Post by Wyntre Cold on Mar 29, 2016 2:04:19 GMT
Last time on Hell Ball Z…
The 'day' had started much like any other of its kind within a wide vicinity of time: with a spar.
The Arcosian Empresses of New and Old exchanged punches like words in an engrossing conversation. Sure, it was a little one-sided (after all, Vintr was fully capable of becoming twice as powerful as Wyntre if she were to activate the new form only a select few knew of), but that was expected when the Ancient Arcosian was, at the very least, five years older than the new one.
Wyntre stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding a job before being kicked away with great force. Correcting her path in mid-air, she used the distance in between the two as an advantage, shooting indigo ki blasts at the Other, which were blocked with ease.
She'd been here for three months. Physically, she was 26 years old but decided to not allow her time here to contribute to her official age. After all, how was she to explain that she died and went into a pocket dimension?
Yes, you've heard correctly. If you hadn't known or assumed before, you certainly know now. If you've been living under a rock for the past (insert number here) (insert time measurement here), Wyntre had been shown many things by a man of white and gold by the name of Egregore. Of course, that was a drastically-synoptic version of what red.
Vintr sent a flurry of kicks to what was likely her descendant, all of them being blocked or dodged. As calm as a fluffed pillow, Wyntre caught her probable ancestor's foot and threw her against the white floor.
"You're holding back. That is not necessary. Lest I remind you that I had defeated opponents more powerful than you before?"
Of course, Wyntre was talking about Chess, but no one needed to know that.
"Very well, but don't expect me to go easy on you."
With an explosion of ki, Vintr released her true power. It was ginormous, yes, but it was clear that there was something more, something hidden. There was more power that wasn't being used. I'm already drastically outmatched as it is. It's two million versus three million and I don't have the best chances. Still, this is a spar and not a battle. I needn't get serious.
The two had a conversation of fists as they exchanged blows. The knowledge that her equivalent had so much more power available annoyed her immensely as she felt something she had never felt before. It wasn't envy, nor jealousy, but the feeling that comes along with the knowledge that she will attain it soon, hopefully before fives from now.
"I recognize that look on your face." she said without much of her old accent, "The unreleased power your scouter picked up on. I'm not suppressing this form's power, but I simply am not using the one beyond…" That was a shock. "Oh yes, that one. The transformation known only in legend. The state that gods are said to have mastered. The legacy of Empresses and Emperors long passed. The Royal Form. It as much mine as it is to be yours. All you need is a push into the deep-end."
Wyntre gave her first smirk in a while and made a little snicker. I've been murdered violently and decapitated alongside my planet. I watched as mindless beasts crushed hospitals and orphanages underfoot. I have watched oh so many horrid things… "I've certainly been pushed into the deep-end, and I died whilst struggling against the waters. If this transformation was obtainable, it would have been obtained."
In a flash of speed, Wyntre tried to even the odds a little by bringing out her mighty sword, the Arcosia, just before it blocked a strike. Wyntre tried to trip Vintr over with her tail, but this was grabbed and powerfully thrown away.
"An intense emotional state is not the only prerequisite. You also require a body that can handle that caliber of power. You are not powerful enough, nor will you be for a long while. Considering when I transformed, you will not reach it for another five years or so."
Wyntre took the damage as she was struck in the stomach, trying to catch her breath before she was struck at the chin. She attempted to strike her opponent, but her strike did little. "But you forget: not only had I unlocked my mastered form sooner than you had, but also that if we were equally aged, I would be more powerful."
Vintr gave a smile and deflected a vicious blow with relative ease, her fist meeting her adversary's shoulder at a nicely-struck angle. "Perhaps, perhaps. But five years is the time you'd take."
Of course, Vintr didn't actually believed it'd take five years or more. For a start, it would help to unlock a transformation if you know it exists. She did not have this advantage. What Wyntre said was also true. So why did she say it would? Simple. To challenge her to prove the prediction incorrect. Knowing her own psychology, Vintr knew that Wyntre knew what Vintr was trying to do anyway.
"That won't work on me, Empress. If great trauma is involved, how did you achieve the transformation?"
Only silence followed.
Well, and a conversation of innumerable blows. "It seems that I am not at liberty to say."
Blades were parried with fingers, fists were parried with tails, tails were blocked with swords and fingers were struck by feet.
"That is no excuse to withhold information from me. Divulge."
Angered, The Empress of Old jumped backward with a ki-infused movement, obviously preparing some sort of attack. She'd need some distance to prepare, of course, a distance that could be lessened considerably with a few fast movements.
"It isn't exactly something I'd love to talk about!"
"I am entirely aware of that. How was it unlocked?"
In Vintr's hands formed a ball of blue ki, slowly growing larger. "KA…" Hang on, that sounds and looks like-"ME…" No, that can't be right, that's Zexama's-"HA…" How could she possibly know the~ what was it called? "ME…" It just doesn't make sense!"
"HA!"
The problem with Zexama's technique, of course, was that you could simply step to the side and avoid it entirely. So, of course, this was what she did. "Who taught you that technique?"
Vintr looked down with a sad smile, clearly remembering something.
"A friend. A deceased friend. A deceased friend whose death allowed me to ascend."
And no more questions were asked.
"Your gift continues."
Egregore and Wyntre were in a room. Just like every other room in this dimension, it was very white and hadn't anything in it but the two of them and white.
"Let me guess: visions of entities much like myself? Meeting beings from the past, or future, with a similar name and an identical appearance? Hypotheticals? It's getting old."
The tall fellow of golden white and white gold continued smiling as his face rotated ever so slightly. "I understand why you might think so. No, you will not meet others like yourself. You will… I'll let you find out on your own. Farewell, Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose."
A single horizontal line of light marked all that she could see as she was pulled from reality and violently placed back.
All was a blur and nothing was not. In her haze, she could barely make out the muffled sounds of serious chatter happening directly in front of her. Barely recognizing that she was on the floor, she found her footing and shook her head fiercely, trying to get a better grip on reality as her numbness slowly faded away.
In front of her, she saw the most noticeable of the figures. He was ginormous! He made all of the surrounding entities, herself included, seem like rodents in comparison. The room, made to fit him, would have been unnecessarily expansive for anyone else. Four meters tall, it became clear that he was an Arcosian in his True Form. Such height… how tall would he be if he were to revert to his Brute Form? His skin was white and smooth, yet tough and hardened by experience in battle. His biogems were a polished purple color. He wore elegantly-armored clothing you might have expected on a highly-commended general. Along this skin were innumerable scars, earned in battle, and a large, cultural tattoo going all over his right arm. Wyntre didn't think about that in detail, however, she was far too shocked. This was the famed Emperor Vetur.
Father?
Next to him was another figure who seemed small in comparison but was still absurdly tall. More than half the size of her husband, standing three meters tall, was the beautiful brenchian, Empress Consort Aisama.
