal scale.
"Four."
Of course it is, people tend to follow idiots.
"Three."
These saiyans have no power. They are strong, sure, but they have no power.
"Two."
They lack the power to swap an iron fist for a silver tongue. If they lose their strength, they lose everything.
"One."
They are powerless before the Indiscriminate Truth.
A thick cybernetic suit of white and purple, remarkably similar to the normal armor that she wore, covered the princess. The helmet looked very much like the SSE symbol. Really? She just stole the Intelligent Radar-oriented Abetting Trouble-Eradicator class of Arcosian Police Department riot-breaker suits, painted it and replaced the technological mask with something you might see in a two-dollar shop just so that it looks like the SSE's symbol. "Zilch."
"Before you embarrass yourself further, I'd like to remind you that, with the exception of that piece of scrap metal on your head you might call a helmet, you are wearing policing gear designed to control crowds in riots. Thanks to me being familiar with my lessers, I happen to know the failsafe code just in case someone unworthy gets their grubby paws on the suit."
That caught the attention of the Princess, not acting despite the climactic countdown. In her eyes, Wyntre could see both curiosity and fear, with the latter overpowering the former. The thing was, the Empress did actually know the failsafe code, but she probably didn't have to. The same events would have occurred, whether or not she was bluffing did not matter. Unless, of course, she had to use the code, which was a possibility if things didn't go smoothly. In this event, let's just be thankful that she, indeed, was not bluffing.
"What are you implying?" asked the saiyan who already knew the full extent of what was being implied. "Tssasi F5. That was one of the failsafe codes, one of the three I know. Without turning off the suit, it limits all movement and restricts. You can't move or get out of it. In other words, you're stuck. I suppose you could feel grateful I didn't activate the self-destruct sequence, if you want to."
Fortunately, the suit's creator didn't differ too much in this new realm: the passcode was the same in both 'realities'. This was proven when the saiyan tried to fly forwards, only to be stopped by the suit. She was ever so enraged.
She was furious that some Arcosian she had never met had hid herself in the Royal Bedchamber. She was livid because some lizard disabled her battle armor and trapped her in it. She seethed because an enemy stranger waltzed into her home, made a fool of her and told her that she could be grateful. This will not stand! With an explosion of anger, chunks of metal flew out in all directions, both surprising the Arcosian and leaving no more suit on the saiyan.
"You're gonna regret that."
Something tells me I'm about to get a strong feeling of déjà vu. Wyntre woke up in a shock. She was in a large, mysterious bed she had never seen before in a large, mysterious room she had never seen before. There it is.
Happy that she didn't have to fight her angry saiyan equivalent, she looked around the accommodating bedchamber. It was luxurious, yet business-like. Much of it was 'colored' with different shades of grey. Nice carpet, too. However, Wyntre could spot the pattern. This probably wasn't her bed. Actually, it probably belonged to some alternate version of herself. Some alternate version of herself that was probably walking down the corridor and into the room now.
Steps were heard: quiet steps. Careful steps. They didn't belong to a mindless, stupid brute, but rather they belonged to someone deserving of such a bedchamber. That was a good sign. Figuring that she shouldn't even bother hiding, she simply made the bed and sat on a comfortable chair, waiting for the newcomer to enter.
As expected, the being (and presumed owner of the bedchamber), was an obvious alternate self of Wyntre. She was a naturally-pale human with a similar frame/face-shape with purple hair tied back and eyes of red: the same red. They used to say that, when you look into the vinous eyes of Wyntre, you think of red wine before blood. She wore long, black attire that looked like a mix between formalwear and businesswear, allowing only the skin of the head and hands to be seen. The scouter showed a Power Level of 30.
"You hadn't booked an appointment, I assume?"
She looked only annoyed. She asked her question because people with an appointment usually don't appear in her bedchamber. The fact that the intruder was an Arcosian was surprising, but not overly so.
"You assume correctly. We are on earth, are we not?"
The human only nodded slightly. That was all she really needed to do. Pressing a button on the wall near the door that she had just entered, the wide curtain on the far side of the room opened up, revealing a wide glass pane, which in itself revealed what was behind it: an earthian city. However, Wyntre couldn't quite place what city they were in. She walked over to the broad window, trying to find some landmarks from any of the major cities in order to identify it, and in the process realized how far away the ground was.
"I assume you're seeking refuge from the destruction of Arcose. My room is not the place you will attain it. I recommend you go to either this building's hub or the Blue Banner Headquarters."
Wyntre thought about what had been said. By the way the building was mentioned as a place to go for refuge, she assumed that it was used to hold refugees fleeing from Zucceta's horrible gardening. Interesting… Earth is a place of galactic safety for Arcosians, even without the meeting between the Administrator and I. The Empress turned to face the successful entrepreneur and CEO, preparing one of her famous introductions.
"I am the Exalted Empress Wyntre Cold, the High-Benevolence of Arcose. I invented a mechanism that calculates a neutron's momentum and location simultaneously, despite the uncertainty principle, with the parts you'd find in a toaster. I personally turned an asylum full of psychopaths into a hospital of medical staff by staring at it. I have defeated paradoxical time anomalies by talking to them for a while. I have achieved feats you couldn't even begin to imagine. I am neither bluffing nor boasting, but rather recounting. So no, to answer the question you didn't ask, I do not seek 'refuge', for that would be silly."
The human looked over, unimpressed. "If this is the case, what is it that you seek?"
A small smile formed on Wyntre's face. She walked over across the room to analyze three busts atop three plinths, her smile widening slightly when she recognized who they were modeled after: Themis, the Greek Titaness of divine justice and what had named the Themis Cannon, one of Wyntre's attacks. Dikē, the Greek Goddess of moral and mortal justice, also the daughter of Themis. Lastly, Apollo, the god of the sun, poetry, light, knowledge and music. It's amazing what you can tell about statues such as these merely from minor details, facial expressions and other such clues.
"Oh, it's simple. All I want is the truth. For a start, who are you?" she asked, already knowing roughly what the answer was going to be. She asked anyway, of course, not because she wanted to know the answer, but rather because, besides common civility, it was an opening to ask more questions.
"My name is Winter. I am the Overseer, Administrator, Owner and Founder of Winter Corporation™ and all of its many subsidiary companies. Is it a coincidence that our names are one and the same?"
Well, that answered Wyntre's first question. The answer was, indeed, what had been expected: an alternate version of Wyntre. If there were subtitles, she would have noticed the spelling difference, but she had no subtitles and thus couldn't have, and therefore hadn't, noticed. It was interesting to find out about 'Winter Corporation™': by the way the Blue Banner Army was mentioned, the impression was given that they were in some form of joint effort to deal with Arcosian refugees.
"Short answer: no. Long answer: technically yes, if we're getting into pedantics. However, we probably should not go into that level of technicality for a multitude of reasons, reasons you don't need me to spell out for you. Do you… do you know Zexama?"
Winter was surprised to find that 'Wyntre' knew about Zexama. How could that even happen? The cybernetic enhancement around her ear that looked like an odd hearing aid or an earphone was actually linked to a computer, a computer that said that 'Wyntre' both should not and did not exist: not only was she not in any records, not only was she not in any Royal Arcosian Family Trees, but the cameras couldn't see her, even though they could hear her.
"She is a friend. How do you know about her? And what do you know of her?"
This was a nice surprise, a hopeful one, but her face did not show it. It was good to know that a Zexama was in this… place… as well as another in hers. So, as to respond to Winter's barely-informative, four-word, twelve-letter statement, she began to think about what to say and nearly finished before she started.
"'She is a friend'," she echoed, "I'll tell you as much as you tell me."
Winter could almost be heard frustratedly growling. Almost. Her curiosity about how the Arcosian knew about Zexama dimmed down greatly. So, rather than give information that may be important, she had instead decided to do something else entirely: she decided to change the subject.
"There is no mention of a 'Wyntre' in the AE record books. In fact, the closest piece of data we have is of a 'Vintr', but that was ages ago. So, suffice it to say, I have a theory. You are not the Empress of the Arcose. Your name isn't Winter," she started, unaware of the 'Winter'/'Wyntre' difference, "you are not a friend of Zexama and and you are a liar. I have reason to believe that you waltzed in here to cause only trouble and chaos. Perhaps, however, the reason you continually pester me is rather a ploy to buy time in order to try to look for clues for the location and mode of access of my valuables. It won't work."
"I suppose I see why you might believe this. After all, I have a long history of dealing with, and being killed by, people who don't quite understand what they're talking about. If I did want your valuables, I would have taken them before you've even entered the room,-" she said, opening the mouth of the Themis bust like a chest to find a small golden key. She walked over to a small key-slot in a brobdingnagian frame of gold that surrounded a regal-like portrait of her, despite having no apparent royal bloodlines flowing through her. Leaning on the electronically-sustained fireplace below the painting, she placed the key into its slot and twirled it around, opening a secret panel in the fireplace that revealed a compartment full of gold, jewels and treasure. "-But I won't. It really isn't that hard to figure out, if you're observant. I could take all of your valuables and be gone before you'd notice. You see, What I want isn't currency, but it is far more valuable: as I had said beforehand, I merely seek the truth and the truth I will attain."
The human realized that the Arcosian was speaking honestly. The Arcosian realized that the human realized that the Arcosian was speaking honestly. The human realized this and the Arcosian realized that the human realized this. This kept going for a while.
"Why do you try to attain such truth from one such as myself? I am not a computer terminal, nor am I a vast database of the information you seek."
Wyntre tried to consider the point, but she had already done so many times prior. So, in order to not go through the thought process she had already went through, she merely pretended to consider the point when she had known what she was going to say from the beginning.
"Yes, I have realized all of that a while ago. However, I have not consulted one such device for two reasons. The first reason being that I haven't had the opportunity because I woke up here only moments before you entered. The second reason is because, let me put it this way, I'd much rather hear me talk to me."
The human entrepreneur was, originally, going to question how and why the stranger 'woke up' in her bed and how that could possibly be a reason for what was happening. However, her train of thought flew straight off a cliff and onto a new track when she heard the second reason.
"Are you implying that-" "Yes, I am."
"So that means that-" "Obviously."
"But that would imply that-" "In a way, yes, although it isn't quite that simple."
Winter was flabbergasted. There were so many questions she needed answered. The very thought of it, though: she would have been an Empress! She also would watch her planet fall around her and die… perhaps this explained why she was so dedicated to giving Arcosian refugees a haven of safety. Hang on, did the alien not say that she had experience being killed by people who don't know what they're talking about? Wouldn't that imply that she had experience being killed? Wouldn't that imply that she had experience dying? Wouldn't that imply she had died?
Wouldn't that imply that Winter, too, will die? She was to ask this, but when she snapped out of her thoughts, she couldn't see her Parallel Self anywhere. This was, of course, because she simply wasn't there.
Oh dear, not again. Wyntre woke up in a hurry, having an idea of what to expect. However, it was only when she knew what to expect that what she expected was not what was.
Hang on, am I where I think I am? Yes. The answer to that question was yes. She woke up in a room that was cleaner than polished soap in an antiseptic en suite. Getting out of the eloquently-made bed, she observed her surroundings as nostalgia flooded through her.
She could see herself. Or, more accurately, she could see a younger version of herself whose age was still a single-digit. The younger Arcosian hadn't noticed her 'elder' like she would have if this situation was a standard one. It was not. The 'elder' had the creeping suspicion that she would be unable to properly influence this 'scene'. It was almost as if she was a ghost in a living world. Oddly appropriate, given how alive I am at the current moment in time.
She spotted Ibarlhok, a Litt Advisor who retired only a year before she became the Empress. Given his facial expressions and posture, she could tell that bad news was about to be given.
"Lady Wyntre, I come with grave news," Called it, "You have been accused of conspiring against your parents."
Oh, this. Of course, the event was remembered, even though the memory of said event had changed due to remembering more important things, such as anything except this. It wasn't exactly a highlight in her political career.
"Well, that's simply not true. What daft fools would actually believe that?" exclaimed both Arcosians in unison, the unsuppressed one knowing to do so simply because she remembered what happened. "A good portion of the universal population does, Princess."
What the suppressed Wyntre had yet to figure out was that a whole lot more than a good portion of the universal population was comprised of daft fools. "Get one of our Quantum Computers to scan the entire ScouterNet. I want to know where this rumor originated."
Ibarlhok deeply nodded and respectfully left the room as to follow orders. He was an old Litt, damaged by the ravages by time: he could have retired a long while ago, but he greatly enjoyed his service and put off retirement until he began having liver problems. He died only a few weeks before the invasion and was mourned as if he was a (non-despised) member of royalty. The soon-to-be deadman entered the room once again.
"Lady Wyntre, the Computers have been swift. We now know what sector the first mentions were uttered in. Let's see here… Yes, that little sector in the corner, more commonly known as the Earthian Sector or other similar names."
"Hmm. Set course to 'Earth'. Scan the area for spacecraft. You're dismissed, have a good day."
Ibarlhok gave a nod and a smile and followed through with the orders, leaving once again. As soon as he left, the suppressed Arcosian let her frustration show, uttering something about how she was going to have to delay the wine tastings in order to swipe up some lying scum. She glanced over her bed and found something she shouldn't have: I could have sworn I've made my bed.
Oh, not again. Wyntre woke up, annoyed. However, to her surprise, she was not in a bed. She wasn't sure how she should have felt about that. Where she was, however, was a location much worse than a bed.
She woke up on the dark, damp cobblestone in an alleyway she had never seen before. That was a good start.
Wiping off water that probably wasn't wholly water and dirt that smelled of the contents of a urinal with a broken flusher, she rose. Resisting the urge to slip into a psychotic rage, she instead summoned an army of tissues and sanitary products from her (seemingly small) pockets and compartments to alleviate the damage from the Unclean Scourge more commonly known as the floor.
Her Scouter had a very good idea of where they were: Arcose. As for the time they were in: they could be at any time before Zucceta tried gardening. It's odd how the Scouter was being treated like a person: 'they' was used instead of 'she' and the word had been capitalized. Not foreshadowing or anything, of course.
The Empress peered around a bustling city street. Judging from a quick look, both the Scouter and its wearer came to the conclusion that they were more than a thousand years in the past. It was good to see that trade was everywhere: Arcosians were often merchants of some description: they could have sold goods, non-sentient life forms, sentient life forms, planets, their allegiances or someone else's death.
Trying to blend into the crowd, she walked into the masses in order to get where she wanted to go without having herself being noticed. It didn't work. She wasn't even visible for any more than a second, but people were bowing before her, perhaps groveling. They gave great regards and gifts with joy: before you could have said 'pumpernickel doctorate' she was holding a great number of food-items (some of which she couldn't identify), charms of some description and multiple other things. So much for remaining hidden.
