ABOARD THE MARVEL, en-route through hyperspace.

Lute watched the swirling mass of stars and bent-space time slither past the massive viewport that dominated up most of the bridge of the Marvel. Marte was off doing something in the lower recesses of the ship, fiddling with one thing or another. Lute had reminded him to get back to his training, but the teen was easily distracted. Things were quiet. Lute couldn't help but wonder why he was heading to New Namek, the last place in the galaxy he ever wanted to visit.

Hachi had requested that Lute meet him there. The wizard was a strange man, with stranger intentions. Lute would have rather met him on Earth, but the magical message hadn't left room for conversation. Still, Lute couldn't help but worry that the wizard had some sort of bad news about the demonic book he had been translating.

It was times like this that Lute wished he had learned some sort of transportation magic. Waiting for a ship to whisk him across the stars could be grating, when matters were urgent.

---

TEMPLE OF THE WARRIOR, New Namek.

Lyre appeared in a blink and swirl of magical energy. He gripped his staff and cleared his throat, ascending white marble the steps to the temple ground. The wind cut across the green seas of Namek, gripping his cloak and setting it fluttering. He nearly felt like he was going to be pushed off and down into the steep chasms below. Still, he kept his balance and made his way careful.

Bad dreams, bad omens. As a fully-fledged member of the Dragon Clan, Lyre had begun to see visions during his meditations. Why him though? It's been decade since I thought of him.

He had seen Lute in the vision, his old friend. Well, Lyre didn't really think of him as a friend anymore. Not the person he had become. He always chose instead to think about their childhood together. All Namekians were fraternal brothers, all born of the Grand Elder Moori. Well, not anymore. The Grand Elder had been killed by Lord Trombone and his Immortal Clan wretches. New Namek had to be saved by a bunch of outsiders. It was shameful.

Since then, the Warrior Clan had been secluded in their training. No doubt they blamed their own weakness for the loss of the Grand Elder. Every single Namekian was heart broken, as if a part of themselves had died that day. It had been a time of morning. The thing that concerned Lyre was the fact that no other Elders had risen to take the position. It would take time. Until then, Namek's population would only decline and become stagnant.

At the top of the steps he froze. There it is again, that terrible ki.

His eyes set upon the horizon, dotted with various blue specks, each an island. There was a monster out there, of considerable power. Its aura sent tingles down Lyre's spine. Such ferocity, such anguish. So far it hadn't attacked any of the villages, but Lyre didn't feel like waiting for that to happen.

The Warrior Clan members stood in disciplined rows in the courtyard of the temple beyond. Their voices sounded in unison as they all punched and moved with the rhythm of the kata. Grand Master Tromb stood resolute, watching each actions with the utmost scrutiny. Tromb had been a recent promotion to the post. If Lyre remembered correctly, prior to becoming Grand Master, he had been the personal guardian of Elder Gutai.

Tromb felt the terrible presence too, holding his hand up to cease action. He locked eyes with Lyre's and they both follow each other's gaze to the distance.

"We will resume training later," Tromb said, his voice a stern with command.

The students all bowed and meandered off to their quarters or whatever chores they needed to do. Tromb and Lyre shuffled over and sat upon a stone bench next each other.

"You felt that?" Lyre said. "What should we do? It's not going away. Just keeps getting worse and worse."

Tromb glared off in the direction of the ki signature. Lyre could see the concern etched into the hard lines on the warrior's face. "That thing is strong. Far stronger than me. As much as I hate to admit it, I wouldn't be able to defeat an energy as big as that. I can lead a group of warriors, but I fear we may be leading them into a massacre."

Lyre let his fingers run over the carved runes in his staff. "I will go with you. I have binding magic. Maybe we can capture it and take it to Port Briefs. Maybe they can throw it in a cargo crate and send it offworld, or something."

The Grand Master clenched his fist, clearly gathering the courage he needed to act. He stood finally, giving Lyre a resolute nod. "I will gather my best warriors. And then we will move upon the monster."