Wyntre never knew her biological mother. Her mother and father were forced to marry at an early age and had been quite unhappy together, leading to Emperor Vetur getting a mistress from the Brenchian royal families. Her mother was a mystery, however. She was given pictures, pictures she believed were her own. Wyntre's mother died in childbirth, or at least that was what everyone was told. All that was known was that he married Aisama within the year. Many speculated that the consort (or even the Emperor) had caused her death, but no one had any proof.
She was tall, as already stated. She had to be, to catch Vetur's picky eyes and heart. She was bound with muscles, rudeness and a warrior's aura which earned her the title 'Amazon Red'. Fitting, really, considering her skin color. Her white hair, in all of its lengthy valor, gently glided against the floor as she walked.
The last two figures she didn't recognize, but that was easily explained. From the looks of their posture and uniforms, it was clear that they were doctors.
There was a final being in the room, one she did not at first notice. Atop its cushioned podium, hiding from the world behind glass, was a sleeping baby by the name of Wyntre Cold.
"Doctor Agaricus, Doctor Bisporus. Could we have a few minutes privacy?"
"Of course, sir." came the immediate response, the doctors leaving the vicinity within moments. That left only the Emperor, the Empress, Wyntre and… Wyntre. Her father walked up to the child and picked her up, getting a good look at her sleeping face.
"Was it quite necessary to name her after yourself?" Ah, yes, that. Vetur was the masculine form of Vintr, and Wyntre was derived from Vintr. She was named after her father. "In hindsight, it wasn't the best name. Are… are you definite about this?"
Only a nod followed.
He gave a reluctant sigh.
"Very well. She'll be dead before tomorrow."
Wyntre awoke with a jump of energy, her Father's words echoing in her mind.
Egregore simply watched, mildly amused, as the deceased Empress tried to piece together what had happened. "That didn't actually happen, did it?"
"It did. If you're wondering why your Father didn't kill you like he said he would, relax in knowing that he couldn't bare doing such a thing. He sent you to an artificial planet that didn't officially exist so that you could learn and grow in secret."
A wave of understanding washed over the Empress. It was amazing how much your understanding of your own life could be wrong. It, too, was amazing how little learning this could affect you.
"Why did Aisama want me dead?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon. Very soon. But first, something else. Farewell."
More used to the experience, the daze stopped quickly.
She was in a room, a room she recognized. It was grand and ornate and glistened with beautiful reflected lights, forming images of dancing rainbows on the floor, all formed through a collection of oddly-shaped crystals.
She could clearly see her giant of a father and his second wife dining together, alone. Their eating habits were nearly as bad as that of a saiyan.
Emperor Vetur looked as if he felt as if a volcano was imploding in his innards. His weighty hand went to his chest in pain and he grasped for air. Today… today, he was to die.
"Don't bother fighting it. Your wine has been tainted with the blood of an Sectinian Hive Queen. Not only have you been paralyzed, but you will die momentarily. And then? Then I will rule the Galaxy."
Oh. Of course.
Yes, of course. Aisama was in it to rule the galaxy. Hasn't this exact same thing happened so many times prior? Has no one learned from history? Yes, but that was beside the point. Her father was dying before her eyes, but she couldn't effect the outcome, that much was obvious.
She couldn't change the past. If she could, her future wouldn't be her own. Any science fiction enthusiast could tell you that.
Or, in other words, she was being forced to watch her father die in front of her, his murderer continuing her meal.
But it wasn't that simple.
"Heh… heh… heh… I suppose they were right about you…" he weakly muttered, referring to the great opposition he faced when he tried to marry a mere Brenchian noble. "…'She'll just stab you in the back when you… when you're not expecting it'…"
Empress Aisama took a sip of her wine thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should have listened to them. I could never be trusted. Gelid was in on it too. Shame he has to die."
Father laughed grimly but was interrupted by a sudden shortness of breath. "I shouldn't be surprised… he always wanted me dead. But there's just one more thing I need to do before I flee from life."
The red-skinned warrior cocked her head as her curiosity was piqued. "Oh? And what is that?"
As much as it hurt and as much as it killed him, a Great Ruler rose. "Is it not obvious?" he started, overshadowing his wife with his immense height. And boy was he pissed. "I'm going to make you wish we never met."
Great violence followed.
Wyntre stared at the ceiling, not quite knowing what to think. So many questions had to be asked.
She didn't know what to think of it. She'd watched her Father and his wife die in front of her eyes. She watched them betray each other, trick each other and murder each other. She'd learnt of her plots, her schemes. She'd learnt of his ignorance.
"I believe most people would be angry from seeing that, with some sadness nestled in too."
The Empress looked at the man before her, not bothering to get up. "I'm not most people if you hadn't noticed. I'm me."
Egregore chuckled lightly but stopped abruptly. "They both died that day. The authorities called it a murder-suicide, even though they couldn't determine the Emperor's cause of death. The poison was untraceable. Of course, you already knew that. They both went to hell, as one would expect. They were given their bodies by a powerful demon called Ziminiar and became his servants."
She nodded. This was to be expected. After all, they were quite powerful: Emperor Vetur was nearly three million strong and his wife was a hundredth of one. Their positions made them valuable for demons looking for servants. The only curiosity about it was how this 'Ziminiar' would get them to stop trying to murder each other.
"How did Aisama convince my father to almost kill me?"
Egregore pondered this momentarily, a finger to his chin. "I think it would be best to show and not tell. Good night."
This was starting to get predictable.
Wyntre woke in a hurry, trying to find out where (and when) she was, only to fail. Well, she knew a few important things about her location.
For a start, she was in space. Which part she could not tell: the star's were still fuzzy-looking and her scouter still insisted that she was in hell. When she was was quite difficult, too. She didn't have the time at hand to analyze the stars or how many of them have exploded and her scouter was being quite confused.
She turned about and saw two familiar frames. Three and four meters tall stood an Emperor and a soon-to-be Empress in a space-suit, having what appeared to be a serious discussion as her Scouter finally figured out where (and when) they were: in the middle of nowhere, before Wyntre's birth and, therefore, her mother's demise.
"Are you sure that they are correct?" softly boomed Vetur's harshly considerate voice, startling the cerise Brenchian. "Of course, Lord Vetur. They've never been wrong."
"But they could be now, I don't want to take that risk!"
"My lordship, they are never wrong!"
Emperor Vetur's rage could barely be contained. He visibly seethed out molten rage in the form of liquid ki. "Do you know what you ask of me, wretch? I don't care what your oracles say about the third child of my wife, I don't care what you say about the oracles, and I most certainly do not-" "But do you want to risk it?"
Vetur grabbed hold of Aisama's neck through the spacesuit and slapped her, greatly shocking the Brenchian. "You insolent fool. You dare interrupt me, me? I am your King. I am your Emperor. I am your God. Bow."
And so she did.
Expectations were defied. Instead of returning to the… whatever it was, she went straight to another… somewhere.