Of course, aside from commoners and citizens, the attention would attract more, perhaps unwanted, attention. Now wearing half a dozen different types of wreaths. She tried not to step on bowing people before quickly deciding to simply levitate over and passed them.
The potentially-unwanted attention came in the form of a flying mime with a fire-stick. Yes, really. The figure energetically jumped about, allowing it to be obvious that he was there.
He was unnaturally pale, although the unnatural paleness seemed natural, oddly. Tear-like markings around and under both eyes that resembled tattoos or make-up appeared as if it was an evolutionary trait made to redirect light into the eyes more accurately, a trait also found in multiple kinds of big cat and raccoon. He wore black and white power armor, of course, but the weapon he held seemed to be out of place: it was a rod of a wood-like unascertainable substance with two flaming balls on either side. According to her Scouter, the 'staff' had ki being channeled through it while the wielder seemed to have none left for himself. It seemed doubtful that he was hiding his true power. He must be heavily reliant on that weapon and his skills wielding it: his Power Level is less than one hundred, one strike and he's out cold. His double-ended flaming staff, however, has enough ki power to be equivalent to four hundred thousand PL. Wyntre's (apparent) Power Level was far less than 0.4 million, even if her true capabilities were far above. She slowly shifted her PL up to one hundred thousand, so as to be weak enough to not be considered strong, but strong enough to not be considered weak, as she was in her True Form.
The mime looked at her for a while, seemingly curious, before simply nodding respectfully and flying off. It was obvious that she had caught his attention, but he seemed to do little about it. Perhaps she was to be expected?
She hadn't even dared move for a while after that. However, after the half-minute that felt like a half-hour had passed, she unfroze, giving evidence to the onlookers that she wasn't an upright corpse. What am I to do in a situation such as this?
She soon found herself surprised during the act of looking up, at which time she had seen something she had never seen before, but was quite familiar with, in an odd way. Is that-?
Atop a hill, a great distance away from her, was a palace. An unfamiliar palace sat there in a familiar position, in a familiar location and in a familiar style. It was, undoubtedly, designed by Arcosian architects. It was also in the exact same location as her own palace (not to mention the very same), only smaller: expansions have been made over the years, some of which Wyntre had caused. She was, without a fraction of a smidgeon of a dot of doubt, in the past. The Empress had already come to this conclusion when examining what was being sold on the city streets, but now she had a large amount of evidence (a whole palace of it) and the ability to pinpoint their location in time.
Yes, I had just said 'their' and not 'her'. And no, this is not a reference to the Scouter.
She was not alone.
An enraged fist smashed against an irregular table. Frustrated breathing narrated the contents of a crystal ball, much like the one Egregore had. With a swipe of his fist, bones shattered as Solanale screamed, desiring only to escape the pain.
"You have done poorly."
The saiyan didn't respond in anything except incomprehensible jibberish and guttural nonsense. The magical restraining device painfully constricted and distorted his body from every angle as an arm plunged through his chest and pulled out a heart as the desperate whimpers ceased.
"You will do better this time."
It was at that point when the silence was replaced with the roar of a dead man.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The great gate hesitantly opened, revealing the Throne Room Wyntre knew like the back of her hand. To the far left and to the far right were statues of great figures of yore, but they looked so new. Over down that corridor would be the Great Hall (that hadn't been built yet) and down that corridor would be a long series of staircases and corridors leading to a great number of things, including the Royal Chambers and a safety bunker… just in case. The throne was just as it had been, or perhaps will be. It had the same features, ridges and physical accentuations: heck, there was even a Wyntre sitting atop it! Hang on, that isn't right...
Atop the throne was an Arcosian, just like Wyntre in every which way imaginable except for a few minor details. The only discernible physical difference was what was being worn: it looked like a royal tunic of purple, white and gold. She was definite that she had never seen it before now, but it did look remarkably similar to something she had seen before, something she couldn't quite place.
"Greetings. Do ve have busi-ness? By looks ov things, you are member ov royalty, yet I do not know yor name."
From such a simple first statement, so much was learnt. It sounded an awful lot like the one atop the throne was new to the language. This was odd, considering that they were chronologically after thousands of years of recorded Arcosian rulers who knew the language. She decided not to point out the accent: after all, it is a good thing that she spent so long knowing only one of the rarer forms of Ancient Arcosian. Such a beautiful language…
"This is correct, I am royalty. My name is Wyntre Cold, as I'm sure yours is too. I'd like to talk to you about a matter most urgent in private."[/purple]
The one atop the throne looked down on the figure that looked so much like her and had an oddly similar name, gathering theories. In the corner of her eye, Wyntre could see figures watching their meeting, ready to step in at any time.
"You are mizinformed, my name iz Vintr, not 'Wyntre'. I ashume your name came from mine, it iz common name und vare-ee-ay-shuns are expected. I can ashore you that anything that iz important enough to be urgent shud be speaken of freelee, without zecrets or zubterf-"
An explosion occurred, interrupting Vintr's beautiful accent. As everyone looked to Wyntre (including Wyntre) and then to the door, everyone had a question but didn't dare ask it. Out of the shadows emerged warriors, but it was clear that these warriors were here to protect their Empress. Another loud noise was heard, much closer this time, as no one dared move. That was until one of the lesser elites thought it would be a good idea to break the silence and the suspense in a way most expected.
"What was that?"
You could easily determine the importance of the lesser elite from multiple factors: the unbolded, uncolored speech he spoke in, the lack of capital letters in his title and the lack of a long, overly-descriptive paragraph that accompanied many newly-introduced characters. I'd wager a decent amount of zeni that he was going to die soon, but of course I'd do that. After all, I have power over who lives and who dies in this thread, so of course I'd wager a decent amount of anything if I had such sure control over it.
An explosion occurred right right outside, next to the intricately-designed metal door that dwarfed everyone inside in size. The blast itself started to melt the door, lower portions were starting to glow a dangerous shade of red.
When the great gate was directly hit, it was hit off of its hinges like a golfball off of its tee, bouncing and scraping against the floor, smashing into a single lesser elite soldier: the very same that had made the prior exclamation. Seeing beyond the smoke and smolder, Wyntre could see a familiar figure, one that she had never thought that she would see again.
Nightshade had changed. His hair was missing certain chunks, a large amount of the hair on the left appeared to have been violently ripped off. His upper central torso, where the heart would normally operate, had been removed roughly, leaving a sight most asymmetrically displeasing, especially when you notice the dried blood surrounding the wound. His posture reminded some of a corpse being hung from the neck.
"Iz zis one ov your friends?"
Wyntre shook her head slightly, looking over to the awkwardly-disjointed neck of what used to be a saiyan. "No, but he is one of my… enemies, I suppose. I've only fought him recently, in a thousand years time or so."
The last line warranted an odd look. The Empress hadn't an idea why the attention had suddenly dropped to her. Meanwhile, the unmistakably-alive, cadaver-like threat floated closer, its legs being pulled along, scraping against the floor like dragged rope. The area around it seemed to lose color as the unblowing winds sang of hope and the lack thereof.
Scouters beeped alarmingly as the numbers became apparent. It has a Power Level of Seven Million. Many shared the same reaction, but all were adamant. The last of the lesser elites, all nine of them, prepared their grossly-underpowered energy weapons, aimed, and told the thing to stand down. It wouldn't have went well for them if Vintr hadn't ordered them to get out of the way.
"Tell me more about intruder. Fragaria, activate the Intendant."
As the entity neared, its head rolled from one elbow to the other in a way most violent, leaving both Empresses with slight sick feelings in their stomachs. "Solanale. He was sent to capture or kill me by someone known as Vortigern. He was far less powerful back then, but he also used to be a bit more… presentable," she started, motioning the areas of skinless flesh, "This is the second time we've encountered each other. Hopefully there won't be a third time."
To that, Vintr nodded, having understood the premise. If she were evil, she might have let Solanale take Wyntre and be done with it. Not only was she not evil, but she had a considerable amount of reason to continue talking to the stranger. She seemed to know a great deal about the future and she was a Royal Arcosian, why ever would she be given up so easily? Meanwhile, she thought in the Ancient Arcosian language which had been conveniently translated (without an accent) as: Her name is remarkably similar to mine, and she is nearly identical to me. Perhaps she was named after me by relatives. If this was the case, why had I not heard of this, why had we not met? She could not be lying, that would not make sense. It's either I'm dealing with a twin sibling that has been kept a secret from me or we're dealing with a time-traveling descendant. While both possibilities have merit, I have more reason to believe the former. This was Gelid's work, wasn't it? But why would he keep a secret such as this? No, perhaps my parents had discreetly kept a rival for the throne simply to spite me. But how can this explain the naming that is so similar, but not the same?
"Zir Solanale, I reck-west you stay away from us. Zis vill be your last vaurning."
This warning was not heeded, nor heard. However, a response was returned, but not of the vocal kind. Without even the slightest sign of hindrance on part of Nightshade, the Ruler of Ages Past was pushed backwards like a rag-doll and - coincidentally - was thrown onto her throne, prompting the real Elites to take action, taking defensive stances. These were not yours nameless, faceless, lower-case footsoldiers, these were the easily identifiable/distinguishable mascots of order and power! A fan of comparisons might have compared them to, say, a larger version of the Ginyu Force with a total of eight members.
The most noticeable of the eight was the Mime, the very same that Wyntre had previously encountered. It now made far more sense as to why he had acted the way he had: he must have thought that she was Vintr, but found the differences in apparel odd. Still having the power level of four hundred thousand (and this channeling all of this into his weapon), his unique staff spun above his head faster than the human eye could track, its two ends spurting flames. As had been deduced earlier, he had belonged to a species
Apart from the Mime that Wyntre didn't know was actually named 'Mime', the second and third next most noticeable were two furry individuals who stood quite close to each other protectively. Having had analyzed similarities in apparent bone structure and such, the Empress had come to numerable conclusions, one of which being that they were related, probably siblings. Another conclusion was of the species they belonged to: they were members of the Cat People of Ger'gin, more commonly referred to as the Gerginians. They were known for their thick fur, their feline qualities, their prehensile tails and their rarity. The one closest to Wyntre was known as Zingiber, but of course she did not know this at the time. Zingiber was golden-furred, but had a crown-like mane of orange around his head. He was a stoic, yet proud, gerginian of considerable physical strength. His facial structure reminded her of her own Saber-Lion, Meggs. Atop his head was a jeweled crown, marking him as some form of royalty: he was the Prince of Gerginia if Wyntre were to guess. Their planet, unfortunately, had been caught in a solar flare only a few years in either the past or future, the dates weren't accurate enough to say. What she assumed to be the sister of the duo was named Asarum, a smaller, more agile female gerginian with chocolate-like brown fur and a crown that looked just like her brother's. Despite their different appearances, they both had a power level of three hundred thousand.
Next was a saiyan she didn't know was named Kartoffel. He had a lopsided beard and hair that looked like it was never washed. He was strangely protective of both Vintr and Fragaria (another of the eight), having nearly stood in front of both defensively if not for their orders for him not to. What more she didn't know of him was that he was a famed linguist of the time and had been charged with, alongside Fragaria, teaching Vintr the common tongue. During this time, he has become infatuated with Fragaria. His power level stood a small amount under four hundred thousand.
Another figure was human-like, but simply didn't seem it. After noticing an odd hatch in his neck, she figured out that the figure was an Android. Remembering what Vintr said earlier, she figured out that Fragaria must have activated him vocally. He was built for (and partially by) Vintr to serve as an Elite and as an Intendant. This was, understandably, why he was affectionally known as the Intendant. He was unnaturally pale and had purple hair, following the white/purple color theme to the extreme; it let you know quite clearly who built him. Standing straight, as if at a formal event, the Intendant considered if he should even bother being involved in the upcoming conflict, having a power level of only two hundred thousand.
Nearing the end, there was an over-dressed Namekian, wearing at least three layers of clothing. Across his forehead were what looked like the remnants of severe burn marks which had somehow not healed with the great regenerative ability of the namekian people. What she didn't know, and there always was something, was that the namekian, Achatin, had snuck (accidentally) onto the ship of smugglers who took refuge from saiyan authorities with the assistance of the friendly namekian population and had been left on Arcose (where the smuggled goods had been sent) by accidentally sneaking himself into a box of space-prawns. Charged with (again, accidentally) destroying rare market goods when looking for his friends, he started working for Vintr until he could afford a ship to Namek. He had enough money within the first few hours of work - it does pay a lot - but had enough fun within that small amount of time to convince him to stay. He was horrified by the display in front of him, holding back his stomach's outburst, but confident that they would stand a good chance against it if they worked together. His contribution to this was four hundred thousand PL.
Penultimately was Lakazama, the jolly pink Majin Chef who served the entire palace grand meals with a permanent smile on her face. No one can name a single occasion where she wasn't happy, mostly because there are no occasions like this. For obvious reasons, 'Laka', as she was known, reminded Wyntre of her good friend Zexama, despite them sharing little except species, gender, general attitude and color. Laka used to live on earth, but took up tourism and stayed on Arcose, one of the hotspots for universal tourism, because of the wide range of ingredients found in the markets that had been sourced from just about everywhere. To pay for the meals hundreds of times larger than her, her empty pockets/wallet/purse persuaded her to work in the food industry. Being a cook/bodyguard was close enough to accept. Happy to work with friends, she continued smiling with her power level of three hundred thousand.
Lastly was the unofficial leader of the group, Fragaria. Having had gained much of Vintr's trust over a long time of knowing each other, Fragaria was the primary teacher of the common tongue to Vintr, alongside Kartoffel, when she gave in and decided to learn it. She was a Brench/(Zarbon species name) hybrid with light green skin, free-flowing dark green hair and two different eye colors: her left eye was orange, while the right was blue. The illegitimate daughter to a high-ranking advisor to Vintr's father and an unknown mother, Fragaria wasn't treated well as her father tried to find a legal way to get rid of the living proof of his unfaithfulness to his wife. He kept on searching until he found an opportunity in the form of Vintr's tenth birthday. With highly-questionable morality/legality, she was given as a servant to the then-princess Vintr, hoping that he would never hear from her again. The normally melancholy hybrid found new meaning under the guidance, friendship and tutelage under her new lady. Now, she was greatly respected by everyone who knew her and was known as an a very tall, picky woman of standards higher than the frequents of an opium den. Geddit? When she wasn't refusing Kartoffel's constant pitiful advances, she was training to increase her power level of eight hundred thousand.
If Wyntre knew their stories, she would have tried not to grow attachments of any kind. They were all dead. They met their demises over a thousand years ago: with considerable luck, Nightshade would be among the dead. That sure sounded gruesome. That was when a voice came out of nowhere that only Wyntre could hear…
"Oh dear, my apologies. It seems we've been interrupted. I'll bring you back now, just one mo-" "No."