WC: 829
@li

Grand Master Tromb wiped beads sweat away from his brow. They were close, to the monster--but not within line of sight. He had brought six students and Lyre was there as well, all tucked behind a rock face in a canyon. The sea sprayed them with brine as they made a makeshift plan. They had to be keen and clever hunters. They were dealing with a creature that far exceeded them in power. That didn't mean it was impossible to achieve victory, they just had to execute tactics precision and skin.

The twin suns of Namek hung in the sky overhead, scalding their heads and shoulders with a haze of rays. Lyre went over the parameters of his spell again, drawing a triangle in the mud with the tip of his staff.

"The binding comes with three layers. I have to plant six totems. I can do that alone, you just have to make sure the creature stays contained in this area."

He drew a second triangle over it and then a third that overlapped both of them. In there was a single spot where all three shapes met. It wasn't to scale, but they would get the idea. If the battle went outside of those bounds, the spell would lose most of its raw stopping power. That wouldn't be good for them at all. They had just one shot at this.

"So, our job is to fight this creature, keep it distracted as Lyre lays the trap. You are all my strongest students, but I want you to understand one thing, and one thing alone. You are not strong enough to take down this creature, or even fight it toe to toe. If you try to do that, it will break you like twigs. I will be fighting it and you're going to support me from a safe distance. Keep it confused and stressed. If it spots Lyre and realizes what he's doing, this whole thing will be over. We will all die."

The student's green skin seemed to pale to a mossy yellow. They nodded, saying nothing to their master. It was clear they could feel the dense pressure of its aura, even from this far away. They didn't need a reminder of what they were up against. But, he had a duty to make sure they were given orders. Tromb preached to his students about Genki, Yuki, and Shoki and having all three in sync so that one's ki was at it's maximum. Yuki, being the courage or confidence portion of ki was lacking in all of them, even himself. He needed to change that, needed to bolster himself and his students.

"Good thing we won't fail," he said.

His voice was sharp like steel, his face set with stern resolution. He took a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils. With that simple action, he drew out power and quieted the doubt in his mind. Such a quick method of fortifying oneself for the fight to come wasn't easy. It had taken him years of training and meditation. Mind now at the wayside, he leaped into action, letting his body and instincts do the talking. The students followed after. They ran along the tops of the mountains, leaping and jumping over the crags and atop the mesas.

Dozens of yards away from the monster, the seven broke formation, scattering to the four winds. Tromb slapped both his hands together as ran, sending ki clones of himself leaping to the left and right in a flanking maneuver. They would artificially inflate the numbers that the creature had to deal with, drawing even more of a focus.

Using telepathy, he reached out into the minds of his students. Start shooting ki blasts at it.

They did, stormy haze of bolts sizzling through the air. They converged on the monster like rain, exploding with violent consequence. Tromb floated up high, forming ki into his finger tips. It gathered there, sparking and snapping in the air. Turning his palm flat, he created a whirring disk like a buzz-saw. Cocking his arm, he hurled it at the ki signature of his foe, guiding it down with his finger. It would home and seek its target. He hoped using it would at least lop off a limb or cause a deep laceration.

WC: 726 | TWC: 1,555
@li

Tromb watched in silent horror as his energy disk was not just caught, but also bit into and shattered. He had anticipated this monster to be strong, but the disparity in power between them was beginning to feel like the size of an ocean ocean instead of a lake. Using the telepathic link he had with his ki clones, he sent them in. He had to remind himself of their mission. They needed to hold the creature off while Lyre worked on the binding spell. Victory in combat wasn't at all an object, just distraction and keeping it corralled.

It hurts the pride though, to feel so small against a goliath like this.

The clones would flank the monster on both sides, leveling their hands. They fired two condensed beams of ki, each one thin but packed with tons of volatile firepower. They were meant to create big explosions on impact, rather than cause any real damage. The idea was to kick up tons of dust and smoke. The real Tromb whipped his arm up and sent out a cutting line of ki. It was so thin and concentrated that to the naked eye it would seem invisible. But, it did its job in cleaving the entire island in half. Sea water rushed into the fissure and surged through the cracks, spilling out into the ravine formed by the creature's attacks earlier.