Her scouter was quite used to being quite confused on its journeys. Even though it had some odd tendencies, it could always sometimes maybe half of the time always predict where they were without any logical explanation as to how they got there. And their location?
Planet Furnas.
Much like Kanassa, it had been known as a planet of oracles, fortune tellers, mysticism and predictions. Much unlike Kanassa, however, it's predictions were never wrong (the accuracy Kanassa's predictions vary greatly depending on the teller of the story) and were much harder to attain. None of that was quite true, of course, the last real mystic on Furnas was publicly executed hundreds of years ago for having powers that could potentially come to harm the Empire. So she was on a planet of fakes, tricksters, cons and wannabe-oracles. But where was she specifically?
It was a temple, ornately-crafted and tall. It was silken and smothered in comfortingly-odd warm colors. In the middle of the unnecessarily-brobdingnagian room was Aisama (or, at least, it was assumed to be because of her height) dressed in a robe too big for even her.
A few meters from the brenchian were two elderly furnasians. The female moved her hands around a column, supposedly enchanting it, as the male analyzed furnasian beans rotate and move atop the column, supposedly trying to gather some meaning from their magnetically-induced movements.
The furnasians were an odd species. If legend was to be believed, only a few hundred years ago they lost their otherworldly precognition, but only a select few would know this until Wyntre was four years old when a stupidly-brave journalist uncovered and broadcast the secrets. He was found dead not long after.
Furnasians were similar to humans, in terms of appearance. They were about half as high (making Aisama seem even larger) as one, always appeared old, didn't have hair and often had mole-like facial structures. Oh, and their eyes: they gave the impression that the species was blind, whereas they were not.
"Hmm… intriguing… No, the image is blurry. Perhaps if the spirits were to help a little-" Money changed hands. "Yes, yes. I see… I see…-"
"Plemun, Dempar. You are dismissed." ordered a furnasian with an authoritative mien. "I will take care of this."
Aisama barely noticed her currency being taken away by the two leaving aliens. Even if she did, she wouldn't care. It was only a million. She was focused, rather, on the entering oracle, a member of the planet's council and unofficial leader of the planet. Caminus wore complexly-feathered clothing and, for some reason or another, was bound to a levitating chair.
"Caminus."
"Aisama."
The two looked at each other with a pregnant pause. "I have much to tell you, friend. Much of what I have to say you know of, so I will start with what you don't know."
Aisama's facial expression changed a little: she wasn't comfortable with the thought of there beings things she didn't know. It seemed unnatural and wrong. But she put these feelings aside for an important event such as this. "Firstly, it has been seen that you will marry Vetur and become Empress," started the furnasian causing Aisama to seem less stressed, "It has also been seen that you will kill him when you're both enjoying a nice meal."Well, it isn't wrong. "However… most importantly of all, it seems, is the matter of your husband's~ eh, future-husband's children. There is a third one on the way. It will be a cursed child, an evil child. It will kill its mother. Its birth will start the end times."
Huh.
Arguably, a lot of that was true. Wyntre had done some evil acts, yes: she once jaywalked across an ant's road of which she hadn't noticed. She's murdered billions of innocent bacteria for the sake of cleanliness and hygiene. She once robbed a candy store. I know, abhorrent acts. Not only that, but she had seemed to have killed her mother… by being born. On top of that, she had arguably caused Arcose's invasion.
Oh heck, I had arguably caused Arcose's invasion.
A dead planet with a dead tree on it counts as a part of the 'end-times', right? "… And your recommendation?"
There was a silence.
This silence grew silent.
Silence was kicked out for not being silent enough.
The act of kicking silence out wasn't silent enough.
The kicker was shown the door with discreet hand movements.
And it grew quieter.
Much, much quieter.
But then it stopped.
"Use your imagination. Although, of course, no matter what you do, you will not succeed. Our visitor is proof of that."
The Empress had a finger to her chin, thinking and formulating. Furnas was known to be a planet of frauds, fakes and tricksters. Caminus probably would have benefitted from her death and decided to help bring it about.
But then again…
The Furnasian's words jumped about in her head. 'Our visitor is proof of that'. He was almost definitely referring to her, but that couldn't have been the case. After all, she was just peeking in on events that had once been. She couldn't have played much of a part, she was just watcing! She couldn't have affected the time her father decided that she was to die, she couldn't have affected the time Aisama was told to eliminate the threat, she couldn't have affected the outcome of her murder. She couldn't affect much at all these days and it was infuriating! Her scope of influence ended at where line of sight did and it was maddening! And now, figments of the past know what shouldn't have been known?
To be fair, Wyntre's version of being furious merely involved overtly-serious death-stares.
"Don't be so surprised. Otherworldly contact is a part of her job, after all."
"This isn't quite the Other World, though, is it? You're probably around the same level of power that Beelzebub inhabits. You could have probably stopped that without much effort at all! You let that happen, why?"
"No reason. No reason at all. Let me leave you with this perhaps irrelevant thought, though: you did not know your own story before death. Even now, much of your own history is unknown to you. This is not because I have not shown you, you see, it is rather because you hadn't made it yet. Death isn't the end of the line, it's the stuff you're doing when you're not enduring that menial 'life' thing. Your time here is nearly at a close, congratulations. Enjoy your final night here."
Wyntre had much to think about. She wasn't entirely sure what most of it was, though, but she was sure that there was a lot of it.
One of the main arguments playing out in her mind was the whole Furnas ordeal. It was so… frustrating. What if she indeed was cursed? What if Arcose's invasion and subsequently Zucceta's power gain was all her fault? No, no. She was the strongest living Arcosian! Probably! She had the best chances of defending the planet, so it was more of an inevitable defeat, so…
So the saiyan's victory was inevitable? It was almost as if the gods themselves wanted the universe's inhabitants as stupid as they could be so they gave power to the least mentally capable. It was almost as if the universe was an omnipotent toddler's sand pit, said toddler's only desire being to let the 'baddies' win. She'd have to retire for the night, she had a bad feeling about tomorrow.
She was right to have a bad feeling. 'Tomorrow' was a time most 'bad'.
First, it started with the lack of Egregore's presence, obviously a result of the lack of Egregore. Then, the sudden reappearance of Egregore was a tad startling. But that wasn't all that much of a problem, one thought overclouded all others:
Today an Empress will return.
It was a ridiculously-simple process. There was a door, just a door, that she would walk through. That was it. On the other side was life, great opportunities. On the other side was the universe, along with its hopes and despairs. On the other side was Zexama, as well as Zucceta. On the other side was her corpse.
Behind her was the pleasant entity, Egregore. Despite his ever-present light grin, she could tell that there was something worrying him. It felt almost as if her revival was being rushed so he could do something else, something more important.
Behind him was Vintr and her assortment of folks, as well as Solanale who looked like he didn't know what to feel. This was it. This was the end of her end and the beginning of her beginning. This was her revival.