The response was quiet, no one else quite heard. No one except Mime, of course. His species most often communicated with members of other species by lip-reading. However, despite this, he thought little about it. After all, what are the chances of someone talking but only her being able to hear it?
"Pardon?"
"I'm remembering my Brenchian history. Vintr called the brenchian Fragaria, right? Duchess Fragaria is said to have stopped the horrific Quebarbe Rebellion with one speech, preventing noble brench families from rebelling. The future might be drastically different if she died."
That caught Mime's attention. Did so much depend on Fragaria? Mime then realized that Wyntre didn't know that Fragaria was a hybrid, making it entirely possible that they could be different people. This was wrong.
"Your actions will not affect the time-stream. The real Vintr has never met you."
Wyntre acted as she began to charge her Full-Power Death Beam, the ki dancing around her finger. Following her actions, Vintr attacked, followed by her Eight. They came from all sides, attacking, Nightshade making no attempts to act. He didn't budge at all, nor was he affected. He simply levitated with the speed of a legless tortoise in Wyntre's direction.
"I still can't let them die." calmly exclaimed Wyntre, allowing everyone to hear her. It didn't matter much, they were slowing oddly… the nine physical attackers began losing their energy, slowing down at an alarming rate. Without Nightshade doing anything except ignore, fighters began falling at his feet, finding great difficulty breathing.
"You show magnanimity. Very well, await assistance."
Nightshade did the first thing he's done in a while that wasn't levitate or move its head in an awkwardly gory manner. He moved his arm and pointed at her, accusingly. Wyntre returned the gesture, pointing, but shot her charged Full-Power Death Beam straight into his face, a powerful thick beam of red ki flying through the air and completely vaporizing his neck and everything above it! Despite this, Nightshade's body simply levitated, still pointing. Drat.
Feeling a horrible feeling in her insides, she uselessly punched his torso as the feeling got worse. It felt like her heart had been replaced with a saw that was sapping her very being… No… no. Trying to resist the effects, she moved herself back up and tried to kick him, only hurting herself.
She wouldn't be able to notice it, but her skin had gotten far paler. Coughing up blood, Wyntre tried to speak, but found herself unable. Was this the end? Gathering the last reserves of her energy, she stood in defiance, grabbed his back through the whole in his torso and simply pulled herself through before collapsing, near lifeless, as everything went black.
Wyntre woke up in a hurry to see the blurry image of Egregore by her side. "Did you have a nice sleep? Before you ask, let me explain. Solanale was using the Indoctrination method that Vortigern must have taught him. It was the same technique that nearly worked on Vintr and her Eight, as well as what Vortigern had used on Solanale to bring him under his control not long before your first encounter. Empress Vintr and her group are safe." Egregore vocally pacified, allowing Wyntre to calm down, "You have proven that you deserve what will be given to you."
That piqued her curiosity. It also had given her two questions to ask, perhaps only to herself. The first of these questions was as such: what reward could possibly be worth the potential intense mental trauma involved with seeing what may as well be a mutilated corpse effortlessly defeat someone who looked just like you, before overcoming the actual you, headless, with ease? The second question was exactly the same as the first question because it was simply that important a question. "Do go on."
"After encountering you, those I have shown you have gone to great lengths to find you again. The first you have found, the Saiyan, gave up trying to find you after the first five minutes. However, to try to prevent such humiliation occurring again, she developed a technique to, in effect, lie. It allows your apparent power level to be higher than it actually is. Meanwhile, the Human tried a lot harder to find you, finding ways to disobey the laws of physics with her great laboratory expanses. While she couldn't quite break through the walls of reality, she had managed to find a way to temporarily disable some of the weaker laws with concentrated amounts of ki. By strongly vibrating each atom in the exact same way, she was effectively able to phase through matter without damage. Vintr, after your encounter, learnt the arts of the external powers of the mind. She scoured sector after sector for you telepathically, but she couldn't find you. These techniques are going to be the second half of your reward, but we have a first half to go through first. Aren't I so generous?"
Wyntre was skeptical. As her feet met the ground, she looked around the room she was in. It was a cube-shaped room, being around thirty meters in all directions. Looking behind her, she noticed that where she had rested was no longer there. Or, perhaps, she was levitating while sleeping and hadn't noticed this in the hurry. The only other item (or lack thereof) of note was the thin pedestal in the middle of the room with a red button atop it.
"Whatever happened to Solanale?"
Wyntre looked back to the figure of white and gold, Egregore, as he shifted slightly, as if preparing an action. "To make sure that those you have met are not attacked by Vortigern, I have moved them to another part of this Realm. I have removed Vortigern's influence from Solanale and I've informed him of what had happened to him. He is with the others and had asked to see you after your gift. This was, of course, after the second attempt… you'll be told about that. Please wait here, I have business to attend to. Friends will explain your gift in my stead. Farewell."
With those words, the tall man disappeared into what seemed to be calm clouds, leaving Wyntre to try to make sense of what Egregore said when he mentioned that this place, his home, was a 'Realm'. After a fraction of a second, she came to the conclusion that the area around her was, most likely, a pocket-dimension, or a dimension in and of itself. Now that the 'realm' question had been solved, she was left wondering what 'friends' were going to meet her and who were they friends of: Egregore or her?
Her scouter alerted her to the two new power signatures. Conveniently, it also remembered what names were used in reference to to these signatures: Fragaria and Vintr. Turning to face the entrants, she saw how their power levels had increased: Vintr's had increased from around 1.95 million to around 2.73 million while Fragaria's had increased from four fifths of a million to 1.15 million. Seeing them, she suddenly realized how this sudden increase in power occurred. They both appeared older: around fives years older, actually. You'd barely notice it, if you weren't as observant as she was.
"Empress Wyntre. It has been too long."
With the same keen observation and with only one sentence, the younger Arcosian learnt that Vintr's accent had lessened, but not vanished. A shame, really. It was nicer, earlier.
"It has, Empress Vintr. What had happened after our encounter?" she asked, mostly to be polite, as she already had a good idea of what had happened. Still, it is better to hear from someone who had partook in the events than to hear from someone who had only watched she thought, remembering the meanings of the latin word 'Egregore'. Instead of Vintr answering, the once-silent Fragaria spoke, finally letting Wyntre know what her voice sounded like. You'd be surprised by what you can learn from someone's voice.
"After we nearly died, Vintr thought that you defeated Solanale. She went to great lengths to thank you and to learn more about the Royal that didn't exist yet. Everywhere. We checked everywhere, we looked everywhere, but you were nowhere to be found. She searched when we could have trained. We searched when we could have ruled. Your intervention did not help with my newfound duties as a Duchess, nor did it help with Vintr's duties as an Empress. As the Empress. After gaining new skills, we searched for your mind, but not even with telepathy could you be found. It was only after five years, when Solanale returned, that the Man of White and Gold brought us, all of us, here. So, to answer your question, that was what happened after our encounter."
That long paragraph of speech left Wyntre unsure of what to do or say for approximately 0.0003 epytorolacyoluaseconds, a measurement of time so inconceivably small that it isn't known to be in any dictionaries (when it actually is) because its entry is so small that the word that needs to be used to describe how small it is needs its own entry which is as small as its own definition would suggest. Or, in other words, she immediately knew what to say and do.
"Or, to summarize, 'I became a Duchess, Vintr gained telepathic powers and Solanale returned'. It's amazing how much you can unnecessarily extort and elongate what can be said in only eleven words. Do you want me to apologize for what is beyond my control? Then I apologize. But, despite this, It still isn't very civil to allow all of your venomous spite to expand such a simple sentence nearly twelve times over. What is it that Egregore has sent you here to do?"
Seemingly unaffected by the brief verbal battle between the two, Vintr gently pushed Fragaria back behind her, stopping any potential physical violence. As the green figure nearly seethed rage, Vintr calmly spoke.
"I assume you've seen pedestal in the center of room. Atop that pedestal is button. This button is directly linked to heart of Queen Zucceta."
"This is your gift. The Killing of your Killer. Revenge for Arcose. Revenge for you. Press it and Zucceta dies."
Interesting. The Empress turned to the pedestal oddly, wondering how the device worked. Why and how it worked and was put in place seemed far more important than if she should. She walked over to the pedestal and closely analyzed the plastic, red button. Who would have guessed that such a simple, mundane object could slay a great beast such as Zucceta?
"Tell me about Zucceta,"[/color][/b] politely ordered the Deceased Ruler, more curious than stern. "We know no more than you do concerning her."
This was nothing that she didn't already know, but she was asking anyway. What she needed was a few opinions to help shape her decision. This decision could change much, so very much… W"I'm aware. Tell me everything you know about her anyway."
In the little time that Vintr had in between being brought to her current location and being called to explain the task, the Empress had managed to read the first million words of Wyntre's book, therefore completing a tenth of the first book. This was no achievement: Wyntre had started writing them annually ever since her sixteenth birthday and each one was larger than the last, starting at ten million. Now, with so much happening, the tenth autobiography truly was to be monumental… just think of all of the complicacy concerning the philosophy of life, the lack thereof and all that can be found under neither! Unfortunately, Wyntre didn't know who Zucceta was when she was 16, she would be spared that dissatisfaction for years to come. Thus, she wasn't even mentioned at all, even if her cognate kindred were.
"We know she's Queen of Vegeta. We know she conquered Arcose and slew you."
"We know no more than that about Zucceta."
The Tailed Beast murdered her. She directly caused the Invasion of Arcose, killing many! She deserved no mercy, so why wasn't she pressing the button? She cupped her hands around the red, preparing for something, anything, as she thought. Zucceta is the epitome of what a person should not be like. If only she knew the full scope of her actions, we would have been on better terms. But no, as had been demonstrated by the Queen's incompetence on Arcose, she can not be trusted with a tree, yet alone the SSE. She should die, I should press the button. But why can't I?
"What do you think she's like?"
Fragaria and Vintr gave each other odd, confused looks, before looking back. "She sounds like a mindless conqueror. Kill her already."
"Now now," balanced Vintr, "Doing so might create a power vacuum, perhaps allowing a worse leader to come to power."
This was considered. Horrible things were going to occur, no matter if she pressed the button or not. Now all she had to figure out which possibility would be more horrible and choose the other one… but it wasn't that simple. There were simply too many unforeseen variables, too many ways for any one thing to occur in a way most unpredictable. Yes, she certainly wasn't a fan of Zucceta, but she couldn't let that get in the way of a good decision. But there was something else, something nagging her from the back of her head, and it was telling her both to press the button and not to.
"It is best not to interfere," she decided, moving away from the pedestal as if it were now a pillar of rotten cockroach corpses, "so I will not."
She turned around to face the Empress and her assistant, but found that they were no longer present. Taking their positions was the White Pontiff himself, Egregore. "It was pointless, wasn't it? The button didn't do anything, it was a test."
Egregore's ever-present smile turned with the rest of his face, shifting slightly. "Of course. The only reason I wasn't overseeing the test in person was because I'd rather not lie, I have people do that for me. In this case, Vintr and Fragaria were these people. Would you follow me?"
Wyntre walked through the white wall hallway, through the white door, and followed the Watcher through into a white room with a white floor. In this room Empress Vintr and her Eight could be seen. Intermingling with the group was Winter, the human, who was wearing an white plastic-suit you might expect a superhero to wear: Wyntre could only assume this granted her access to power of some description. There was also the inconveniently-named 'Wyntre', the Saiyan, who was currently looking at everyone as if she wanted to chop their heads off and eat their corpses. Unfortunately, this was expected. In the corner sat Solanale, now without anything you won't find on a saiyan.
"In my Realm, time operates disproportionately in relation to time in yours. You could spend a dozen years in here and less than half a second would have passed out there. Over the next six weeks, you will be taught certain techniques by those before you now. After those gifts, there comes enlightenment. Now, I must depart: I do hope you enjoy your present."
As the Man in White simply disappeared from vision faster than you can say 'trees are sentient, Bing is racist', Wyntre was left alone. Left alone to learn.
[Tulpa Touch technique learnt]
[Telepathy techniques learnt]
[Telekinesis technique learnt]
[Multi-Form techniques learnt]
[Ki Intimidation technique learnt]
She had not expected Zucceta to transform into a 'Super Oozaru'. She also had not expected Zucceta's stupidity and savagery go become even more extreme. It was disgusting how Zucceta described the Super Saiyan transformation as 'divine', when in truth it was anything but. Perhaps foolishly and temerariously barbaric, instead. This new transformation was merely two transformations together, neither of the two joining transformations being anything but an Id-controlled mindless berserk-mode with a hair-dye alternative and a bunch of blutz.
Despite this, the Natto development was interesting. Not just this whole 'Super Saiyan 2' kebabble, but also the most powerful SSE soldier simply quitting. It looks like he went over and introduced himself to a 'Toma' and a 'Ninjin Nedrag'... Ninjin. How did that name sound familiar? Whatever the case, Wyntre hoped Natto would further come to his senses and therefore become further enemies of the SSE. A person who supports the SSE follows its leader, while a person who is against the SSE understands its leader.
The Arcosian looked at the large crystal ball, annoyed, as she saw her friend and ally Administrator Azure and another figure, apparently named 'Reikiko', take up the fight against Zucceta as a 'Bing Gan' and Kaula seemingly fell down, heavily injured. Kaula, Wyntre had met her a while ago. She had the opportunity to give her some friendly advice concerning Blutz Bans and the legality of the situation. Meanwhile, Zucceta, perfidious harlequin of the saiyans, prepared a speech almost as if she knew what she was talking about. Almost
"Oblivion is natural. Entropy encroaches every day. Even you, the mechanical master of Earth: you cannot escape the end."
Of-course. Why bring up three points no one is disputing in a battle? You may as well state that one plus one is equal to two. Of course oblivion is natural: things are forgotten all the time. Fossils, until discovered, are in a state of oblivion as they are ignored and are left unbeknownst to the minds of anyone. That in oblivion is that which had been disregarded or forgotten: the word has no other meaning (excluding forgetfulness). Of course entropy encroaches every day: one day, in around ten to the power of ten to the power of fifty-six-ish years, absolute entropy will prevail with the heat death, which is an absurdly long way away. Despite this long wait, the end comes closer not just every day, but every picosecond, too. It is obvious that one day Administrator Azure will die, for it is impossible for anyone not to, but it is more obvious that his death will not be caused by your doings. This is, of course, assuming that he is alive, which I am not sure of.
"I am not cause, but effect. I am the legacy of oblivion. There is no creation left in me. I am what you people want me to be. I am what you people need me to be. You'd be nothing without me."