Sound. That was the tactic here. The moving of the earth and roaring of the waters were meant to deafen the monster. Tromb's clones used the smoke and sound to mask their movements, surrounding on all sides. With no where for it to go, they rushed in from every angle. The creature would need to rely on its ki senses detect their movements, so they wove their attacks in erratic patterns. Each one was a precise kick or punch, aimed low, high, to the left, to the right. The monster would need to be both fast and adept at hand to hand combat to stop them all, even so one or two were bound to get through.

The other five students, the ones not rampaged flew in and pumped their arms rapidly, hurling ki bolt after ki bolt. They were interwoven with the melee attacks Tromb initiated, like a harmony of violence and destruction.

Distract and maintain. Lyre needs a few more moments for this spell to work.

---

Lyre pulled the third totem out of his robes and uttered the incantation. He went to place it in the spot, but the entire island shook and almost knocked him off his feet. He pushed himself up, just in time to see a tidal wave headed towards him. Since he kept his ki signature suppressed, flying wasn't in his cards. Instead he had to use a spell to save himself from the devastation.

Slamming the tip of his staff into the dirt, the waves parted to both sides, turning into sludge and mud as they did. It built up a nice dam around him and a moment later he was safe. Hopping up onto the rock face, he continued his journey to plant the next totem.

WC: 532 | TWC: 2,087
@li

Confidence waning, Tromb began to think of a method of slowing this beast down. Emotion pierced his heart as he watched his students ravaged with such ferocity. He couldn't believe his eyes. Despite their efforts, they weren't getting much done. A lump rose in his throat and he floated there for a long moment, fighting against the terror. He didn't want to die. Not today. He wanted to live and train Namek's next generation of fighters. Grand Elder Moori was dead. The people of Namek were afraid and scared of what the future held. Saiyans and Galactic Empires were clashing in space. Worlds were being rocked by cataclysms. New Namek needed to be ready and able at a moment's notice to preserve the peace.

The monster began charging up a massive amount of ki. Volatile ki.

Everyone get back. Far back. Lyre, you're going to want to take cover for this one, he projected to his comrades via telepathy.

He dismissed his clones, each one dissolving into wavering for a moment before bursting into motes of raw ki. The next generation of Namek. Yes, they needed training. But, more than anything--they needed an example. To understand what it took to save their people from annihilation. Tromb passed a bittersweet smile to each of his students before he took his stance and began to power up.

He drew out all of the ki he could muster, and it flashed around him as a aura pure and white as snow. The ground underneath of him dissolved into a crater within seconds. Every ounce of ki he summoned was pumped into his fist, until it was thrumming and sparking. The entirety of his arm shook violently from the pressure. He could barely contain such a concentration of power in single point. But--he didn't need to, not for much longer.

With a roar, he charged at the monster and the charging ball of ki. Instead of targeting him, he swung his fist at the energy orb at the last second.  The idea was to use all of his power to detonate it and surprise the monster with his own deadly force. Even in back of his mind, Tromb knew that this was a desperate attempt. But, he was hoping for a bit of luck on his side.

The collision went nuclear as soon as it happened. The subsequent blast wave sent hi remaining students sprawling. The explosion had been focused upward due to the hook of his punch, but still, a giant chasm was carved out wreckage of the island the blink of an eye. Choking dust and smoke rose up in a great mushroom cloud into the sky. It could be seen from hundreds of miles away, by any set of eyes glancing in that general direction. Bits of loose rock, still red hot and smoldering, pattered and plunked into the sea.

Tromb had been incinerated, reduced to ashes by the burst. However, the monster....

---

Lyre pushed a rather large slab of stone off of himself and got up, dusting off his robes. He gazed at the chasm, eyes wide with horror. Tromb's signature was gone. He couldn't see anything through the smoke and haze. The creature, was it still there?

Probably. He clenched his jaw and set onward to finish the task. Just one more totem needed to be placed. He pulled it from his robe and began to utter the incantation as he made his way through the field of debris.

WC: 586 | TWC: 2,673
@li

The Marvel dropped out of hyperspace above the swirling emerald globe of New Namek. Three suns glinted in the distance, casting their vast illumination upon the world. This was Lute's first time returning home in decades. But, it didn't feel like returning home. It felt like stepping on dog shit. He felt his face twist into a snarl and when he turned around to call to Marte about bringing the ship down, he saw a figure in his peripheral vision.