It didn't feel like it, though. It felt like any other time. It didn't feel important enough. It wasn't right. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
She put her hand to the tin doorknob. Cold. With a slow yet sudden movement, the white, wooden door opened seamlessly, revealing what was on the other side: the eventful nothingness. White, as far as the mind could comprehend. This was it.
She looked back to the acquaintances she's made along the way. Egregore, Vintr, Fragaria, the Ancient Elites, Solanale. She remembered the versions of herself she's met, she remembered how much she could have been different from a few minute factors. She remembered that this was it. The culmination of her death will be her life.
She remembered her meeting with Koramund, she remembered her meeting with Taiga, she remembered her meeting with Walker, she remembered her tutelage under Beelzebub. She remembered the Adincharans, the Sectinians, Doctor Axis. She remembered Paimon. She remembered Picante, the Captain. She remembered King Yemma. She remembered being murdered, her very blood empowering a tree whose fruit granted those who ate it insane power. She remembered Zucceta. She remembered Aksor. She remembered Zexama.
This. Was. It.
So she stepped through the door and closed it again from the other side. I lived a life. I died a death. And now I'm back again.
Some claim that the universe cannot be understood by mere mortals. They say that it is unknowable, unthinkable, infinitely-advanced. It turns out, in actuality, that the universe is just as finite as everything else. It's as simple as everyone else. It's as imperfect, as bland, as uninteresting as anything else could be, and we simply cannot comprehend its scale, its utter complexity, as we are insignificant idiots: monkeys with hats who claim to have an understanding of themselves and, in the process of saying so, make embarrassments of themselves all over reality's handkerchief.
Wyntre knew this. She had an understanding of how little reality gives a damn about itself, how matter itself works and, for a few brief moments, saw before her eyes the reason for her existence. She saw reality as it really was…
But not for long. The darkness found her and enveloped her like a blanket after a long day. What was this, she asked herself? The shadows soon answered: this was it. Wyntre woke up in a rush. It felt like reality kneed her in the gut.
She found herself pushed against the floor, the fuzzy ground resembling layers and layers of black cloth stacked atop of each other, but it felt more like tin. Cold. She tried to get up, but couldn't as she was being held down by an unknown force. She had the strangest feeling that she wasn't quite alive yet.
"Peculiar."
"Thank you."
She felt a sudden kick, sending her meters to the side. It wasn't particularly painful, but it probably wasn't meant to be, either. "Egregore decided to help you. Why? You're just some meat with some skin on it. He has no reason to help you, so why did he?"
"Vortigern, is it? I couldn't answer your question, neither can I, neither should I. I've asked him myself, to no avail. Why have you brought me here?"
Getting to her feet, Wyntre didn't bother to get into a fighting position. The way he spoke about Egregore implied that they were of a similar power; if he wanted to kill her, she'd probably be dead by now. "Don't question me, answer me instead!"
"I'd much rather not."
That comment seemingly earned her a slap. Rude. So, in return, Wyntre slapped the deity back, greatly shocking him. It didn't hurt him, of course, he probably didn't even feel it, but he became enraged by the thought that someone would dare slap him. "You dare slap your superior?"
A rare smirk covered her face, the first one to do so in quite a while. She felt alive already. "No, I do not dare slap my superior. I do not dare slap anyone, actually, as I do not dare. Dares are for children who don't know any better. I am not a child if you hadn't noticed, and I most certainly know better. Even if I were a child who didn't know any better, which I am not, then I would not slap my superior simply be because I don't have one. You may be, in effect, a god. You may be a deity. Perhaps actuality itself is your play thing. Perhaps you could create dimensions by thinking and perhaps you could obliterate everyone I've ever known with a thought," she started, not actually knowing if any of those things were true, "But I am Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose, and I am your superior!"
This earned a chuckle. Of course, Wyntre did not expect Vortigern to bow down and worship her, as that would have been the right thing to do. What she was expecting him to do was much more simple: he'd humor her. He'd carry along with the joke for his own amusement and it will be his downfall. You see, Wyntre was stalling. Stalling until help arrived.
"I sent a lackey after you, I believe I named him Nightshade. You only survived because of Egregore's intervention. You are not superior."
She stood tall, confident. I will not be stood down by a mere god. "His name is Solanale. You'd have known that too if you had enough mental power to be able to ask him. You are intellectually inferior."
This angered the entity, but he kept his cool. "Why did Egregore help you?" Wyntre simply shrugged her shoulders, intense pain suddenly rushing to her head. "Answer me!"
Wyntre made a pained laugh. "I'd… much… rather… not…" This was it.
So she stood up and looked him in the eye. Her fists ready, she yelled out the following words: "MAKAIOKEN TIMES FOUR!"
"Makaio-what?" He could barely utter his words before fists slammed into his face, shocking him greatly. "You… You fool! How dare you strike me! You will die for this, you insolent little earthworm!"
Of course, the attack didn't hurt anything with the strict exception of his pride. The only way for Vortigern to ameliorate the wound to his pride would have been to destroy Wyntre and her soul as well as any evidence of this happening. Not surprisingly, this was exactly what he planned on doing.
The white door and its frame appeared, its opening knocking over Vortigern who was directly in front of it. They took their time. Out stepped Egregore, followed by Vintr, the other Wyntre and Winter. You could have audibly heard the foe's snarl.
"Fine, fine, my honor's taken enough of a beating as it is. Farewell, brother. You'll see me when you pick another flock of mortals to play with."
"Farewell."
Wyntre, once again, found herself before a door. The same door. This was it. I lived a life. I died a death. And now I'm back again.
She placed her hand on the warm tin doorknob, peeking through the sliver of the barely-open door. She didn't bother looking back, she knew they were there. She opened it and saw what she expected to see: white as far as the mind could comprehend.
And she walked straight passed it.
Meanwhile, on Vegeta, a whole lot of morally-questionable events were taking place.
On the throne of their Queen was impaled a skull, one clearly Arcosian in… design. It looked over the court, the people of the planet, the very planet itself, with dead eyes. But now? Well, now… This was it.
It started to fade, startling a passing saiyan. He didn't know what it meant, but the skull did. It always knows. It always knew. It always will know.
And now it simply faded, singing its silent song.
Eyes that shouldn't have opened, opened. Blood that shouldn't have flowed, flowed. Eyes that shouldn't have saw, saw. Minds that shouldn't have thought, thought.
She had died, but now she's back. It's simple, really. Alive, then dead, then alive.
She was 'six feet under', even when she was only two or feet three under. The ice surrounded her, keeping her safe from the lack of atmosphere found above. Not for long, though. She managed to turn in the little room she had, only to see her own skeleton. Its head was missing, of course, but it still seemed to be looking at her. Mocking her. Judging her actions like a hawk, only instead of a hawk, it was what used to be her. She made her way up.
This was a new life.