"That is one of the most inaccurate things I have ever heard! Hah, is she even trying? If you're trying to say something, it is highly recommended that you do not contradict what you had said only two sentences prior. It would also be a good idea to have at least one true statement. This would be comedy gold if countless innocent civilians hadn't perished in the process... as they had on Arcose."
"Although it seems the earth-chumps put up a bigger fight than you lizards."
Surprised, Wyntre turned around to see a figure her scouter had not picked up, a figure whose appearance matched his voice of fingernails on a blackboard slowed down 800x. He was a saiyan with high-class battle armor of colors that of midnight and that of blood. He was unusually large for a saiyan, too, but not by much. His hair was quite dark and closely resembled the hair of some nobles as well as an ancient figure whose name was comprised of a 'Veg' and an 'Eta', but it was far more rough and had some strains of hair going in different directions. Moving behind the saiyan was his tail, which was unusually the same color as his hair. Although, other than this, some strange features were seen. His skin was as pale as snow and his eyes were a sick sanguine. It was almost as if he was a vampiric saiyan (which he was not).
"And you are?"
With a flash of power, the being's muscle mass increased slightly as his hair became sharper and the color became golden, a super saiyan transformation happening at will. But what was this? Something was different, something was wrong. The pigment of his skin blackened as unholy red tattoo-like markings covered his body, even on his armor. With a pain-filled shout, two short horns ripped through his skin from his skull. His hair, while unchanged for the most part, flickered with different shades of gold. Finally picking up the signals, Wyntre's scouter alarmed her with his Power Level: 1.5 million, which was quite close to her own 1.9 million.
"My name was Solanale, but I had been reborn as Nightshade when I devoted myself to Vortigern! My Super Saiyan transformation had been augmented!"
A look of disappointment came across Wyntre's face as a small 'really?' could be heard. "That is the single most cheesy thing I have ever heard, and I'm friends with a bubble-gum girl who apparently learnt how to read by reading a book about how to read. On second thought, neither of those are actually that cheesy. Huh. My aplogies."
"This world is beautiful, but upon her body is a plague. Its greatest defenders are two monsters, two freaks outside of Earth's natural progress one mechanical, one biological. Neither of you belong here more than I. I won't leave this world to the weak!"
This one-sided conversation had gone on long enough. Besides, your empire crumbles away and your followers desert you. I don't have to see this fight to know what will happen at the end of it. You have been defeated morally, you have been defeated intellectually, now you will be beaten physically.
"Silence! I have been sent to kill you by order of Vortigern. Shrivel in fear!"
"Tell me, who is Vortigern?"
"You'll see. But, for now... Behold my power!"
With an inefficient shout, the ground beneath the supernaturally-augmented saiyan cracked and buckled as his muscle mass increased greatly. He was charging straight for her. Wyntre recognized the technique, some sort of power-bulking/power-weighting technique that gave you more offensive capabilities at the cost of your defense and speed. If the technique's opposite was available to learn, Wyntre would like to learn it.
"No."
Easily ducking under the brute's swinging arm, Wyntre swiped her tail and slammed it against both feet, tripping him as he fell to the ground, all within a fraction of a second. Taking an opportunity, Wyntre ducked down next to the saiyan and grabbed his flickering golden tail before he could get up. It seems she has won without being hit once.
"I'll ask again. Who is Vortigern? What does he want with me?"
"Get away from me!"
The Arcosian squeezed his tail as 'Nightshade' shouted in pain. "Vortigern... He's an immensely powerful being, not native to either the Other World or the one of the living. He wanted me to kill you before you did something, I don't know what! Just let go of my tail!"
Wyntre slowly and near-inaudibly signed. Why must this sort of thing always happen to her? She yanked away and separated his tail which quickly lost the golden coloration as he screamed, as if a child, in pain. "Thank you for cooperating. Now go away."
And go away he did: quickly, and in an afraid rush. Too easy.
A calm demeanor was nearly shaken out of its serenity by unforeseen events. "Vortigern? What is he doing, interfering with that realm? This simply cannot be good. Doesn't he know I have plans?"
Wyntre had an idea. This certainly was not the first time she had encountered a powerful foe, nor was it the first time she had encountered a very powerful foe in hell. No, there were two known occasions. The first was when a party of people, each being of a different common species, had come up to her and told her that their seemingly-benevolent master would like to see her before giving her a small white card with how to see him. The second was just then. She couldn't help but theorize the two had some sort of link...
According to 'Nightshade', Vortigern had sent him to stop her from doing something. Perhaps he was trying to prevent her meeting the other entity of name she did not know? Flicking out the small, white piece of paper, she saw what it said, finally, and had a sudden air of confusion about her. The small piece of paper contained only words in a small and curvy font reading a very simple two-letter phrase: 'look up'. And so she did.
There was nothing up there, besides a strange sky and a cover of yellow clouds, none of which was out of the usual for hell. Despite being, well, hell, the place was actually quite pleasant... That was, of course, assuming your standards weren't as high as Wyntre's. Looking back down, she was quite surprised to find that nothing had happened. Strange... Normally, something weird would happen. Reviewing the note again, there was no change. It only said 'look up' with no change whatsoever. What idiot thought that would work?
"If you want to fight me at my best, then why don't we fight one-on-one? Or do you need to hide behind that divine insect? The same offer extends to anyone here; you, Kaula, Reikiko. Face me like true warriors, damnit! You shut your dirty mouth, you godly whore! Your 'wild card' act gets old reaaaal fast. You were so willing to stand by me just weeks ago! I don't exist just to be a rival to you, you arrogant ass! We exist outside of your constellation, you fickle tramp! Cowards, all of you! You're ruining this planet!"
There are so many things wrong with Zucceta's mad ramblings, I'm not even going to bother to try to start with my analytical dissection. How could she be considered queen-material anyway? Power is completely irrelevant, judging a ruler by her/his strength is like judging an eskimo on her/his ability to eat spaghetti. As anyone who had been paying attention could tell you, Zucceta has honor in the same way that the corpse of a common fruit fly has control over galactic events. Everything she does is a demonstration of this. Her strategic skills involve bashing in the skulls of her foes and her diplomatic skills involve threatening to use her strategic skills. What does she have left, her bubbling personality? Of course not. If the saiyans accepted and/or continue to accept such a fool as their queen, they themselves are far more asinine than previously thought. I mean, she doesn't even play chess for crying out loud!
Looking down to the business-card like slip of thick paper, she noticed something quite peculiar. It read: 'No, the other up'. ... What... What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why did the paper change now? 'The other up'? There is no other up! To add to the confusion, Wyntre raised her eyebrows at the only recently-existing door that simply stood there. It was the type you might commonly find on earth: wood, painted white, with a handle of cheap metal. While the Arcosian had not seen this, the directing paper had changed once again, now plainly stating (in a more relaxed font), 'yes, that up'.
Step away from the door, Queen."
Wyntre didn't turn to face the returning black-haired figure. She simply had no need to. Nightshade ran off like the coward he is, although he seems more confident now that he has returned. It must be caused by the doings of Vortigern.
"Queen? You call me a queen? Such is expected from a delusional fool such as yourself. I am Empress Wyntre of Arcose, not some lowly queen!" she exclaimed, swerving around as she retrieved her tulpa-controlled sword from her back and pointed it towards him, "And you are a lowlife who can only grow more powerful by selling your very self to a malignant force. Pathetic, really."
At the very start, the only two discernible differences in his appearance were his regrown tail and his clothes: he was no longer wearing saiyan armor, but was rather wearing a simple unmarked black gi. Black hair ignited with gold as his Super Saiyan form was activated. Something seemed quite different, though. As he entered into a combative stance, great strain was put on his body as something began to happen. His muscles bulged and expanded as primitive golden fur began to cover him. He nearly doubled in size in the span of mere moments.
His tail shook unnaturally as a long scorpion-like blade formed on its end. His hair, constantly flickering, expanded and began to more closely resemble the hair of a lower-class saiyan. His eyes completely blacked out, except for two pin-sized red dots, one on each eye. The skin that could be seen past the emerging golden fur darkened many shades. Slowly, the fur, hair and tail all dimmed down from a glistering gold to a bland yellow, which itself became a dark orange and finally a black. His mouth grew terribly sharp fangs, more resembling that of a Great Ape's than anything else. His arms began to tremble and vibrate as each arm split into two, giving him four fully-functional arms that clapped against each other, intending harm. His black short horns expanded into that you might find on a ram. Finally, boney protrusions ripped through his skin and formed white blades of bones coming out of his elbows, fingers, toes and knees.
"Perhaps, but I would much rather be that than the dead Empress of a dead planet. This form I'm in incorporates the strength of the Oozaru, the power of the Super Saiyan and the dominance of everything unholy!"
The Arcosian tried her best not to show any response to the insult. She, for one, was tired of people transforming right in front of her. It happened every other day! She pressed a button on her scouter and was surprised to find it simply could not read his Power Level: almost as if it denied he existed.
"My-o-my, isn't that interesting? I never thought you could become any uglier, but now you've done that."
Wyntre didn't quite mean this, though. It was just showing that she was better at insulting than Solanale could ever be. Because she was. Besides, it isn't as if honesty is a sin. That door... If I can get through it in time, I might be able to avoid any conflicts.
"The chaotic beauty of this form is immense, don't you blabber on with your stupid accent!"
The tulpa-controlled blade in the hands of an Empress, the Arcosia, was slowly shifting. 'Tulpa', as a concept, could potentially be explained as a form of thought-form, but it wasn't that simple. The white blade was comprised of many scientific intricacies Wyntre had found over the years, all of which working together to listen to her will and form itself in accordance. Concentrating her mind, she formed a mental image of the desired outcome as what was only seconds prior a sword was forming into a staff.
"No, my friend. The way I speak is not in any accent, this is simply what it sounds like when you pronounce everything correctly."
That one seemed to have struck a chord. I think it was C minor. Maybe. I'm not very good with music.
"I don't care about the pronounciation, you're going to die!"
"It's 'pronunciation', actually, but I doubt you'd c-" Wyntre was quickly cut short, rudely interrupted, by a quick punch to the face, giving her a big shock as the attack sent her flying meters backwards. Bouncing against hellish stone, the Arcosian rolled against the dirty lithic floor with only surprise on her face.
"Now, you fall!"
Recovering quickly, Wyntre pushed herself back on her feet with her tail and got in a defensive position. As Nightshade charged forwards, Wyntre wisely dashed to the side in time, but her lower leg was unfortunately caught by one of his two prehensile bladed tails before she could get away further. Falling upside-down, she struggled against the grabbing tail. Trying to grab it and exploit the weak spot of many saiyans, she was disappointed to find this vulnerability was simply not there: Nightshade didn't even flinch. This is going to be a lot harder than last time. "Get off, now!" sternly ordered Wyntre as she crossing her arms angrily, almost whining in the process. Trying to shoot the tail with ki to no effect, she noticed that, whatever his power level was, it was far greater than hers. That was a problem. A big problem. As Solanale the demonic saiyan whistled, a large portal of black appeared that bristled with cold colors. It sounded like the howling wind of a thunderstorm and smelled like burnt rubber.
"This portal will destroy itself after something has passed through, meaning there is to be no return for you!"
Wow, thanks for giving me the most obvious plan ever' Wyntre thought sarcastically. I mean, it's not as if a 2-year old child could think up a plan to subvert it. To avoid going into the portal with the precious few seconds remaining, she knew of a single technique that may be able to defend her. It would have to be precisely timed, late enough to have Solanale go through the portal yet early enough to not go through herself. It must, too, be powerful enough to push away the powerful being. Wyntre knew of but one technique that could do this, the Fimbulvetr.
Dazzling the environment in purple ki, it came to Wyntre's aid to defend her as a shield which knocked away the tail of a surprised Nightshade. He fumbled backwards, but not quite enough to step into the portal behind, leaving it intact. Too early, I suppose. Still trying to figure out what happened, the seemingly-infrangible beast remained in a state of surprised irresolute abeyance.
That was when something happened. It was almost as if she was in extreme gravity, but her temperature fluctuated from extreme to extreme every few seconds. She felt her heart beating in her sinuses. She could hear a fly burp from eighteen miles, yet she could not hear her own thoughts. She felt a beaver gnawing on her intestinal chord from within. Strong senses of vertigo and dizziness befell her as she couldn't help but ponder if these effects were caused by Vortigern from afar. Regaining herself, Wyntre quickly noticed something odd: Solanale seemed to be in a strong paroxysm of pain as his muscles twitched and tried to collapse against him, his skin looking like it wanted to flee from him and jump off. What happened next could only be compared with a matryoshka doll as multiple levels of his being were separated. That, however, was when his body began to burn up, despite no fire near-bye, or any apparent reason for it to. Like embers at a campfire, His body began to evanesce away into the air surrounding: it did not look, in any such way, that he was enjoying it. Mere seconds later, molten skin cooled down, leaving only languid ash blowing in the wind. Was this supposed to place Nightshade in an precipitant eternal state of ignominy? Perhaps it was just a lethal punishment? Perhaps Vortigern really just likes to murder his... 'Assassins'? 'Retrievers'? 'Servants'? Them, whatever their names happened to be. Alternatively, perhaps, Vortigern decided not to interfere with the door or the act of me going into it, although if he had done this because of feelings of curiosity or self-preservation I cannot as of yet determine. This would of course come with the assumption that either might be the case, which is probable, considering it is impossible for it not to be.
That was all done and finished. Now, she would be free to go through the door seemingly above comprehension. From this, she would simply not know what would occur next. It would kill her, it could not. It might travel to itself, it may direct her to the other side of the door. It may bring her to some place new and exciting. Or it could not. The possibilities ended in the same way something that can't end ends. She had a thought, it wasn't particularly a good one. What if Vortigern had sprung a trap? what if he had replaced the door during the fight or changed its output properties? It might bring me before him, it might kill me immediately. Or it might not. She signed irresolutely. But it still may.
She placed her hand on the door's handle, almost expecting it to open by itself, but it did no such thing. Opening the door with a click, Wyntre was only mildly surprised to find a shining endless abyss of white on the other side. What was that she could hear? It sounded vaguely like flowing water. Allowing her scouter to try to figure out was going on, the scouter simply denied there was something there, like it had done to Nightshade, which was an interesting development. While she internally debated whether to step through or not, she thought of many factors that may influence or be influenced by the door, this situation and the Nightshade incident. Picking up a conveniently-placed withered leaf from the floor, she scrunched it up into a ball and threw it through. She didn't hear it hit the ground. Should I simply trust this door? Perhaps.