Despite his keen hearing, he hadn't even heard the wizard enter his ship. Hachi slouched against the bulkhead, his bucket hat covering his eyes. Both of his hands were stuffed into his pockets.

"Did you finish translating the book?"

"No--" Hachi said.

"Why the hell did you call me here?"

"I know you have a storied history with your homeworld. I wouldn't have called you here for nothing. Trust me. But, it actually doesn't have anything to do with the book."

"I don't understand."

"I was here... borrowing some old texts from the Temple of the Dragon and also enjoying a short vacation with one of my old friends in Port Brief. That's when I realized that a old friend of yours was here. All angry and rampaging. May wanna calm him down."

Lute reached out with his senses, searching and feeling for any familiar auras. There were a lot of people on New Namek that he knew. None of them he actually considered friends. The aura hit him like a ton of bricks. Such raw unrestrained power, the sensation of it was similar to sticking one's hand over a blazing bonfire.

Sawba?

The Legendary Super Saiyan had been gone for a long time. The fact that he randomly showed up on New Namek was an enigma to Lute. The Namekian hadn't really chased after Sawba. He figured the warrior was off waging war against something far beyond the galaxy. But, why did return here and not Earth?

"Well, thanks for the heads up," Lute said to Hachi. "Don't call for me again unless you have that book done. As we agreed."

Hachi shrugged and drew his hand out of his pocket. With the snap of his fingers his cane appeared and he tapped it twice on the deck. The air around him shifted and shimmered as he was pulled into an ethereal doorway.

"Suit yourself, you grumpy bastard. Toodles~"

The wizard was gone and Lute wasted no time. The ship flew closer to the curve of New Namek's atmosphere He strode up to the airlock and punched a few combinations on the keypad. With a chirp of confirmation and a click the hatch opened. As he waited for decompression, he drew his aura out and kept it tight against his skin. It worked like a makeshift pressure suit. It felt like a small eternity. The longer he focused on the ki signature, the more he realized that something was very different about it.

It's muddled and different. Sawba's aura was far more refined. It had that distinct Saiyan feel. This has something else.

---

Lyre finished the last incantation and now the spell was set. He needed only execute it. He took his staff in hand and strode up a pile of rubble left behind after Tromb's sacrifice. First the island had been severed in two and now there was a giant divot at its heart, as though a meteor fell from orbit. The crater took up third of the broken island, leaving behind little else. It had been a dramatic and violent battle thus far.

Good thing for Lyre, the area of the conflict had not exited the the designated zone.

A ki beam erupted out of the lingering haze of dust and smoke, lancing past him only a few feet away. As he collected his senses, he reached out to feel no one but the monster there. The rest of them were gone. That notion hit him hard and he almost doubled over. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Tromb was a goner. Most of his students were dead. A couple of hung on just barely. They would need medical attention. But, after he activated the spell, he doubted he would have enough mana left to bring them back from the brink.

He clenched his jaw and was ready to end it. It was up to him now.

Raising his hands and staff in the air, he would make eye contact with the monster for a brief second. It wasn't some wicked creature, as he expected--but a man with dark eyes and blazing crimson aura. He wrapped his fingers around the staff and brought it down with both hands, slamming the tip of it into the rock.

"Grand Banishment!"

Ghostly blue flames flared up from each of the totems he placed all over the region. They were separated by miles. Pillars of fire shot into the sky all at once, bending and converging at a single point above the crater. As soon as the pillar linked together, the spell initiated with a flash.

For the monster, it would seem as though nothing happened. As if the banishment spell had been a dud. But, for Lyre, the monster was gone--whisked away to a layer of reality one step below that of the Mortal Realm. There the monster could see, hear, and feel everything happening. Yet, they couldn't interact with it. Any attacks against Lyre would pass through him, as if he were a ghost. The monster was just an astral body now, a phantom beyond the material. The only way out was to break the spell, but he couldn't reverse the totems without being able to touch them.