This was it.
The 'day' had started much like any other of its kind within a wide vicinity of time: with a spar.
The Arcosian Empresses of New and Old exchanged punches like words in an engrossing conversation. Sure, it was a little one-sided (after all, Vintr was fully capable of becoming twice as powerful as Wyntre if she were to activate the new form only a select few knew of), but that was expected when the Ancient Arcosian was, at the very least, five years older than the new one.
Wyntre stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding a job before being kicked away with great force. Correcting her path in mid-air, she used the distance in between the two as an advantage, shooting indigo ki blasts at the Other, which were blocked with ease.
She'd been here for three months. Physically, she was 26 years old but decided to not allow her time here to contribute to her official age. After all, how was she to explain that she died and went into a pocket dimension?
Yes, you've heard correctly. If you hadn't known or assumed before, you certainly know now. If you've been living under a rock for the past (insert number here) (insert time measurement here), Wyntre had been shown many things by a man of white and gold by the name of Egregore. Of course, that was a drastically-synoptic version of what red.
Vintr sent a flurry of kicks to what was likely her descendant, all of them being blocked or dodged. As calm as a fluffed pillow, Wyntre caught her probable ancestor's foot and threw her against the white floor.
"You're holding back. That is not necessary. Lest I remind you that I had defeated opponents more powerful than you before?"
Of course, Wyntre was talking about Chess, but no one needed to know that.
"Very well, but don't expect me to go easy on you."
With an explosion of ki, Vintr released her true power. It was ginormous, yes, but it was clear that there was something more, something hidden. There was more power that wasn't being used. I'm already drastically outmatched as it is. It's two million versus three million and I don't have the best chances. Still, this is a spar and not a battle. I needn't get serious.
The two had a conversation of fists as they exchanged blows. The knowledge that her equivalent had so much more power available annoyed her immensely as she felt something she had never felt before. It wasn't envy, nor jealousy, but the feeling that comes along with the knowledge that she will attain it soon, hopefully before fives from now.
"I recognize that look on your face." she said without much of her old accent, "The unreleased power your scouter picked up on. I'm not suppressing this form's power, but I simply am not using the one beyond…" That was a shock. "Oh yes, that one. The transformation known only in legend. The state that gods are said to have mastered. The legacy of Empresses and Emperors long passed. The Royal Form. It as much mine as it is to be yours. All you need is a push into the deep-end."
Wyntre gave her first smirk in a while and made a little snicker. I've been murdered violently and decapitated alongside my planet. I watched as mindless beasts crushed hospitals and orphanages underfoot. I have watched oh so many horrid things… "I've certainly been pushed into the deep-end, and I died whilst struggling against the waters. If this transformation was obtainable, it would have been obtained."
In a flash of speed, Wyntre tried to even the odds a little by bringing out her mighty sword, the Arcosia, just before it blocked a strike. Wyntre tried to trip Vintr over with her tail, but this was grabbed and powerfully thrown away.
"An intense emotional state is not the only prerequisite. You also require a body that can handle that caliber of power. You are not powerful enough, nor will you be for a long while. Considering when I transformed, you will not reach it for another five years or so."
Wyntre took the damage as she was struck in the stomach, trying to catch her breath before she was struck at the chin. She attempted to strike her opponent, but her strike did little. "But you forget: not only had I unlocked my mastered form sooner than you had, but also that if we were equally aged, I would be more powerful."
Vintr gave a smile and deflected a vicious blow with relative ease, her fist meeting her adversary's shoulder at a nicely-struck angle. "Perhaps, perhaps. But five years is the time you'd take."
Of course, Vintr didn't actually believed it'd take five years or more. For a start, it would help to unlock a transformation if you know it exists. She did not have this advantage. What Wyntre said was also true. So why did she say it would? Simple. To challenge her to prove the prediction incorrect. Knowing her own psychology, Vintr knew that Wyntre knew what Vintr was trying to do anyway.
"That won't work on me, Empress. If great trauma is involved, how did you achieve the transformation?"
Only silence followed.
Well, and a conversation of innumerable blows. "It seems that I am not at liberty to say."
Blades were parried with fingers, fists were parried with tails, tails were blocked with swords and fingers were struck by feet.
"That is no excuse to withhold information from me. Divulge."
Angered, The Empress of Old jumped backward with a ki-infused movement, obviously preparing some sort of attack. She'd need some distance to prepare, of course, a distance that could be lessened considerably with a few fast movements.
"It isn't exactly something I'd love to talk about!"
"I am entirely aware of that. How was it unlocked?"
In Vintr's hands formed a ball of blue ki, slowly growing larger. "KA…" Hang on, that sounds and looks like-"ME…" No, that can't be right, that's Zexama's-"HA…" How could she possibly know the~ what was it called? "ME…" It just doesn't make sense!"
"HA!"
The problem with Zexama's technique, of course, was that you could simply step to the side and avoid it entirely. So, of course, this was what she did. "Who taught you that technique?"
Vintr looked down with a sad smile, clearly remembering something.
"A friend. A deceased friend. A deceased friend whose death allowed me to ascend."
And no more questions were asked.
"Your gift continues."
Egregore and Wyntre were in a room. Just like every other room in this dimension, it was very white and hadn't anything in it but the two of them and white.
"Let me guess: visions of entities much like myself? Meeting beings from the past, or future, with a similar name and an identical appearance? Hypotheticals? It's getting old."
The tall fellow of golden white and white gold continued smiling as his face rotated ever so slightly. "I understand why you might think so. No, you will not meet others like yourself. You will… I'll let you find out on your own. Farewell, Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose."
A single horizontal line of light marked all that she could see as she was pulled from reality and violently placed back.
All was a blur and nothing was not. In her haze, she could barely make out the muffled sounds of serious chatter happening directly in front of her. Barely recognizing that she was on the floor, she found her footing and shook her head fiercely, trying to get a better grip on reality as her numbness slowly faded away.
In front of her, she saw the most noticeable of the figures. He was ginormous! He made all of the surrounding entities, herself included, seem like rodents in comparison. The room, made to fit him, would have been unnecessarily expansive for anyone else. Four meters tall, it became clear that he was an Arcosian in his True Form. Such height… how tall would he be if he were to revert to his Brute Form? His skin was white and smooth, yet tough and hardened by experience in battle. His biogems were a polished purple color. He wore elegantly-armored clothing you might have expected on a highly-commended general. Along this skin were innumerable scars, earned in battle, and a large, cultural tattoo going all over his right arm. Wyntre didn't think about that in detail, however, she was far too shocked. This was the famed Emperor Vetur.
Father?
Next to him was another figure who seemed small in comparison but was still absurdly tall. More than half the size of her husband, standing three meters tall, was the beautiful brenchian, Empress Consort Aisama.