That was when she stepped through as the light enveloped her like a wrapper around around a present. She felt an odd feeling: it was similar to falling asleep, except there was no apparent need to sleep. She was not tired, nor drugged, nor asleep.
But she was calm, divinely calm.
And then she went up.
No, the other one.
The Empress found herself in the middle of a ferocious headache. This was odd, because she saw neither piles of paperwork or Zexama around, and those two normally caused her headaches. But this was a different kind of ache.
She found herself in front of the very door she entered, but it seemed to be dissipating, fading. She had also found herself feeling like she was in an elevator going in every direction there was, including the other up. The next feeling she couldn't quite place. It was sort of like pins and needles around the entire body, it was sort of like being submerged in warm water, but it also felt like what electro-acupuncture would feel like if the pins were powered directly by an active thermonuclear reactor complex... Only without the pain, the horrible screaming, the warm water, an active thermonuclear reactor complex, some needles and powerful wire.
Finding herself floating nowhere, not even a star to be seen from any angle, the only thing she could see was that door she had come, slowly rotating as if it was not attached to anything and without gravity. Finding herself, too, not bound by the Fundamental Force, she tried to use her ki to fly to no avail. She muttered a clever, cuss-free exclamation of frustration and confusion under her breath, but as all of its kind do, it did not help the situation. Using her tail, she took hold of the brass handle to either push herself to it or it to her, perhaps both, she could not tell in the vacuum. Hang on, if this is a vacuum, how did I hear myself mutter a clever cuss-free exclamation? Hoping her questions would be answered soon, the door opened with a creak and she, despite logic, swam through what seemed to be a vacuum. Somehow. Don't ask questions you don't want answered.
And so she went on through.
She found herself pushed down by a strong gravity she wasn't expecting. This gravity gave her a good look at the floor: it was an interesting floor. It was like marble, in a few ways, but it was clearer, had no whisky imperfections and seemed nearly liquid. Nearly. She pushed herself off of the floor with a push, using her tail to prop herself onto her feet and had a little look around: it was a small hallway. An intricately-designed chandelier was held meters above her: upon closer inspection, Wyntre had found that the light was created by unusually-bright candles, candles that have either only very recently been replaced or candles that don't go out or melt wax. She supposed the white flame atop the still-fresh wick was an indication.
Walking to the end of the corridor, she peered past where the door might have been if the hallway had one. Stepping through, Wyntre was moderately surprised to find, below two steps of stairs in the shape of a semicircle, a person. It was a person she had never expected to see, mostly because she both had no reason to expect him and because they've never met before. Sitting in a comfortable chair in front of a warm white-flamed fireplace with an uniquely-shaped cup of an unknown beverage gently sitting in his hands, he spoke.
"Yes, that of niveous skin and vinous eyes. Righteous Empress Wyntre, the High-Benevolence of Arcose, I assume?" the being asked, not giving Wyntre enough time to say that 'Empress Wyntre' will suffice, "Would you care to join me for some cuvée de prestige"?
The entity's name was Egregore. He went into detail explaining what this meant and why he chose it as his name, Wyntre politely pretending she didn't know beforehand to let him have his explanation as if she was being taught: besides being an occult concept and a word for angels (fallen or otherwise), it was, most importantly, a word for 'watcher'. She had the feeling that he knew that she already knew about the word (as well as its cultural significance, meaning and etymological properties).
Egregore was a tall man with fair skin, calm fair hair without any hair-spikes some warriors enjoyed and emerald-like eyes. His robe was a pure, pearly white with circular and round markings in it made of gold. It left no skin or any other items of apparel visible except for his head and his gloves.
Egregore explained, in only a few short words, that he was an entity from another universe altogether, speaking little of the subject. While this happened, Wyntre pondered why all of the extra-dimensional interference was directed at her. He had told her that he would be willing to revive her... Meanwhile, Wyntre was enjoying the top-notch champagne that Egregore had given her a glass of, unconvinced of his words. Letting her scouter have a try, it completely denied that the being was even there, continuing the pattern.
Wyntre had soon realized that the group of five that had told her to meet with Egregore likely lived in the location. There were multiple doors leading to, presumably, multiple rooms, they may have lived in those.
"What reason do you have for doing that?"
Egregore chuckled warmly. It was not evil, nor malicious, but it was warm and (in a sense of the word) amused. Wyntre, on the other hand, acerbically crossed her arms with a decent dose of inquisition.
"I enjoy Order. It is in my sphere of influence, after all. You are one of the few people who have the ability to instill True Order on a galactic scale, I am simply allowing this possibility. However, do not think I will do this service without remuneration, as much as I would like to. You need to-what do they humans say? -'Prove your mettle'? Yes, that. You will have to pass three tests,-" he gently spoke, holding up three fingers visibly, "-All of which may be seen as either a challenge, a gift or both. You will have to defeat a friend of yours in a game of Earthian Chess. Next, you will have to deal with alternate versions and beings similar to yourself. Lastly, you will have to learn more about yourself. I apologize for the lack of information at this time."
Wyntre mentally compared Egregore with some type of travel host, mentioning the accommodations and such during a pre-planned holiday of some description. She also, of course, mentally questioned his motivation for doing what he has done. There were still so many mysteries, so many questions. Questions she planned on asking later, when he would likely be in a mood more likely to give straight answers. At least, that was the plan.
Wyntre sat in front of a board of chess. Plain, normal, two-dimensional chess. How primitive.
Chess was bound by rules. These rules stopped the game from deforming into a chaotic state of anarchy and made it what it is: stable, clear and law-abiding. Chess made sense in the same way that biology, the laws of physics, trigonometry, chickens, the distinctions put in place to separate types of cheese, just about every type of science and oh-so many other things made sense: because they can't not make sense. They simply have to. Even Zexama had to make sense, on occasion.
Sitting adversely to the Empress, in more ways than one, was Malign. If you remembered, Malign was, in a way, a version of the original representing her evil and malignant energies and feelings. This explains why Malign was, is and will continue to be so weak. After a long silence, Wyntre spoke.
"How are you here?"
Malign almost laughed. The truth was, she actually didn't know too much about how (or why) she was where she was. She had the odd compulsion to not want to know, but also another compulsion, perhaps more odd, to pretend she knew.
"You should not ask questions you don't want to be answered. Or do, I don't care," replied Malign, dodging the question.
Wyntre took the first move wordlessly as a Pawn, in front of the Queen, moved two spaces forwards. Her equivalent echoed her move less than a quarter of a second later. The game commenced.
"You are Malign. You are everything wrong with me. You signify all that is cruel, all that is uncaring and all that is ignorant. Not only are you an embarrassment, but I have the misfortune of being linked to you so closely. I am just glad you were such an insignificant part of me, or you might have had some form of influence on my decisions and actions."
The game was looking fortunately in Wyntre's direction. She had an area on the left part of the board, able to strongly defend from all directions except backwards and move forward stably. The other portions were set up as traps waiting to be activated. Malign would have been in a similar position, but her being a manifestation of evil and sin forced her to make impatient decisions, benefitting her only in the short-term but making the game worse immediately after. It was not uncommon for her to simply fall into one of Wyntre's traps and lures.
"Do you remember the old days, many years ago, when you first arrived on Earth? Do you remember how you got there?"
That was a question Wyntre hadn't expected to hear, and it certainly was not one she planned on directly answering. Malign saw minuscule changes in Wyntre's face. This was expected, they were both as keenly observant as each other and they both knew their own face, and therefore that of their alternative self. Malign therefore knew what these minuscule movements represented. Guilt.
"I did not forget," Wyntre simply replied. "Why are you bringing that up?"
The game was not going well for either side. Wyntre still held the advantage, but progress was slowly grinding to a halt on both sides as any major offensive attack was quickly acted upon and destroyed. However, through seizing an opportunity, Wyntre had gotten a bishop straight in the middle of Malign's defenses, but safe and out of the attackable spaces. This gave Malign one of three options: move the knight, move the rook or hope Wyntre doesn't do anything to try to exploit the slight hole in her defense. The first two options would, however, open up two strategic weaknesses in the web of pieces.
"Oh, just idle chatter. I wonder, how much of it do you remember?"
Wyntre made a bad move. Malign quickly used it to her advantage. She rephrased the question. "What do you remember?"
A young Wyntre impatiently stepped about. Surrounding her were bodies. Dead bodies. Bloodied, crushed, marred, vaporized or burnt corpses. She's done this… I've done this. But why? Why did I do this? The younger Arcosian looked out into the stars, devilishly smiling. Her future-self looks back in the mastered natural Arcosian state, the former unaware of the latter. Why had I done what I had done? An explosion was heard, rocking the ship. She remembered this moment, it was engrained into her mind like a hot iron. It was… wrong. She later learnt that the generator hadn't been maintained properly, causing it to shutdown, but she hadn't the slightest idea back then, back when she was a fool many years ago.
Above the main console, large alerts and warnings popped up and made as much noise as they could, like an eight-year old left alone with a piano. This was the moment earth's star began affecting the ship more and more. She could remember herself rushing over to the console, frantically trying to do something, anything, that could help, but to no avail. Silently, the gravity console and oxygen circulation systems shut down
And there it was. Having moved at very fast speeds, the star was very close. It took up most of the window, and it was tremendous. She was going to burn up, she was going to die. It was going to be the end. Such a thing is scarier than any foe or any monster. She could not negotiate with it, nor fight it. She couldn't even get close without frying out like a crisp. That was, thankfully, when a comet had nudged them slightly off-course… all through simple happenstance.
"I remember it clearly, as I am sure you do too. I have achieved remission, why are you bringing it up?"
The game wasn't looking good for Malign. Most of her defenses had been obliterated, any potential attack was shut down and enemy pieces encroached. She had only a few ideas remaining. "No reason." That was when Malign, fully aware of the problems her actions would cause, made an illegal move by moving her Bishop like a Rook or a Queen to take Wyntre's Queen.
"You can't do that, it's an illegal move." Malign cackled madly, creepily leaning forwards onto the table. Whether it was meant to intimidate or creep Wyntre out didn't matter, what mattered was that it did at least one of them. "And what are you going to do to stop me? There are rules disallowing changing minds or pieces post-placement. I also can't move twice without you having a turn in between. We're forced to play along, or else more rules will be broken. Also, check."
An amused Wyntre had her little internal giggle. Then it became a normal-sized internal giggle. Then a big internal giggle, to a small giggle, a normal-sized giggle and stopping once she was laughing loudly, almost as if something was funny, greatly annoying the listening Arcosian. The reason explaining why she was laughing as if something was funny was, quite simply, because something indeed was funny, as explained below.
"I could do a great number of things. The two most sensical things make just about as much sense as each other, but I think I'll choose the second one. The first one had already been initiated, technically, but I could act on it. You see, you have foolishly disqualified yourself with your illegal move. I could win any time I say I do. After all, we're using Earth Chess Rules set #8. Secondly, simply direct yourself to the board. You see how your Bishop is now out of the way? Checkmate."
In a victorious triumph, Wyntre moved one of her Rooks past where the Bishop would have been and knocked over the King. "… This is not fair."
Only a few short seconds after, Malign repeated the exact same phrase again. She slammed her hand against the board, frustrated, knocking over a few pieces and moving others in slight ways.
"I agree. It was fair, of course, until you made an illegal move. You tried to give yourself an advantage, but you overlooked the reality of the situation."
Enraged by the words, a growling Malign slammed her hands against the bottom of the table, flipping it around in the air. She was quite angry. So angry, in fact, that she flew towards Wyntre and started slamming her with arms, legs and a tail. The Empress, however, might not have known she was being attacked if she had no context, couldn't see the assailant or couldn't hear the assailant. Her body didn't budge, or be effected in any way for that matter. That was when the Empress effortlessly slapped her doppelgänger (of sorts) across the face and into the wall, ending the fight with ease.
Not knowing quite how, Wyntre found herself waking up in a bed she had never slept in before in a room she had never seen before. The bed was nicely made: it was comprised of a dark softwood, the color of the base and everything on top was strangely fitting and the fabric felt nice. Of course, it was a pile of cow manure in comparison to what she would normally sleep in, but still. That was when she saw a few defining features of the room.
Over to the side was a mannequin, dressed in some caped battle armor. This would have been nothing of notice, if it didn't have the SSE insignia largely shown. Over at the other side of the room, on top of a shelf, was a considerably-sized collection of skulls. That usually isn't a good sign.
She heard some encroaching feet, so she quickly rushed out of the bed in order to find somewhere to hide. It was a good thing she learnt how to suppress her ki, or everyone would have been alerted to a large power level. In order to hide from the singular being (as only one pair of legs could be heard stepping), Wyntre decided the best course of action would be to hide underneath the bed, but she realized that it had no underneath to hide in. Running out of time, she jumped up and positioned herself onto the chandelier, hoping that the chandelier, the connecting metallic rope and the roof were all strong enough to hold the weight. Admittedly, the Arcosian didn't add much to it.
She jumped up just in time to not be seen, consciously thanking the chandelier for not moving around or making any noises. The entering figure was definitely a saiyan; the hair, eyes, armor and tail gave her away. This must mean I'm on planet Vegeta.
The hair was considerably shorter than most other saiyans. The eyes and the color of the hair were standard saiyan colors: either black or a very dark, near-black brown. The armor was an exact replica of the one on the mannequin: standard shoulder-plated AE/SSE armor, completely white except for the large SSE insignia displayed across the torso, which was a dark purple. Her scouter was a purple much like that of her own. Actually, in fact, that scouter seems awfully familiar... Oh. Of course. How painfully obvious.
"Are you aware that I can see you?"
Welp, so much for hiding. The messy, unmade bed must have given it away. Simply flying off to the side in such a way that she was directly below the chandelier, she spoke.
"Yes, I am. My name is Wyntre, as I'm sure yours is too."
That surprised the saiyan Wyntre considerably. How did this arcosian know of her name? It didn't make too much sense. Her name was indeed Wyntre (without a surname) and she was a part of the royal family: technically she was a Princess, but she was more commonly known as Lady Wyntre. Only now was she noticing an eery similarity that their faces, physical frames/height, and vocal composure held.
"However could you know that?"
She wasn't too surprised a stranger knew her name: anyone who's read the news could do so. What was more surprising was that an Arcosian who had (seemingly) snuck into her bedroom with eerily similar properties, not only knew her name, but also claimed to also be named Wyntre.
The Empress, on the other hand, was pondering a multitude of things. For a start, is Zexama around on the earth of this hypothetical dimensional plane? Did Lady Wyntre change the SSE as much as the Empress changed the AE? Is she peaceful, for that matter? Is she anything like most saiyans? Is she-
"Never mind, I don't want to know," she started, her hair suddenly bursting golden power. Apparently, she can 'go Super Saiyan'. Also, it seems saiyan nature is preventing her from not being an idiot. "Get out of here now or I'll force-feed you your eyes and make you dig out your own stomach with a rusty metal spork."