Lyre let his staff fall. It clattered to the ground, rolling into the crater. He collapsed to his knees and pressed his hands against his face. And he wept, silently for his fallen friends.

WC: 991 | TWC: 3,664
@li

Lute floated about the ruined island, arms crossed in front of him. His face was twisted with irritation. Both his dark eyes surveyed the wreckage. Occasionally, he would spot green among the blue grass and dirt. A body, or part of it. The fighting here had been gruesome and the stranger that took down these Warrior Clansmen didn't hold back, not for a second. Lute could admire that and also their aura, which he felt despite not being able to see the person among the lingering smoke and choking dust.

Drifting down, he landed on in front of Lyre. Lute had not seen him in decades, but recognized him instantly. The sage had changed very little over the years. Sure, Lyre had grown little bit more powerful, based on what Lute could sense outward. But, he had been left leagues behind Lute's own progression.

"Lyre," Lute said, his voice sounding like a dark omen.

The Dragon Clansmen eyes instantly narrowed upon Lute. He clutched at his staff a little tighter. Lute could only give a fanged smirk back.

"What did you do here, Lyre?"

Lute noticed the totem at Lyre's feet. He surged forward in a blur of motion. Lyre winced and held up his staff defensively, anticipating an attack. Lute's back faced him now as he surveyed the strange anomaly crackling and rippling through the air. The man they trapped was pushing back with so much power that the seal was being tested. That was interesting.

Lute tossed the totem up and down in his hand, and let it roll through his fingers as he examined the runes. This was a very complicated spell, one of the higher tier powers that he hadn't learned. Then again, he had abandoned his Dragon Clan training early on.

"Lute. You're not allowed here. You've been banished. I suggest you leave at once."

"Or what?" Lute said.

He let the totem drop after garnering the information he needed from it. "You're going to force me? You could barely take out this Saiyan. You were forced to trap him instead of kill him. Yet, some how you think you hold a candle to me? I'm far stronger than he is."

"Strength isn't everything Lute."

Lute snarled and swiveled back around, pointing a sharp nailed finger at his old friend. A bead of amethyst light appeared there, flaring bright and hot.

---

53 YEARS AGO, New Namek

"Hey Lute, come check this out?"

Lute climbed up the massive marbled rock-face, struggling to find finger hold. Lyre had already made it to the top, so Lulte wanted to get up there too. They had come to see Port Brief together. The Grand Elder had forbid them go to Port Brief. But, they could still get a look at it from this vantage pokint without getting in trouble.

Despite his efforts, Lute was a bad climber. He grunted with exertion as his finger slipped in a nook and he almost went tumbling back down to the grassy meadow. The wind kicked up, fluttering his traditional student robes. Both of his eyes closed as he tried not to get blown off, terror wracking him.

The wind gust passed. Lyre's little bald green head peered over the edge, a broad smile on his face. "Come on Lute, you're so slow."

"Sorry Lyre," Lute squeaked. "I'm trying my best."

"No worries Lute," Lyre said. "I'll help you up."

The little green hand extended out, fingers curled. Lute was happy for the help at first, he reached out too. But, just as he was about to rest his palm into Lyre's, he stopped.

No, if I don't do this myself than I'll never get stronger. I'll be the weakest student forever.

Hot anger swelled into his chest and he felt like he wanted to cry, but sucked down hard. He wouldn't cry in front of his friend. He also wouldn't be pitied. They all did that to him, the teachers and the other students. Pitied him for his weakness and incompetence. They laughed at him for his inability to memorize the runes and incantations. They whispered too, how he may be pushed out of the Dragon Clan and sent off to some forlorn village to be a simple farmer. Lute wouldn't have any of that. They didn't know that he listened, that he knew what they really thought of him.

"I got it Lyre, now get out of my way," Lute said.

He sunk his nails into the rock, pushing with all of his anger. The rock gave way, cracking and splintering beneath the power he summoned unknowingly. With a deep grip now, he was able to hurl himself onto the top of the rock face. He laid there for a long moment breathing heavy from the exertion. Lyre had already moved on, plopping down at the opposite edge, feet dangling as he gazed off at the sprawling vista.