Wyntre never knew her biological mother. Her mother and father were forced to marry at an early age and had been quite unhappy together, leading to Emperor Vetur getting a mistress from the Brenchian royal families. Her mother was a mystery, however. She was given pictures, pictures she believed were her own. Wyntre's mother died in childbirth, or at least that was what everyone was told. All that was known was that he married Aisama within the year. Many speculated that the consort (or even the Emperor) had caused her death, but no one had any proof.
She was tall, as already stated. She had to be, to catch Vetur's picky eyes and heart. She was bound with muscles, rudeness and a warrior's aura which earned her the title 'Amazon Red'. Fitting, really, considering her skin color. Her white hair, in all of its lengthy valor, gently glided against the floor as she walked.
The last two figures she didn't recognize, but that was easily explained. From the looks of their posture and uniforms, it was clear that they were doctors.
There was a final being in the room, one she did not at first notice. Atop its cushioned podium, hiding from the world behind glass, was a sleeping baby by the name of Wyntre Cold.
"Doctor Agaricus, Doctor Bisporus. Could we have a few minutes privacy?"
"Of course, sir." came the immediate response, the doctors leaving the vicinity within moments. That left only the Emperor, the Empress, Wyntre and… Wyntre. Her father walked up to the child and picked her up, getting a good look at her sleeping face.
"Was it quite necessary to name her after yourself?" Ah, yes, that. Vetur was the masculine form of Vintr, and Wyntre was derived from Vintr. She was named after her father. "In hindsight, it wasn't the best name. Are… are you definite about this?"
Only a nod followed.
He gave a reluctant sigh.
"Very well. She'll be dead before tomorrow."
Wyntre awoke with a jump of energy, her Father's words echoing in her mind.
Egregore simply watched, mildly amused, as the deceased Empress tried to piece together what had happened. "That didn't actually happen, did it?"
"It did. If you're wondering why your Father didn't kill you like he said he would, relax in knowing that he couldn't bare doing such a thing. He sent you to an artificial planet that didn't officially exist so that you could learn and grow in secret."
A wave of understanding washed over the Empress. It was amazing how much your understanding of your own life could be wrong. It, too, was amazing how little learning this could affect you.
"Why did Aisama want me dead?"
"Oh, you'll find out soon. Very soon. But first, something else. Farewell."
More used to the experience, the daze stopped quickly.
She was in a room, a room she recognized. It was grand and ornate and glistened with beautiful reflected lights, forming images of dancing rainbows on the floor, all formed through a collection of oddly-shaped crystals.
She could clearly see her giant of a father and his second wife dining together, alone. Their eating habits were nearly as bad as that of a saiyan.
Emperor Vetur looked as if he felt as if a volcano was imploding in his innards. His weighty hand went to his chest in pain and he grasped for air. Today… today, he was to die.
"Don't bother fighting it. Your wine has been tainted with the blood of an Sectinian Hive Queen. Not only have you been paralyzed, but you will die momentarily. And then? Then I will rule the Galaxy."
Oh. Of course.
Yes, of course. Aisama was in it to rule the galaxy. Hasn't this exact same thing happened so many times prior? Has no one learned from history? Yes, but that was beside the point. Her father was dying before her eyes, but she couldn't effect the outcome, that much was obvious.
She couldn't change the past. If she could, her future wouldn't be her own. Any science fiction enthusiast could tell you that.
Or, in other words, she was being forced to watch her father die in front of her, his murderer continuing her meal.
But it wasn't that simple.
"Heh… heh… heh… I suppose they were right about you…" he weakly muttered, referring to the great opposition he faced when he tried to marry a mere Brenchian noble. "…'She'll just stab you in the back when you… when you're not expecting it'…"
Empress Aisama took a sip of her wine thoughtfully. "Perhaps you should have listened to them. I could never be trusted. Gelid was in on it too. Shame he has to die."
Father laughed grimly but was interrupted by a sudden shortness of breath. "I shouldn't be surprised… he always wanted me dead. But there's just one more thing I need to do before I flee from life."
The red-skinned warrior cocked her head as her curiosity was piqued. "Oh? And what is that?"
As much as it hurt and as much as it killed him, a Great Ruler rose. "Is it not obvious?" he started, overshadowing his wife with his immense height. And boy was he pissed. "I'm going to make you wish we never met."
Great violence followed.
Wyntre stared at the ceiling, not quite knowing what to think. So many questions had to be asked.
She didn't know what to think of it. She'd watched her Father and his wife die in front of her eyes. She watched them betray each other, trick each other and murder each other. She'd learnt of her plots, her schemes. She'd learnt of his ignorance.
"I believe most people would be angry from seeing that, with some sadness nestled in too."
The Empress looked at the man before her, not bothering to get up. "I'm not most people if you hadn't noticed. I'm me."
Egregore chuckled lightly but stopped abruptly. "They both died that day. The authorities called it a murder-suicide, even though they couldn't determine the Emperor's cause of death. The poison was untraceable. Of course, you already knew that. They both went to hell, as one would expect. They were given their bodies by a powerful demon called Ziminiar and became his servants."
She nodded. This was to be expected. After all, they were quite powerful: Emperor Vetur was nearly three million strong and his wife was a hundredth of one. Their positions made them valuable for demons looking for servants. The only curiosity about it was how this 'Ziminiar' would get them to stop trying to murder each other.
"How did Aisama convince my father to almost kill me?"
Egregore pondered this momentarily, a finger to his chin. "I think it would be best to show and not tell. Good night."
This was starting to get predictable.
Wyntre woke in a hurry, trying to find out where (and when) she was, only to fail. Well, she knew a few important things about her location.
For a start, she was in space. Which part she could not tell: the star's were still fuzzy-looking and her scouter still insisted that she was in hell. When she was was quite difficult, too. She didn't have the time at hand to analyze the stars or how many of them have exploded and her scouter was being quite confused.
She turned about and saw two familiar frames. Three and four meters tall stood an Emperor and a soon-to-be Empress in a space-suit, having what appeared to be a serious discussion as her Scouter finally figured out where (and when) they were: in the middle of nowhere, before Wyntre's birth and, therefore, her mother's demise.
"Are you sure that they are correct?" softly boomed Vetur's harshly considerate voice, startling the cerise Brenchian. "Of course, Lord Vetur. They've never been wrong."
"But they could be now, I don't want to take that risk!"
"My lordship, they are never wrong!"
Emperor Vetur's rage could barely be contained. He visibly seethed out molten rage in the form of liquid ki. "Do you know what you ask of me, wretch? I don't care what your oracles say about the third child of my wife, I don't care what you say about the oracles, and I most certainly do not-" "But do you want to risk it?"
Vetur grabbed hold of Aisama's neck through the spacesuit and slapped her, greatly shocking the Brenchian. "You insolent fool. You dare interrupt me, me? I am your King. I am your Emperor. I am your God. Bow."
And so she did.
Expectations were defied. Instead of returning to the… whatever it was, she went straight to another… somewhere.