That escalated quickly. Both sides took caution and allowed their scouters to scan the other. Empress Wyntre, a bit under two million. Lady Wyntre, a bit over one.
"I recommend you rephrase that."
"Is that so? I am in a position to make threats: this is planet Vegeta, after all. You would be grossly outmatched if you started a fight. Besides, I could probably take you on as an equal if I suit up."
Many things were questionable, interesting or at least noteworthy in what had been said. For a start, it had been confirmed that their location had indeed been the corrigible planet, Vegeta. Another thing of interest was the confidence she held. It was almost as if she knew she was going to win, no matter what happened. The bit about being grossly outmatched was peculiar: Wyntre decided that she wasn't talking about the mindless mobs, but rather about a few (or perhaps just one) powerful super saiyans, as that was the more likely possibility. Perhaps the Lady was a good friend and trusted advisor to the incongruously-behaved Zucceta. For all she knew, perhaps it was the other way around. The most interesting thing about it, however, was the very end. The first things that came to mind were some form of cybernetic suit, robotic exoskeleton of some form or anything like these. Although, who knows? Perhaps putting on fancy suits makes you stronger in this universe.
Perhaps asking about the saiyan was a good idea, but she wasn't going to risk it. She didn't know what she was supposed to be doing either, which made the whole process a pain.
"What happened to Arcose?"
Only a small fraction of a femtosecond later, the asking of this question was regretted. She could see the worst kind of grin spread across the saiyan's face. She had thought that her saiyan equivalent might be different from the rest, like she was not like most Arcosians. This assumption was false.
"I was there, slaying many of your kind. I enjoyed their screams, praying for clemency, and I enjoyed the way their blood spurted around, almost as if dancing. While I was there, I took the liberty to nick some of the laboratories, gaining prototype external cybernetic enhancements that will give me the ability to defeat you if you don't leave in ten seconds."
How… disgracing…
"Ten."
This monster is an alternate version of myself?
"Nine."
All it needed was to be born a saiyan and I would have committed the same horrible cruelties.
"Eight."
I would have been an ignorant saiyan whose only technology is stolen from my victims.
"Seven."
No… no, this cannot stand.
"Six."
To think: who was there to protect Arcose when it needed it most?
"Five."
And now, planet Vegeta is the seat of power on a universal scale.
"Four."
Of course it is, people tend to follow idiots.
"Three."
These saiyans have no power. They are strong, sure, but they have no power.
"Two."
They lack the power to swap an iron fist for a silver tongue. If they lose their strength, they lose everything.
"One."
They are powerless before the Indiscriminate Truth.
A thick cybernetic suit of white and purple, remarkably similar to the normal armor that she wore, covered the princess. The helmet looked very much like the SSE symbol. Really? She just stole the Intelligent Radar-oriented Abetting Trouble-Eradicator class of Arcosian Police Department riot-breaker suits, painted it and replaced the technological mask with something you might see in a two-dollar shop just so that it looks like the SSE's symbol. "Zilch."
"Before you embarrass yourself further, I'd like to remind you that, with the exception of that piece of scrap metal on your head you might call a helmet, you are wearing policing gear designed to control crowds in riots. Thanks to me being familiar with my lessers, I happen to know the failsafe code just in case someone unworthy gets their grubby paws on the suit."
That caught the attention of the Princess, not acting despite the climactic countdown. In her eyes, Wyntre could see both curiosity and fear, with the latter overpowering the former. The thing was, the Empress did actually know the failsafe code, but she probably didn't have to. The same events would have occurred, whether or not she was bluffing did not matter. Unless, of course, she had to use the code, which was a possibility if things didn't go smoothly. In this event, let's just be thankful that she, indeed, was not bluffing.
"What are you implying?" asked the saiyan who already knew the full extent of what was being implied. "Tssasi F5. That was one of the failsafe codes, one of the three I know. Without turning off the suit, it limits all movement and restricts. You can't move or get out of it. In other words, you're stuck. I suppose you could feel grateful I didn't activate the self-destruct sequence, if you want to."
Fortunately, the suit's creator didn't differ too much in this new realm: the passcode was the same in both 'realities'. This was proven when the saiyan tried to fly forwards, only to be stopped by the suit. She was ever so enraged.
She was furious that some Arcosian she had never met had hid herself in the Royal Bedchamber. She was livid because some lizard disabled her battle armor and trapped her in it. She seethed because an enemy stranger waltzed into her home, made a fool of her and told her that she could be grateful. This will not stand! With an explosion of anger, chunks of metal flew out in all directions, both surprising the Arcosian and leaving no more suit on the saiyan.
"You're gonna regret that."
Something tells me I'm about to get a strong feeling of déjà vu. Wyntre woke up in a shock. She was in a large, mysterious bed she had never seen before in a large, mysterious room she had never seen before. There it is.
Happy that she didn't have to fight her angry saiyan equivalent, she looked around the accommodating bedchamber. It was luxurious, yet business-like. Much of it was 'colored' with different shades of grey. Nice carpet, too. However, Wyntre could spot the pattern. This probably wasn't her bed. Actually, it probably belonged to some alternate version of herself. Some alternate version of herself that was probably walking down the corridor and into the room now.
Steps were heard: quiet steps. Careful steps. They didn't belong to a mindless, stupid brute, but rather they belonged to someone deserving of such a bedchamber. That was a good sign. Figuring that she shouldn't even bother hiding, she simply made the bed and sat on a comfortable chair, waiting for the newcomer to enter.
As expected, the being (and presumed owner of the bedchamber), was an obvious alternate self of Wyntre. She was a naturally-pale human with a similar frame/face-shape with purple hair tied back and eyes of red: the same red. They used to say that, when you look into the vinous eyes of Wyntre, you think of red wine before blood. She wore long, black attire that looked like a mix between formalwear and businesswear, allowing only the skin of the head and hands to be seen. The scouter showed a Power Level of 30.
"You hadn't booked an appointment, I assume?"
She looked only annoyed. She asked her question because people with an appointment usually don't appear in her bedchamber. The fact that the intruder was an Arcosian was surprising, but not overly so.
"You assume correctly. We are on earth, are we not?"
The human only nodded slightly. That was all she really needed to do. Pressing a button on the wall near the door that she had just entered, the wide curtain on the far side of the room opened up, revealing a wide glass pane, which in itself revealed what was behind it: an earthian city. However, Wyntre couldn't quite place what city they were in. She walked over to the broad window, trying to find some landmarks from any of the major cities in order to identify it, and in the process realized how far away the ground was.
"I assume you're seeking refuge from the destruction of Arcose. My room is not the place you will attain it. I recommend you go to either this building's hub or the Blue Banner Headquarters."
Wyntre thought about what had been said. By the way the building was mentioned as a place to go for refuge, she assumed that it was used to hold refugees fleeing from Zucceta's horrible gardening. Interesting… Earth is a place of galactic safety for Arcosians, even without the meeting between the Administrator and I. The Empress turned to face the successful entrepreneur and CEO, preparing one of her famous introductions.
"I am the Exalted Empress Wyntre Cold, the High-Benevolence of Arcose. I invented a mechanism that calculates a neutron's momentum and location simultaneously, despite the uncertainty principle, with the parts you'd find in a toaster. I personally turned an asylum full of psychopaths into a hospital of medical staff by staring at it. I have defeated paradoxical time anomalies by talking to them for a while. I have achieved feats you couldn't even begin to imagine. I am neither bluffing nor boasting, but rather recounting. So no, to answer the question you didn't ask, I do not seek 'refuge', for that would be silly."
The human looked over, unimpressed. "If this is the case, what is it that you seek?"
A small smile formed on Wyntre's face. She walked over across the room to analyze three busts atop three plinths, her smile widening slightly when she recognized who they were modeled after: Themis, the Greek Titaness of divine justice and what had named the Themis Cannon, one of Wyntre's attacks. Dikē, the Greek Goddess of moral and mortal justice, also the daughter of Themis. Lastly, Apollo, the god of the sun, poetry, light, knowledge and music. It's amazing what you can tell about statues such as these merely from minor details, facial expressions and other such clues.
"Oh, it's simple. All I want is the truth. For a start, who are you?" she asked, already knowing roughly what the answer was going to be. She asked anyway, of course, not because she wanted to know the answer, but rather because, besides common civility, it was an opening to ask more questions.
"My name is Winter. I am the Overseer, Administrator, Owner and Founder of Winter Corporation™ and all of its many subsidiary companies. Is it a coincidence that our names are one and the same?"
Well, that answered Wyntre's first question. The answer was, indeed, what had been expected: an alternate version of Wyntre. If there were subtitles, she would have noticed the spelling difference, but she had no subtitles and thus couldn't have, and therefore hadn't, noticed. It was interesting to find out about 'Winter Corporation™': by the way the Blue Banner Army was mentioned, the impression was given that they were in some form of joint effort to deal with Arcosian refugees.
"Short answer: no. Long answer: technically yes, if we're getting into pedantics. However, we probably should not go into that level of technicality for a multitude of reasons, reasons you don't need me to spell out for you. Do you… do you know Zexama?"
Winter was surprised to find that 'Wyntre' knew about Zexama. How could that even happen? The cybernetic enhancement around her ear that looked like an odd hearing aid or an earphone was actually linked to a computer, a computer that said that 'Wyntre' both should not and did not exist: not only was she not in any records, not only was she not in any Royal Arcosian Family Trees, but the cameras couldn't see her, even though they could hear her.
"She is a friend. How do you know about her? And what do you know of her?"
This was a nice surprise, a hopeful one, but her face did not show it. It was good to know that a Zexama was in this… place… as well as another in hers. So, as to respond to Winter's barely-informative, four-word, twelve-letter statement, she began to think about what to say and nearly finished before she started.
"'She is a friend'," she echoed, "I'll tell you as much as you tell me."
Winter could almost be heard frustratedly growling. Almost. Her curiosity about how the Arcosian knew about Zexama dimmed down greatly. So, rather than give information that may be important, she had instead decided to do something else entirely: she decided to change the subject.
"There is no mention of a 'Wyntre' in the AE record books. In fact, the closest piece of data we have is of a 'Vintr', but that was ages ago. So, suffice it to say, I have a theory. You are not the Empress of the Arcose. Your name isn't Winter," she started, unaware of the 'Winter'/'Wyntre' difference, "you are not a friend of Zexama and and you are a liar. I have reason to believe that you waltzed in here to cause only trouble and chaos. Perhaps, however, the reason you continually pester me is rather a ploy to buy time in order to try to look for clues for the location and mode of access of my valuables. It won't work."
"I suppose I see why you might believe this. After all, I have a long history of dealing with, and being killed by, people who don't quite understand what they're talking about. If I did want your valuables, I would have taken them before you've even entered the room,-" she said, opening the mouth of the Themis bust like a chest to find a small golden key. She walked over to a small key-slot in a brobdingnagian frame of gold that surrounded a regal-like portrait of her, despite having no apparent royal bloodlines flowing through her. Leaning on the electronically-sustained fireplace below the painting, she placed the key into its slot and twirled it around, opening a secret panel in the fireplace that revealed a compartment full of gold, jewels and treasure. "-But I won't. It really isn't that hard to figure out, if you're observant. I could take all of your valuables and be gone before you'd notice. You see, What I want isn't currency, but it is far more valuable: as I had said beforehand, I merely seek the truth and the truth I will attain."
The human realized that the Arcosian was speaking honestly. The Arcosian realized that the human realized that the Arcosian was speaking honestly. The human realized this and the Arcosian realized that the human realized this. This kept going for a while.
"Why do you try to attain such truth from one such as myself? I am not a computer terminal, nor am I a vast database of the information you seek."
Wyntre tried to consider the point, but she had already done so many times prior. So, in order to not go through the thought process she had already went through, she merely pretended to consider the point when she had known what she was going to say from the beginning.
"Yes, I have realized all of that a while ago. However, I have not consulted one such device for two reasons. The first reason being that I haven't had the opportunity because I woke up here only moments before you entered. The second reason is because, let me put it this way, I'd much rather hear me talk to me."
The human entrepreneur was, originally, going to question how and why the stranger 'woke up' in her bed and how that could possibly be a reason for what was happening. However, her train of thought flew straight off a cliff and onto a new track when she heard the second reason.
"Are you implying that-" "Yes, I am."
"So that means that-" "Obviously."
"But that would imply that-" "In a way, yes, although it isn't quite that simple."
Winter was flabbergasted. There were so many questions she needed answered. The very thought of it, though: she would have been an Empress! She also would watch her planet fall around her and die… perhaps this explained why she was so dedicated to giving Arcosian refugees a haven of safety. Hang on, did the alien not say that she had experience being killed by people who don't know what they're talking about? Wouldn't that imply that she had experience being killed? Wouldn't that imply that she had experience dying? Wouldn't that imply she had died?
Wouldn't that imply that Winter, too, will die? She was to ask this, but when she snapped out of her thoughts, she couldn't see her Parallel Self anywhere. This was, of course, because she simply wasn't there.
Oh dear, not again. Wyntre woke up in a hurry, having an idea of what to expect. However, it was only when she knew what to expect that what she expected was not what was.
Hang on, am I where I think I am? Yes. The answer to that question was yes. She woke up in a room that was cleaner than polished soap in an antiseptic en suite. Getting out of the eloquently-made bed, she observed her surroundings as nostalgia flooded through her.
She could see herself. Or, more accurately, she could see a younger version of herself whose age was still a single-digit. The younger Arcosian hadn't noticed her 'elder' like she would have if this situation was a standard one. It was not. The 'elder' had the creeping suspicion that she would be unable to properly influence this 'scene'. It was almost as if she was a ghost in a living world. Oddly appropriate, given how alive I am at the current moment in time.
She spotted Ibarlhok, a Litt Advisor who retired only a year before she became the Empress. Given his facial expressions and posture, she could tell that bad news was about to be given.
"Lady Wyntre, I come with grave news," Called it, "You have been accused of conspiring against your parents."
Oh, this. Of course, the event was remembered, even though the memory of said event had changed due to remembering more important things, such as anything except this. It wasn't exactly a highlight in her political career.
"Well, that's simply not true. What daft fools would actually believe that?" exclaimed both Arcosians in unison, the unsuppressed one knowing to do so simply because she remembered what happened. "A good portion of the universal population does, Princess."
What the suppressed Wyntre had yet to figure out was that a whole lot more than a good portion of the universal population was comprised of daft fools. "Get one of our Quantum Computers to scan the entire ScouterNet. I want to know where this rumor originated."