Lute focused on Lyre's back for a long time. His anger didn't want to cool, it keep looking for more fuel, for more reasons to exist. His training told him to breathe and let it pass. But, it felt so good to give it reasons. He thought about pushing Lyre off the edge, about making him pay for thinking Lute too weak. And then it all came crashing down, his frustration melting into sadness and into remorse.

He didn't want to kill his friend. He didn't want to hurt anyone. Picking himself up, Lute waddled over to the other edge and sat beside Lyre. From their spot, they watched the spaceships coming and going into the bustling trade port. They watched in awe. It was so much fun.

---

A bolt of ki lanced forth from Lute's finger. Lyre didn't notice for a few seconds, as the massive hole had opened up in his chest. It smoked and smoldered. Lyre's face twisted into horror as he realized his heart and upper respiratory system had been disintegrated. And then, he collapsed into the dirt. Purple blood spread into the grass and wet the dirt.

Lute lowered his finger. He felt nothing, no regret and no remorse for the ruined corpse of his former friend. In Lyre he only saw weakness and was glad to cull it. No longer with distractions of the past, Lute started to walk the perimeter of the entrapment spell. His fingers sparked with the static in the air. It still lingered from the casting, a lot of power had been channeled and the veil between dimensions was weakened. Dispelling of spell of this caliber usually took skill and cunning. One had to find the weakest point in the framework and interject their own magic in a precise burst. It was then like pulling on a loose thread. With enough force and patience, you could unmake the spell.

Fortunately for Lute, the man on the other side was making the task far easier with his constant pushing against it. The volume of his aura itself passed through the layers between dimensions, rippling outward. The seal was strained and nearly about to pop. If the guy had been a little stronger, he could have broken it himself.

Lute found the weak point. A ghostly flame escaped his finger tips, flickering off into the distance before it dissipated. A moment later the entire area was engulfed in a massive blue flame conflagration. The magic seal shattered into a thousand glittering fragments and reality warped to the point that the grass and dirt were bleeding into the sky, swirling and churning. Lute stood in the center of the storm, a bubble of ki protecting him from the adverse cosmic energies.

And then, after few heartbeats in the silence, reality folded back to normal. Except, the Saiyan had returned. Lute spotted him, broad shouldered and dark haired, wreathed in a crimson flame. This stranger's body was a picture of strength, muscles popping and straining under the tension of his power up. Lute could only regard him in curiosity. The aura felt like Sawba, and the face held uncanny resemblance. Yet, it was clearly someone else, and someone even stronger than Lute remembered his old ally being.

"Just who are you boy?" Lute said.

He let his own aura manifest, wisps of deep amethyst smoke pouring from his pores. If the Saiyan could sense, he would feel Lute's malice, like the presence of a black hole in the world. It air was thick with it, hatred and rage condensed to the point of critical mass. Lute felt more demon than Namekian, only because few creatures other than demons coudl achieve that level of corruption.

WC: 1,444 | TWC: 5,108
@li

OOC: Fenn--I threw your RPs into Word and you're coming out at 2,653 total word count right now. Just wanted you to have an accurate gauge, as adventures earn rewards based on word count now.

Lute watched with a stoic expression as this stranger powered up. He was reluctant to use the word Saiyan, but the power was akin. Yet it felt wrong somehow, the longer he concentrated on the aura the more its intricacies showed. It bothered Lute that the stranger looked so much like Sawba. He wondered just how that had come to be. The Legendary Super Saiyan had been gone for almost two years now, as far as he knew.

Lute and Cam were the last of the Leviathans.

The Skybreaker was nowhere to be found. Any semblance of the organization or Sawba's infuence had been scattered to the four winds. Lute had resolved himself, as apart of his overarching goal, to rebuild and revitalize the group. There was just one creed and one creed alone that remained important to them. Strength alone mattered most. Each Leviathan was deemed equal of the other's efforts, and helped each other accomplish goals. They could judge and challenge each other's intentions and beliefs. But, whether or not such ideas were worthy was challenged in single combat. Because, again--strength mattered most.

After all the flash and flicker of insane power, the man collapsed--body wracked by his lack of control. Lute grimaced. He couldn't imagine having that much power without an inkling of mastery over it. It was insane. This Sawba look-alike needed training, and a lot of it. Raw power alone only got you so far.