Her scouter was quite used to being quite confused on its journeys. Even though it had some odd tendencies, it could always sometimes maybe half of the time always predict where they were without any logical explanation as to how they got there. And their location?
Planet Furnas.
Much like Kanassa, it had been known as a planet of oracles, fortune tellers, mysticism and predictions. Much unlike Kanassa, however, it's predictions were never wrong (the accuracy Kanassa's predictions vary greatly depending on the teller of the story) and were much harder to attain. None of that was quite true, of course, the last real mystic on Furnas was publicly executed hundreds of years ago for having powers that could potentially come to harm the Empire. So she was on a planet of fakes, tricksters, cons and wannabe-oracles. But where was she specifically?
It was a temple, ornately-crafted and tall. It was silken and smothered in comfortingly-odd warm colors. In the middle of the unnecessarily-brobdingnagian room was Aisama (or, at least, it was assumed to be because of her height) dressed in a robe too big for even her.
A few meters from the brenchian were two elderly furnasians. The female moved her hands around a column, supposedly enchanting it, as the male analyzed furnasian beans rotate and move atop the column, supposedly trying to gather some meaning from their magnetically-induced movements.
The furnasians were an odd species. If legend was to be believed, only a few hundred years ago they lost their otherworldly precognition, but only a select few would know this until Wyntre was four years old when a stupidly-brave journalist uncovered and broadcast the secrets. He was found dead not long after.
Furnasians were similar to humans, in terms of appearance. They were about half as high (making Aisama seem even larger) as one, always appeared old, didn't have hair and often had mole-like facial structures. Oh, and their eyes: they gave the impression that the species was blind, whereas they were not.
"Hmm… intriguing… No, the image is blurry. Perhaps if the spirits were to help a little-" Money changed hands. "Yes, yes. I see… I see…-"
"Plemun, Dempar. You are dismissed." ordered a furnasian with an authoritative mien. "I will take care of this."
Aisama barely noticed her currency being taken away by the two leaving aliens. Even if she did, she wouldn't care. It was only a million. She was focused, rather, on the entering oracle, a member of the planet's council and unofficial leader of the planet. Caminus wore complexly-feathered clothing and, for some reason or another, was bound to a levitating chair.
"Caminus."
"Aisama."
The two looked at each other with a pregnant pause. "I have much to tell you, friend. Much of what I have to say you know of, so I will start with what you don't know."
Aisama's facial expression changed a little: she wasn't comfortable with the thought of there beings things she didn't know. It seemed unnatural and wrong. But she put these feelings aside for an important event such as this. "Firstly, it has been seen that you will marry Vetur and become Empress," started the furnasian causing Aisama to seem less stressed, "It has also been seen that you will kill him when you're both enjoying a nice meal."Well, it isn't wrong. "However… most importantly of all, it seems, is the matter of your husband's~ eh, future-husband's children. There is a third one on the way. It will be a cursed child, an evil child. It will kill its mother. Its birth will start the end times."
Huh.
Arguably, a lot of that was true. Wyntre had done some evil acts, yes: she once jaywalked across an ant's road of which she hadn't noticed. She's murdered billions of innocent bacteria for the sake of cleanliness and hygiene. She once robbed a candy store. I know, abhorrent acts. Not only that, but she had seemed to have killed her mother… by being born. On top of that, she had arguably caused Arcose's invasion.
Oh heck, I had arguably caused Arcose's invasion.
A dead planet with a dead tree on it counts as a part of the 'end-times', right? "… And your recommendation?"
There was a silence.
This silence grew silent.
Silence was kicked out for not being silent enough.
The act of kicking silence out wasn't silent enough.
The kicker was shown the door with discreet hand movements.
And it grew quieter.
Much, much quieter.
But then it stopped.
"Use your imagination. Although, of course, no matter what you do, you will not succeed. Our visitor is proof of that."
The Empress had a finger to her chin, thinking and formulating. Furnas was known to be a planet of frauds, fakes and tricksters. Caminus probably would have benefitted from her death and decided to help bring it about.
But then again…
The Furnasian's words jumped about in her head. 'Our visitor is proof of that'. He was almost definitely referring to her, but that couldn't have been the case. After all, she was just peeking in on events that had once been. She couldn't have played much of a part, she was just watcing! She couldn't have affected the time her father decided that she was to die, she couldn't have affected the time Aisama was told to eliminate the threat, she couldn't have affected the outcome of her murder. She couldn't affect much at all these days and it was infuriating! Her scope of influence ended at where line of sight did and it was maddening! And now, figments of the past know what shouldn't have been known?
To be fair, Wyntre's version of being furious merely involved overtly-serious death-stares.
"Don't be so surprised. Otherworldly contact is a part of her job, after all."
"This isn't quite the Other World, though, is it? You're probably around the same level of power that Beelzebub inhabits. You could have probably stopped that without much effort at all! You let that happen, why?"
"No reason. No reason at all. Let me leave you with this perhaps irrelevant thought, though: you did not know your own story before death. Even now, much of your own history is unknown to you. This is not because I have not shown you, you see, it is rather because you hadn't made it yet. Death isn't the end of the line, it's the stuff you're doing when you're not enduring that menial 'life' thing. Your time here is nearly at a close, congratulations. Enjoy your final night here."
Wyntre had much to think about. She wasn't entirely sure what most of it was, though, but she was sure that there was a lot of it.
One of the main arguments playing out in her mind was the whole Furnas ordeal. It was so… frustrating. What if she indeed was cursed? What if Arcose's invasion and subsequently Zucceta's power gain was all her fault? No, no. She was the strongest living Arcosian! Probably! She had the best chances of defending the planet, so it was more of an inevitable defeat, so…
So the saiyan's victory was inevitable? It was almost as if the gods themselves wanted the universe's inhabitants as stupid as they could be so they gave power to the least mentally capable. It was almost as if the universe was an omnipotent toddler's sand pit, said toddler's only desire being to let the 'baddies' win. She'd have to retire for the night, she had a bad feeling about tomorrow.
She was right to have a bad feeling. 'Tomorrow' was a time most 'bad'.
First, it started with the lack of Egregore's presence, obviously a result of the lack of Egregore. Then, the sudden reappearance of Egregore was a tad startling. But that wasn't all that much of a problem, one thought overclouded all others:
Today an Empress will return.
It was a ridiculously-simple process. There was a door, just a door, that she would walk through. That was it. On the other side was life, great opportunities. On the other side was the universe, along with its hopes and despairs. On the other side was Zexama, as well as Zucceta. On the other side was her corpse.
Behind her was the pleasant entity, Egregore. Despite his ever-present light grin, she could tell that there was something worrying him. It felt almost as if her revival was being rushed so he could do something else, something more important.
Behind him was Vintr and her assortment of folks, as well as Solanale who looked like he didn't know what to feel. This was it. This was the end of her end and the beginning of her beginning. This was her revival.