Ibarlhok deeply nodded and respectfully left the room as to follow orders. He was an old Litt, damaged by the ravages by time: he could have retired a long while ago, but he greatly enjoyed his service and put off retirement until he began having liver problems. He died only a few weeks before the invasion and was mourned as if he was a (non-despised) member of royalty. The soon-to-be deadman entered the room once again.
"Lady Wyntre, the Computers have been swift. We now know what sector the first mentions were uttered in. Let's see here… Yes, that little sector in the corner, more commonly known as the Earthian Sector or other similar names."
"Hmm. Set course to 'Earth'. Scan the area for spacecraft. You're dismissed, have a good day."
Ibarlhok gave a nod and a smile and followed through with the orders, leaving once again. As soon as he left, the suppressed Arcosian let her frustration show, uttering something about how she was going to have to delay the wine tastings in order to swipe up some lying scum. She glanced over her bed and found something she shouldn't have: I could have sworn I've made my bed.
Oh, not again. Wyntre woke up, annoyed. However, to her surprise, she was not in a bed. She wasn't sure how she should have felt about that. Where she was, however, was a location much worse than a bed.
She woke up on the dark, damp cobblestone in an alleyway she had never seen before. That was a good start.
Wiping off water that probably wasn't wholly water and dirt that smelled of the contents of a urinal with a broken flusher, she rose. Resisting the urge to slip into a psychotic rage, she instead summoned an army of tissues and sanitary products from her (seemingly small) pockets and compartments to alleviate the damage from the Unclean Scourge more commonly known as the floor.
Her Scouter had a very good idea of where they were: Arcose. As for the time they were in: they could be at any time before Zucceta tried gardening. It's odd how the Scouter was being treated like a person: 'they' was used instead of 'she' and the word had been capitalized. Not foreshadowing or anything, of course.
The Empress peered around a bustling city street. Judging from a quick look, both the Scouter and its wearer came to the conclusion that they were more than a thousand years in the past. It was good to see that trade was everywhere: Arcosians were often merchants of some description: they could have sold goods, non-sentient life forms, sentient life forms, planets, their allegiances or someone else's death.
Trying to blend into the crowd, she walked into the masses in order to get where she wanted to go without having herself being noticed. It didn't work. She wasn't even visible for any more than a second, but people were bowing before her, perhaps groveling. They gave great regards and gifts with joy: before you could have said 'pumpernickel doctorate' she was holding a great number of food-items (some of which she couldn't identify), charms of some description and multiple other things. So much for remaining hidden.
Of course, aside from commoners and citizens, the attention would attract more, perhaps unwanted, attention. Now wearing half a dozen different types of wreaths. She tried not to step on bowing people before quickly deciding to simply levitate over and passed them.
The potentially-unwanted attention came in the form of a flying mime with a fire-stick. Yes, really. The figure energetically jumped about, allowing it to be obvious that he was there.
He was unnaturally pale, although the unnatural paleness seemed natural, oddly. Tear-like markings around and under both eyes that resembled tattoos or make-up appeared as if it was an evolutionary trait made to redirect light into the eyes more accurately, a trait also found in multiple kinds of big cat and raccoon. He wore black and white power armor, of course, but the weapon he held seemed to be out of place: it was a rod of a wood-like unascertainable substance with two flaming balls on either side. According to her Scouter, the 'staff' had ki being channeled through it while the wielder seemed to have none left for himself. It seemed doubtful that he was hiding his true power. He must be heavily reliant on that weapon and his skills wielding it: his Power Level is less than one hundred, one strike and he's out cold. His double-ended flaming staff, however, has enough ki power to be equivalent to four hundred thousand PL. Wyntre's (apparent) Power Level was far less than 0.4 million, even if her true capabilities were far above. She slowly shifted her PL up to one hundred thousand, so as to be weak enough to not be considered strong, but strong enough to not be considered weak, as she was in her True Form.
The mime looked at her for a while, seemingly curious, before simply nodding respectfully and flying off. It was obvious that she had caught his attention, but he seemed to do little about it. Perhaps she was to be expected?
She hadn't even dared move for a while after that. However, after the half-minute that felt like a half-hour had passed, she unfroze, giving evidence to the onlookers that she wasn't an upright corpse. What am I to do in a situation such as this?
She soon found herself surprised during the act of looking up, at which time she had seen something she had never seen before, but was quite familiar with, in an odd way. Is that-?
Atop a hill, a great distance away from her, was a palace. An unfamiliar palace sat there in a familiar position, in a familiar location and in a familiar style. It was, undoubtedly, designed by Arcosian architects. It was also in the exact same location as her own palace (not to mention the very same), only smaller: expansions have been made over the years, some of which Wyntre had caused. She was, without a fraction of a smidgeon of a dot of doubt, in the past. The Empress had already come to this conclusion when examining what was being sold on the city streets, but now she had a large amount of evidence (a whole palace of it) and the ability to pinpoint their location in time.
Yes, I had just said 'their' and not 'her'. And no, this is not a reference to the Scouter.
She was not alone.
An enraged fist smashed against an irregular table. Frustrated breathing narrated the contents of a crystal ball, much like the one Egregore had. With a swipe of his fist, bones shattered as Solanale screamed, desiring only to escape the pain.
"You have done poorly."
The saiyan didn't respond in anything except incomprehensible jibberish and guttural nonsense. The magical restraining device painfully constricted and distorted his body from every angle as an arm plunged through his chest and pulled out a heart as the desperate whimpers ceased.
"You will do better this time."
It was at that point when the silence was replaced with the roar of a dead man.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
The great gate hesitantly opened, revealing the Throne Room Wyntre knew like the back of her hand. To the far left and to the far right were statues of great figures of yore, but they looked so new. Over down that corridor would be the Great Hall (that hadn't been built yet) and down that corridor would be a long series of staircases and corridors leading to a great number of things, including the Royal Chambers and a safety bunker… just in case. The throne was just as it had been, or perhaps will be. It had the same features, ridges and physical accentuations: heck, there was even a Wyntre sitting atop it! Hang on, that isn't right...
Atop the throne was an Arcosian, just like Wyntre in every which way imaginable except for a few minor details. The only discernible physical difference was what was being worn: it looked like a royal tunic of purple, white and gold. She was definite that she had never seen it before now, but it did look remarkably similar to something she had seen before, something she couldn't quite place.
"Greetings. Do ve have busi-ness? By looks ov things, you are member ov royalty, yet I do not know yor name."
From such a simple first statement, so much was learnt. It sounded an awful lot like the one atop the throne was new to the language. This was odd, considering that they were chronologically after thousands of years of recorded Arcosian rulers who knew the language. She decided not to point out the accent: after all, it is a good thing that she spent so long knowing only one of the rarer forms of Ancient Arcosian. Such a beautiful language…
"This is correct, I am royalty. My name is Wyntre Cold, as I'm sure yours is too. I'd like to talk to you about a matter most urgent in private."[/purple]
The one atop the throne looked down on the figure that looked so much like her and had an oddly similar name, gathering theories. In the corner of her eye, Wyntre could see figures watching their meeting, ready to step in at any time.
"You are mizinformed, my name iz Vintr, not 'Wyntre'. I ashume your name came from mine, it iz common name und vare-ee-ay-shuns are expected. I can ashore you that anything that iz important enough to be urgent shud be speaken of freelee, without zecrets or zubterf-"
An explosion occurred, interrupting Vintr's beautiful accent. As everyone looked to Wyntre (including Wyntre) and then to the door, everyone had a question but didn't dare ask it. Out of the shadows emerged warriors, but it was clear that these warriors were here to protect their Empress. Another loud noise was heard, much closer this time, as no one dared move. That was until one of the lesser elites thought it would be a good idea to break the silence and the suspense in a way most expected.
"What was that?"
You could easily determine the importance of the lesser elite from multiple factors: the unbolded, uncolored speech he spoke in, the lack of capital letters in his title and the lack of a long, overly-descriptive paragraph that accompanied many newly-introduced characters. I'd wager a decent amount of zeni that he was going to die soon, but of course I'd do that. After all, I have power over who lives and who dies in this thread, so of course I'd wager a decent amount of anything if I had such sure control over it.
An explosion occurred right right outside, next to the intricately-designed metal door that dwarfed everyone inside in size. The blast itself started to melt the door, lower portions were starting to glow a dangerous shade of red.
When the great gate was directly hit, it was hit off of its hinges like a golfball off of its tee, bouncing and scraping against the floor, smashing into a single lesser elite soldier: the very same that had made the prior exclamation. Seeing beyond the smoke and smolder, Wyntre could see a familiar figure, one that she had never thought that she would see again.
Nightshade had changed. His hair was missing certain chunks, a large amount of the hair on the left appeared to have been violently ripped off. His upper central torso, where the heart would normally operate, had been removed roughly, leaving a sight most asymmetrically displeasing, especially when you notice the dried blood surrounding the wound. His posture reminded some of a corpse being hung from the neck.
"Iz zis one ov your friends?"
Wyntre shook her head slightly, looking over to the awkwardly-disjointed neck of what used to be a saiyan. "No, but he is one of my… enemies, I suppose. I've only fought him recently, in a thousand years time or so."
The last line warranted an odd look. The Empress hadn't an idea why the attention had suddenly dropped to her. Meanwhile, the unmistakably-alive, cadaver-like threat floated closer, its legs being pulled along, scraping against the floor like dragged rope. The area around it seemed to lose color as the unblowing winds sang of hope and the lack thereof.
Scouters beeped alarmingly as the numbers became apparent. It has a Power Level of Seven Million. Many shared the same reaction, but all were adamant. The last of the lesser elites, all nine of them, prepared their grossly-underpowered energy weapons, aimed, and told the thing to stand down. It wouldn't have went well for them if Vintr hadn't ordered them to get out of the way.
"Tell me more about intruder. Fragaria, activate the Intendant."
As the entity neared, its head rolled from one elbow to the other in a way most violent, leaving both Empresses with slight sick feelings in their stomachs. "Solanale. He was sent to capture or kill me by someone known as Vortigern. He was far less powerful back then, but he also used to be a bit more… presentable," she started, motioning the areas of skinless flesh, "This is the second time we've encountered each other. Hopefully there won't be a third time."
To that, Vintr nodded, having understood the premise. If she were evil, she might have let Solanale take Wyntre and be done with it. Not only was she not evil, but she had a considerable amount of reason to continue talking to the stranger. She seemed to know a great deal about the future and she was a Royal Arcosian, why ever would she be given up so easily? Meanwhile, she thought in the Ancient Arcosian language which had been conveniently translated (without an accent) as: Her name is remarkably similar to mine, and she is nearly identical to me. Perhaps she was named after me by relatives. If this was the case, why had I not heard of this, why had we not met? She could not be lying, that would not make sense. It's either I'm dealing with a twin sibling that has been kept a secret from me or we're dealing with a time-traveling descendant. While both possibilities have merit, I have more reason to believe the former. This was Gelid's work, wasn't it? But why would he keep a secret such as this? No, perhaps my parents had discreetly kept a rival for the throne simply to spite me. But how can this explain the naming that is so similar, but not the same?
"Zir Solanale, I reck-west you stay away from us. Zis vill be your last vaurning."
This warning was not heeded, nor heard. However, a response was returned, but not of the vocal kind. Without even the slightest sign of hindrance on part of Nightshade, the Ruler of Ages Past was pushed backwards like a rag-doll and - coincidentally - was thrown onto her throne, prompting the real Elites to take action, taking defensive stances. These were not yours nameless, faceless, lower-case footsoldiers, these were the easily identifiable/distinguishable mascots of order and power! A fan of comparisons might have compared them to, say, a larger version of the Ginyu Force with a total of eight members.
The most noticeable of the eight was the Mime, the very same that Wyntre had previously encountered. It now made far more sense as to why he had acted the way he had: he must have thought that she was Vintr, but found the differences in apparel odd. Still having the power level of four hundred thousand (and this channeling all of this into his weapon), his unique staff spun above his head faster than the human eye could track, its two ends spurting flames. As had been deduced earlier, he had belonged to a species
Apart from the Mime that Wyntre didn't know was actually named 'Mime', the second and third next most noticeable were two furry individuals who stood quite close to each other protectively. Having had analyzed similarities in apparent bone structure and such, the Empress had come to numerable conclusions, one of which being that they were related, probably siblings. Another conclusion was of the species they belonged to: they were members of the Cat People of Ger'gin, more commonly referred to as the Gerginians. They were known for their thick fur, their feline qualities, their prehensile tails and their rarity. The one closest to Wyntre was known as Zingiber, but of course she did not know this at the time. Zingiber was golden-furred, but had a crown-like mane of orange around his head. He was a stoic, yet proud, gerginian of considerable physical strength. His facial structure reminded her of her own Saber-Lion, Meggs. Atop his head was a jeweled crown, marking him as some form of royalty: he was the Prince of Gerginia if Wyntre were to guess. Their planet, unfortunately, had been caught in a solar flare only a few years in either the past or future, the dates weren't accurate enough to say. What she assumed to be the sister of the duo was named Asarum, a smaller, more agile female gerginian with chocolate-like brown fur and a crown that looked just like her brother's. Despite their different appearances, they both had a power level of three hundred thousand.
Next was a saiyan she didn't know was named Kartoffel. He had a lopsided beard and hair that looked like it was never washed. He was strangely protective of both Vintr and Fragaria (another of the eight), having nearly stood in front of both defensively if not for their orders for him not to. What more she didn't know of him was that he was a famed linguist of the time and had been charged with, alongside Fragaria, teaching Vintr the common tongue. During this time, he has become infatuated with Fragaria. His power level stood a small amount under four hundred thousand.
Another figure was human-like, but simply didn't seem it. After noticing an odd hatch in his neck, she figured out that the figure was an Android. Remembering what Vintr said earlier, she figured out that Fragaria must have activated him vocally. He was built for (and partially by) Vintr to serve as an Elite and as an Intendant. This was, understandably, why he was affectionally known as the Intendant. He was unnaturally pale and had purple hair, following the white/purple color theme to the extreme; it let you know quite clearly who built him. Standing straight, as if at a formal event, the Intendant considered if he should even bother being involved in the upcoming conflict, having a power level of only two hundred thousand.
Nearing the end, there was an over-dressed Namekian, wearing at least three layers of clothing. Across his forehead were what looked like the remnants of severe burn marks which had somehow not healed with the great regenerative ability of the namekian people. What she didn't know, and there always was something, was that the namekian, Achatin, had snuck (accidentally) onto the ship of smugglers who took refuge from saiyan authorities with the assistance of the friendly namekian population and had been left on Arcose (where the smuggled goods had been sent) by accidentally sneaking himself into a box of space-prawns. Charged with (again, accidentally) destroying rare market goods when looking for his friends, he started working for Vintr until he could afford a ship to Namek. He had enough money within the first few hours of work - it does pay a lot - but had enough fun within that small amount of time to convince him to stay. He was horrified by the display in front of him, holding back his stomach's outburst, but confident that they would stand a good chance against it if they worked together. His contribution to this was four hundred thousand PL.