With him unconscious Lute pondered a moment best way to converse with him. Asking him forthright probably wouldn't go over so well. All the raw emotion and anger wasn't helpful for discourse. There was a way, but he just hoped it wouldn't be too jostling to a young and fragile mind.

He sat down cross legged in front of the strangers ravaged form and closed his eyes, breathing in and out in slow controlled breaths. Lute's spirit shifted inside of his shell and when he opened his eyes he was sitting in the astral plane, a ghastly version of the reality around them. Namek itself was plunged into grays and blues, swirling and churning like an ethereal ocean. Lute's spirit stood up, but his body remained sitting--a washed out reminder of where it was in reality. 

His spiritual form composed of a writhing mass of purple and black, only vaguely shaped like a Namekian. Its appearance was a testament to his demonic corruption. Most creatures had a spiritual body that looked to be wreathed in light color, radiant and shining. Not Lute though, he wriggled and writhed like a mass of decaying maggots. He held a dripping hand out in his astral body and touched upon the spirit of the collapsed man, dislodging it from its shell with a burst of mystical force.

"We can talk like this, where your are not addled by the rage. That body of yours is an amalgamation, no wonder you can't keep your head straight. Now, I asked you a question before. Who are you?"

WC: 535 | TWC: 5,643
@li

"I was born of the Dragon Clan," Lute said. "I am Lute."

His spiritual form shifted and flickered as he 'walked' across the astral landscape. The corpse of Lyre was but a faint whisper here, a shadow of the real. He knelt before it, staring into it for a long moment. A few tiny wisps of lingering spiritual energy, little more than residue, were left behind from Lyre's passing. Being a faithful Dragon Clansmen and servant of the gods meant his soul was whisked away on a one track trip to the gates of Otherworld.

"I long ago purged that weakness and took only the useful things I gathered from my youth. I traveled the stars, learning of the ancient Super Namekians and their ways--follow the tracks of those too who found little value in the life the Elders wanted you to live. These ancestors of mine were strong, beyond belief. They took what they needed from the universe and crushed opposition. They were feared much as the Saiyans are now."

He held out his his hand, crushing it into a fist. "And they were betrayed for their ambitions and cast out. A terrible tale, that also befell the Saiyans. Interesting how that happens. Those that gather power are squashed before they become a threat. The few that survived lashed out against the way of peace, bringing war and destruction. They embraced the demonic ways, infusing themselves the dark powers of entropy and chaos. They were malignant threats, hunted down and killed one by one. The last of which resided on Earth under the guise Demon King Piccolo."

In this place without sound and without time, Lute looked to the swirling abyss of the sky. Even the Demon Clan had a limited scope, a sight that didn't extend as far as Lute's did. Demon King Piccolo only wanted to rule and dominate. Lute wanted that, but he also strove to build a future, to expand his reach to the gods. By reaching them he would cast them out and forge a universe where strength mattered and death had real meaning. All creatures would struggle to survive, fear the inevitable end, and make most of their lives. No longer would they be trapped by promises of eternal bliss in heaven. They would grow stronger for it too.

"Maybe a few years ago I would have spoke with pride and announced myself of the Demon Clan. Until I met another warrior, a Saiyan. He was very similar to you, in more than one way. His power, his aura, even his tenacity--unmatched across the stars. He called himself Sawba and he had a vision of reckoning. It came with cooperation and mutual respect. It worshiped power as the true and tried way of proving oneself, of being respected. Together with others we were going to tear down the defunct and useless walls that confined this universe. Yes--it was through Sawba I was able to see beyond my own nose, that so much more could be accomplished."

Lute's dark form expanded and swelled as his power flared inside of him. "Now-a-days, young Fenn, I would rather call myself a Leviathan."

Those words spoken, Lute projected a crimson ouroboros into Fenn's mind. The entire beast was wreathed in the fires of a thousand suns. It devoured itself, only to be reborn larger and more ferocious each time as it swelled to the size of a universe and beyond.

WC: 579 | TWC: 6,222
@li