It didn't feel like it, though. It felt like any other time. It didn't feel important enough. It wasn't right. Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
She put her hand to the tin doorknob. Cold. With a slow yet sudden movement, the white, wooden door opened seamlessly, revealing what was on the other side: the eventful nothingness. White, as far as the mind could comprehend. This was it.
She looked back to the acquaintances she's made along the way. Egregore, Vintr, Fragaria, the Ancient Elites, Solanale. She remembered the versions of herself she's met, she remembered how much she could have been different from a few minute factors. She remembered that this was it. The culmination of her death will be her life.
She remembered her meeting with Koramund, she remembered her meeting with Taiga, she remembered her meeting with Walker, she remembered her tutelage under Beelzebub. She remembered the Adincharans, the Sectinians, Doctor Axis. She remembered Paimon. She remembered Picante, the Captain. She remembered King Yemma. She remembered being murdered, her very blood empowering a tree whose fruit granted those who ate it insane power. She remembered Zucceta. She remembered Aksor. She remembered Zexama.
This. Was. It.
So she stepped through the door and closed it again from the other side. I lived a life. I died a death. And now I'm back again.
Some claim that the universe cannot be understood by mere mortals. They say that it is unknowable, unthinkable, infinitely-advanced. It turns out, in actuality, that the universe is just as finite as everything else. It's as simple as everyone else. It's as imperfect, as bland, as uninteresting as anything else could be, and we simply cannot comprehend its scale, its utter complexity, as we are insignificant idiots: monkeys with hats who claim to have an understanding of themselves and, in the process of saying so, make embarrassments of themselves all over reality's handkerchief.
Wyntre knew this. She had an understanding of how little reality gives a damn about itself, how matter itself works and, for a few brief moments, saw before her eyes the reason for her existence. She saw reality as it really was…
But not for long. The darkness found her and enveloped her like a blanket after a long day. What was this, she asked herself? The shadows soon answered: this was it. Wyntre woke up in a rush. It felt like reality kneed her in the gut.
She found herself pushed against the floor, the fuzzy ground resembling layers and layers of black cloth stacked atop of each other, but it felt more like tin. Cold. She tried to get up, but couldn't as she was being held down by an unknown force. She had the strangest feeling that she wasn't quite alive yet.
"Peculiar."
"Thank you."
She felt a sudden kick, sending her meters to the side. It wasn't particularly painful, but it probably wasn't meant to be, either. "Egregore decided to help you. Why? You're just some meat with some skin on it. He has no reason to help you, so why did he?"
"Vortigern, is it? I couldn't answer your question, neither can I, neither should I. I've asked him myself, to no avail. Why have you brought me here?"
Getting to her feet, Wyntre didn't bother to get into a fighting position. The way he spoke about Egregore implied that they were of a similar power; if he wanted to kill her, she'd probably be dead by now. "Don't question me, answer me instead!"
"I'd much rather not."
That comment seemingly earned her a slap. Rude. So, in return, Wyntre slapped the deity back, greatly shocking him. It didn't hurt him, of course, he probably didn't even feel it, but he became enraged by the thought that someone would dare slap him. "You dare slap your superior?"
A rare smirk covered her face, the first one to do so in quite a while. She felt alive already. "No, I do not dare slap my superior. I do not dare slap anyone, actually, as I do not dare. Dares are for children who don't know any better. I am not a child if you hadn't noticed, and I most certainly know better. Even if I were a child who didn't know any better, which I am not, then I would not slap my superior simply be because I don't have one. You may be, in effect, a god. You may be a deity. Perhaps actuality itself is your play thing. Perhaps you could create dimensions by thinking and perhaps you could obliterate everyone I've ever known with a thought," she started, not actually knowing if any of those things were true, "But I am Empress Wyntre Cold of Arcose, and I am your superior!"
This earned a chuckle. Of course, Wyntre did not expect Vortigern to bow down and worship her, as that would have been the right thing to do. What she was expecting him to do was much more simple: he'd humor her. He'd carry along with the joke for his own amusement and it will be his downfall. You see, Wyntre was stalling. Stalling until help arrived.
"I sent a lackey after you, I believe I named him Nightshade. You only survived because of Egregore's intervention. You are not superior."
She stood tall, confident. I will not be stood down by a mere god. "His name is Solanale. You'd have known that too if you had enough mental power to be able to ask him. You are intellectually inferior."
This angered the entity, but he kept his cool. "Why did Egregore help you?" Wyntre simply shrugged her shoulders, intense pain suddenly rushing to her head. "Answer me!"
Wyntre made a pained laugh. "I'd… much… rather… not…" This was it.
So she stood up and looked him in the eye. Her fists ready, she yelled out the following words: "MAKAIOKEN TIMES FOUR!"
"Makaio-what?" He could barely utter his words before fists slammed into his face, shocking him greatly. "You… You fool! How dare you strike me! You will die for this, you insolent little earthworm!"
Of course, the attack didn't hurt anything with the strict exception of his pride. The only way for Vortigern to ameliorate the wound to his pride would have been to destroy Wyntre and her soul as well as any evidence of this happening. Not surprisingly, this was exactly what he planned on doing.
The white door and its frame appeared, its opening knocking over Vortigern who was directly in front of it. They took their time. Out stepped Egregore, followed by Vintr, the other Wyntre and Winter. You could have audibly heard the foe's snarl.
"Fine, fine, my honor's taken enough of a beating as it is. Farewell, brother. You'll see me when you pick another flock of mortals to play with."
"Farewell."
Wyntre, once again, found herself before a door. The same door. This was it. I lived a life. I died a death. And now I'm back again.
She placed her hand on the warm tin doorknob, peeking through the sliver of the barely-open door. She didn't bother looking back, she knew they were there. She opened it and saw what she expected to see: white as far as the mind could comprehend.
And she walked straight passed it.
Meanwhile, on Vegeta, a whole lot of morally-questionable events were taking place.
On the throne of their Queen was impaled a skull, one clearly Arcosian in… design. It looked over the court, the people of the planet, the very planet itself, with dead eyes. But now? Well, now… This was it.
It started to fade, startling a passing saiyan. He didn't know what it meant, but the skull did. It always knows. It always knew. It always will know.
And now it simply faded, singing its silent song.
Eyes that shouldn't have opened, opened. Blood that shouldn't have flowed, flowed. Eyes that shouldn't have saw, saw. Minds that shouldn't have thought, thought.
She had died, but now she's back. It's simple, really. Alive, then dead, then alive.
She was 'six feet under', even when she was only two or feet three under. The ice surrounded her, keeping her safe from the lack of atmosphere found above. Not for long, though. She managed to turn in the little room she had, only to see her own skeleton. Its head was missing, of course, but it still seemed to be looking at her. Mocking her. Judging her actions like a hawk, only instead of a hawk, it was what used to be her. She made her way up.
This was a new life.
This was it.