Penultimately was Lakazama, the jolly pink Majin Chef who served the entire palace grand meals with a permanent smile on her face. No one can name a single occasion where she wasn't happy, mostly because there are no occasions like this. For obvious reasons, 'Laka', as she was known, reminded Wyntre of her good friend Zexama, despite them sharing little except species, gender, general attitude and color. Laka used to live on earth, but took up tourism and stayed on Arcose, one of the hotspots for universal tourism, because of the wide range of ingredients found in the markets that had been sourced from just about everywhere. To pay for the meals hundreds of times larger than her, her empty pockets/wallet/purse persuaded her to work in the food industry. Being a cook/bodyguard was close enough to accept. Happy to work with friends, she continued smiling with her power level of three hundred thousand.
Lastly was the unofficial leader of the group, Fragaria. Having had gained much of Vintr's trust over a long time of knowing each other, Fragaria was the primary teacher of the common tongue to Vintr, alongside Kartoffel, when she gave in and decided to learn it. She was a Brench/(Zarbon species name) hybrid with light green skin, free-flowing dark green hair and two different eye colors: her left eye was orange, while the right was blue. The illegitimate daughter to a high-ranking advisor to Vintr's father and an unknown mother, Fragaria wasn't treated well as her father tried to find a legal way to get rid of the living proof of his unfaithfulness to his wife. He kept on searching until he found an opportunity in the form of Vintr's tenth birthday. With highly-questionable morality/legality, she was given as a servant to the then-princess Vintr, hoping that he would never hear from her again. The normally melancholy hybrid found new meaning under the guidance, friendship and tutelage under her new lady. Now, she was greatly respected by everyone who knew her and was known as an a very tall, picky woman of standards higher than the frequents of an opium den. Geddit? When she wasn't refusing Kartoffel's constant pitiful advances, she was training to increase her power level of eight hundred thousand.
If Wyntre knew their stories, she would have tried not to grow attachments of any kind. They were all dead. They met their demises over a thousand years ago: with considerable luck, Nightshade would be among the dead. That sure sounded gruesome. That was when a voice came out of nowhere that only Wyntre could hear…
"Oh dear, my apologies. It seems we've been interrupted. I'll bring you back now, just one mo-" "No."
The response was quiet, no one else quite heard. No one except Mime, of course. His species most often communicated with members of other species by lip-reading. However, despite this, he thought little about it. After all, what are the chances of someone talking but only her being able to hear it?
"Pardon?"
"I'm remembering my Brenchian history. Vintr called the brenchian Fragaria, right? Duchess Fragaria is said to have stopped the horrific Quebarbe Rebellion with one speech, preventing noble brench families from rebelling. The future might be drastically different if she died."
That caught Mime's attention. Did so much depend on Fragaria? Mime then realized that Wyntre didn't know that Fragaria was a hybrid, making it entirely possible that they could be different people. This was wrong.
"Your actions will not affect the time-stream. The real Vintr has never met you."
Wyntre acted as she began to charge her Full-Power Death Beam, the ki dancing around her finger. Following her actions, Vintr attacked, followed by her Eight. They came from all sides, attacking, Nightshade making no attempts to act. He didn't budge at all, nor was he affected. He simply levitated with the speed of a legless tortoise in Wyntre's direction.
"I still can't let them die." calmly exclaimed Wyntre, allowing everyone to hear her. It didn't matter much, they were slowing oddly… the nine physical attackers began losing their energy, slowing down at an alarming rate. Without Nightshade doing anything except ignore, fighters began falling at his feet, finding great difficulty breathing.
"You show magnanimity. Very well, await assistance."
Nightshade did the first thing he's done in a while that wasn't levitate or move its head in an awkwardly gory manner. He moved his arm and pointed at her, accusingly. Wyntre returned the gesture, pointing, but shot her charged Full-Power Death Beam straight into his face, a powerful thick beam of red ki flying through the air and completely vaporizing his neck and everything above it! Despite this, Nightshade's body simply levitated, still pointing. Drat.
Feeling a horrible feeling in her insides, she uselessly punched his torso as the feeling got worse. It felt like her heart had been replaced with a saw that was sapping her very being… No… no. Trying to resist the effects, she moved herself back up and tried to kick him, only hurting herself.
She wouldn't be able to notice it, but her skin had gotten far paler. Coughing up blood, Wyntre tried to speak, but found herself unable. Was this the end? Gathering the last reserves of her energy, she stood in defiance, grabbed his back through the whole in his torso and simply pulled herself through before collapsing, near lifeless, as everything went black.
Wyntre woke up in a hurry to see the blurry image of Egregore by her side. "Did you have a nice sleep? Before you ask, let me explain. Solanale was using the Indoctrination method that Vortigern must have taught him. It was the same technique that nearly worked on Vintr and her Eight, as well as what Vortigern had used on Solanale to bring him under his control not long before your first encounter. Empress Vintr and her group are safe." Egregore vocally pacified, allowing Wyntre to calm down, "You have proven that you deserve what will be given to you."
That piqued her curiosity. It also had given her two questions to ask, perhaps only to herself. The first of these questions was as such: what reward could possibly be worth the potential intense mental trauma involved with seeing what may as well be a mutilated corpse effortlessly defeat someone who looked just like you, before overcoming the actual you, headless, with ease? The second question was exactly the same as the first question because it was simply that important a question. "Do go on."
"After encountering you, those I have shown you have gone to great lengths to find you again. The first you have found, the Saiyan, gave up trying to find you after the first five minutes. However, to try to prevent such humiliation occurring again, she developed a technique to, in effect, lie. It allows your apparent power level to be higher than it actually is. Meanwhile, the Human tried a lot harder to find you, finding ways to disobey the laws of physics with her great laboratory expanses. While she couldn't quite break through the walls of reality, she had managed to find a way to temporarily disable some of the weaker laws with concentrated amounts of ki. By strongly vibrating each atom in the exact same way, she was effectively able to phase through matter without damage. Vintr, after your encounter, learnt the arts of the external powers of the mind. She scoured sector after sector for you telepathically, but she couldn't find you. These techniques are going to be the second half of your reward, but we have a first half to go through first. Aren't I so generous?"
Wyntre was skeptical. As her feet met the ground, she looked around the room she was in. It was a cube-shaped room, being around thirty meters in all directions. Looking behind her, she noticed that where she had rested was no longer there. Or, perhaps, she was levitating while sleeping and hadn't noticed this in the hurry. The only other item (or lack thereof) of note was the thin pedestal in the middle of the room with a red button atop it.
"Whatever happened to Solanale?"
Wyntre looked back to the figure of white and gold, Egregore, as he shifted slightly, as if preparing an action. "To make sure that those you have met are not attacked by Vortigern, I have moved them to another part of this Realm. I have removed Vortigern's influence from Solanale and I've informed him of what had happened to him. He is with the others and had asked to see you after your gift. This was, of course, after the second attempt… you'll be told about that. Please wait here, I have business to attend to. Friends will explain your gift in my stead. Farewell."
With those words, the tall man disappeared into what seemed to be calm clouds, leaving Wyntre to try to make sense of what Egregore said when he mentioned that this place, his home, was a 'Realm'. After a fraction of a second, she came to the conclusion that the area around her was, most likely, a pocket-dimension, or a dimension in and of itself. Now that the 'realm' question had been solved, she was left wondering what 'friends' were going to meet her and who were they friends of: Egregore or her?
Her scouter alerted her to the two new power signatures. Conveniently, it also remembered what names were used in reference to to these signatures: Fragaria and Vintr. Turning to face the entrants, she saw how their power levels had increased: Vintr's had increased from around 1.95 million to around 2.73 million while Fragaria's had increased from four fifths of a million to 1.15 million. Seeing them, she suddenly realized how this sudden increase in power occurred. They both appeared older: around fives years older, actually. You'd barely notice it, if you weren't as observant as she was.
"Empress Wyntre. It has been too long."
With the same keen observation and with only one sentence, the younger Arcosian learnt that Vintr's accent had lessened, but not vanished. A shame, really. It was nicer, earlier.
"It has, Empress Vintr. What had happened after our encounter?" she asked, mostly to be polite, as she already had a good idea of what had happened. Still, it is better to hear from someone who had partook in the events than to hear from someone who had only watched she thought, remembering the meanings of the latin word 'Egregore'. Instead of Vintr answering, the once-silent Fragaria spoke, finally letting Wyntre know what her voice sounded like. You'd be surprised by what you can learn from someone's voice.
"After we nearly died, Vintr thought that you defeated Solanale. She went to great lengths to thank you and to learn more about the Royal that didn't exist yet. Everywhere. We checked everywhere, we looked everywhere, but you were nowhere to be found. She searched when we could have trained. We searched when we could have ruled. Your intervention did not help with my newfound duties as a Duchess, nor did it help with Vintr's duties as an Empress. As the Empress. After gaining new skills, we searched for your mind, but not even with telepathy could you be found. It was only after five years, when Solanale returned, that the Man of White and Gold brought us, all of us, here. So, to answer your question, that was what happened after our encounter."
That long paragraph of speech left Wyntre unsure of what to do or say for approximately 0.0003 epytorolacyoluaseconds, a measurement of time so inconceivably small that it isn't known to be in any dictionaries (when it actually is) because its entry is so small that the word that needs to be used to describe how small it is needs its own entry which is as small as its own definition would suggest. Or, in other words, she immediately knew what to say and do.
"Or, to summarize, 'I became a Duchess, Vintr gained telepathic powers and Solanale returned'. It's amazing how much you can unnecessarily extort and elongate what can be said in only eleven words. Do you want me to apologize for what is beyond my control? Then I apologize. But, despite this, It still isn't very civil to allow all of your venomous spite to expand such a simple sentence nearly twelve times over. What is it that Egregore has sent you here to do?"
Seemingly unaffected by the brief verbal battle between the two, Vintr gently pushed Fragaria back behind her, stopping any potential physical violence. As the green figure nearly seethed rage, Vintr calmly spoke.
"I assume you've seen pedestal in the center of room. Atop that pedestal is button. This button is directly linked to heart of Queen Zucceta."
"This is your gift. The Killing of your Killer. Revenge for Arcose. Revenge for you. Press it and Zucceta dies."
Interesting. The Empress turned to the pedestal oddly, wondering how the device worked. Why and how it worked and was put in place seemed far more important than if she should. She walked over to the pedestal and closely analyzed the plastic, red button. Who would have guessed that such a simple, mundane object could slay a great beast such as Zucceta?
"Tell me about Zucceta,"[/color][/b] politely ordered the Deceased Ruler, more curious than stern. "We know no more than you do concerning her."
This was nothing that she didn't already know, but she was asking anyway. What she needed was a few opinions to help shape her decision. This decision could change much, so very much… W"I'm aware. Tell me everything you know about her anyway."
In the little time that Vintr had in between being brought to her current location and being called to explain the task, the Empress had managed to read the first million words of Wyntre's book, therefore completing a tenth of the first book. This was no achievement: Wyntre had started writing them annually ever since her sixteenth birthday and each one was larger than the last, starting at ten million. Now, with so much happening, the tenth autobiography truly was to be monumental… just think of all of the complicacy concerning the philosophy of life, the lack thereof and all that can be found under neither! Unfortunately, Wyntre didn't know who Zucceta was when she was 16, she would be spared that dissatisfaction for years to come. Thus, she wasn't even mentioned at all, even if her cognate kindred were.
"We know she's Queen of Vegeta. We know she conquered Arcose and slew you."
"We know no more than that about Zucceta."
The Tailed Beast murdered her. She directly caused the Invasion of Arcose, killing many! She deserved no mercy, so why wasn't she pressing the button? She cupped her hands around the red, preparing for something, anything, as she thought. Zucceta is the epitome of what a person should not be like. If only she knew the full scope of her actions, we would have been on better terms. But no, as had been demonstrated by the Queen's incompetence on Arcose, she can not be trusted with a tree, yet alone the SSE. She should die, I should press the button. But why can't I?
"What do you think she's like?"
Fragaria and Vintr gave each other odd, confused looks, before looking back. "She sounds like a mindless conqueror. Kill her already."
"Now now," balanced Vintr, "Doing so might create a power vacuum, perhaps allowing a worse leader to come to power."
This was considered. Horrible things were going to occur, no matter if she pressed the button or not. Now all she had to figure out which possibility would be more horrible and choose the other one… but it wasn't that simple. There were simply too many unforeseen variables, too many ways for any one thing to occur in a way most unpredictable. Yes, she certainly wasn't a fan of Zucceta, but she couldn't let that get in the way of a good decision. But there was something else, something nagging her from the back of her head, and it was telling her both to press the button and not to.
"It is best not to interfere," she decided, moving away from the pedestal as if it were now a pillar of rotten cockroach corpses, "so I will not."
She turned around to face the Empress and her assistant, but found that they were no longer present. Taking their positions was the White Pontiff himself, Egregore. "It was pointless, wasn't it? The button didn't do anything, it was a test."
Egregore's ever-present smile turned with the rest of his face, shifting slightly. "Of course. The only reason I wasn't overseeing the test in person was because I'd rather not lie, I have people do that for me. In this case, Vintr and Fragaria were these people. Would you follow me?"
Wyntre walked through the white wall hallway, through the white door, and followed the Watcher through into a white room with a white floor. In this room Empress Vintr and her Eight could be seen. Intermingling with the group was Winter, the human, who was wearing an white plastic-suit you might expect a superhero to wear: Wyntre could only assume this granted her access to power of some description. There was also the inconveniently-named 'Wyntre', the Saiyan, who was currently looking at everyone as if she wanted to chop their heads off and eat their corpses. Unfortunately, this was expected. In the corner sat Solanale, now without anything you won't find on a saiyan.
"In my Realm, time operates disproportionately in relation to time in yours. You could spend a dozen years in here and less than half a second would have passed out there. Over the next six weeks, you will be taught certain techniques by those before you now. After those gifts, there comes enlightenment. Now, I must depart: I do hope you enjoy your present."
As the Man in White simply disappeared from vision faster than you can say 'trees are sentient, Bing is racist', Wyntre was left alone. Left alone to learn.
[Tulpa Touch technique learnt]
[Telepathy techniques learnt]
[Telekinesis technique learnt]
[Multi-Form techniques learnt]
[Ki Intimidation technique learnt]
To be continued…