Hey guys, so I'm still alive. Maidens, Ashes, and Souls, is NOT dead, but I'm doing this as a fun little diversion to get myself back into writing a bit. Let me know what you think.

The first sensation Jonathan felt was a blinding white light. It wasn't exactly what he had expected, but perhaps this was another one of Aldia's riddles. The Undead thought back to the conversation with the insane scholar just moments earlier. "The throne will certainly receive you. But the question remains…What do you want, truly? Light, Dark…or something else entirely?" As quickly as the thought had come, Jonathan dismissed it. He might not have been a scholar like Aldia, nor as philosophical as Vengarl, but Jonathan was fairly certain that all-consuming, blinding light was not the "something else entirely" that Aldia had referred to.

It seemed that Jonathan may have made the right decision when he ascended to the Throne of Want, rather than following Aldia in whatever mad scheme the ancient man had concocted. At least, it seemed that way until Jonathan felt his entire body crushed into the ground.

The warrior cried out as he felt himself crash into a hard surface, just as white as everything else around him. The surface itself was strange; it felt hot to the touch, then cold, then hot again, as if it was conscious of Jonathan's presence and refused to let him adapt to it. Realizing that he would be stuck here forever if he didn't do something, Jonathan attempted to rise to his feet, only to discover exactly why he had fallen in the first place. He was heavy—unnaturally so.

Wherever he was now, Jonathan deduced that the gravity of this place was at least six times stronger than it had been in Dragleic, perhaps more. He felt his armor threatening to crush his torso while his arms were pinned down underneath their iron chainmail. Jonathan wanted to curse himself for wearing his full Heide Knight armor into the fight with Nashandra, but the chainmail-reinforced plate had saved his skin several times in the fight. As it was, he was at least thankful that he had the idea to forgo the helmet. Jonathan had expected Nashandra to be much stronger and did not want to obstruct his vision, a choice that had probably saved his life here—the Heide knights wore heavy iron helmets, which would have likely crushed his skull in this place's intense gravity.

Jonathan returned his thoughts to the issue at hand. He couldn't move his arms, but his legs might be another matter—the majority of the weight in his metal greaves was focused into the front of them, so his shins were not being pinned down as the rest of him was; rather, they were merely being pulled down. Grunting with exertion, the warrior managed to move his right knee several inches forward. A small victory, but a victory.

Over the next two hours, Jonathan exerted himself harder than he could ever remember—and between Raime, the Ancient Dragon, and the Frigid Wastes, that was no small milestone. Eventually, he was able to get both of his knees underneath his chest, and he used them as a lever to pry his upper body off of the ground.

Finally able to look around properly, Jonathan examined his surroundings and saw…more whiteness.

Jonathan was about to lose his temper when he finally saw a structure in the distance that broke up the monotony and provided him a visual anchor to orient himself with—a medium-sized building with two enormous hourglasses on either side. Unfortunately, just as he saw it, the gravity overcame his strength and drove him from his kneeling position back down to his arms and legs, but Jonathan had felt it coming and managed to catch himself. Rather than being forced into a lying position, Jonathan was crawling on all fours.

Just great, Jonathan thought to himself, before beginning the arduous trek towards the building, praying to Caitha that the crawl was as short as it seemed, and not just a trick of perception.

"He…he dodged it!" Piccolo could barely believe it. The Special Beam Cannon was his strongest attack—hell, he spent five entire minutes charging the energy he needed for it! And Raditz had sidestepped it like it was nothing.

"Congratulations, you managed to give me a little scratch…and for that you'll pay dearly." The tall Saiyan smirked, but Piccolo and Goku could see the poorly concealed rage behind it. Piccolo's attack had managed to break off one of the larger Saiyan's shoulder pads, crumbling the armor piece into nothing. If only it had landed. Raditz began charging his own attack in response, before he froze, his face immobilized in a rictus of pain. He looked down at his waist, where Goku had grabbed hold of his tail.

"Piccolo, start charging your attack again!" Piccolo grinned. Perhaps they actually had a chance.

The crawl was longer than it seemed—although, somewhat mercifully, not by much. After three hours, Jonathan had finally dragged his exhausted body onto white stone tiles when he felt the intense gravity suddenly lift—lighter than even Drangleic's gravity. The Undead warrior felt lighter than air, and even quickly did a jump to see how high he would go. A bit childish, but at that moment, wracked with exhaustion and relief in equal measure, Jonathan didn't particularly care. After all, it's not like anybody was around to see it.

After determining that he could, in fact, jump higher than he could in Drangleic, Jonathan surveyed the building. There was a pantry and a kitchen, with a full refridgerator. Food might have been useless to an Undead, but the filled containers implied that either somebody lived here or had anticipated his arrival—neither of which were particularly encouraging to Jonathan. He did not particularly relish the idea of being taken for a thief.

Beyond the kitchen, however, was a bath, already drawn. As much as he did not want to seem a thief, Jonathan also noticed just how filthy his body was after decades of waging a nearly constant war against the monsters and champions of Drangleic, and temptation won out over caution. Jonathan shucked off his armor and undergarments and sank into the tub, his six-foot and then some frame fitting into the tub quite comfortably. He let out the loudest sigh he had ever made in his life as he sank down to his neck in the hot bath. Undead didn't sleep, but this was a close second.

"GOKU, NO!"

Piccolo couldn't believe it—that absolute moron had been taken in by Raditz's pathetic pleas for mercy and released his tail.

They were dead, Piccolo realized with horror as Raditz taunted Goku with his foot slowly crushing his own brother's ribcage. They were going to die now. Piccolo had lived his entire life as Goku's mortal enemy, and now Goku had directly caused his death.

At least, those were Piccolo's thoughts until Raditz's ship exploded, accompanied by an angry child's shout.

Far away, on Kami's lookout, the Guardian of Earth and Mister Popo, his attendant, were observing the fight when a door opened behind them. A door Kami knew for a fact nobody could have possibly been on the other side of.

The entrance to the Hyperbolic Time Chamber opened fully and Kami and Popo backed up slightly as an intimidating sight greeted them: a human—and clearly a warrior—a fair bit taller than Goku but much broader, clad in metal plate and chainmail, covered at the shoulders with a white shawl. He was not wearing a helmet, and his face seemed almost shockingly normal for somebody walking out of a pocket dimension nobody had even entered in over a decade. His skin was slightly tanned and he had an unassuming mop of short, sandy-brown hair atop his head, but it was his eyes that spoke the most. The skin around them was smooth, giving off an air of youth, and yet the eyes themselves spoke of many years of hardships and suffering. It took Kami concerted effort to look away from the amber-brown pools in his sockets, and once he did, the Guardian noticed that on the man's back he carried a massive longsword, almost as long as Piccolo himself was tall.

The man looked between Kami and Popo several times, before settling his gaze upon the Namekian, and began to speak. If he was made uncomfortable by either Kami's green skin and wrinkles or Popo's black skin and rotund appearance, the man's voice revealed nothing of it. If anything, the man's voice seemed shockingly normal as he began to speak.

"You…sir. Where am I? How far am I from Drangleic?"

Kami hesitated for a moment before regaining his composure. "You are on my Lookout. I'm afraid I've never heard of this 'Drangleic', but you are floating above the Earth."

"Earth? I've never encountered anyone from that kingdom."

Kami's eyes widened as the old Namekian realized what had happened. Whoever this human was, he had entered the Hyperbolic Time Chamber from a completely different dimension—perhaps even another universe entirely. King Kai needs to know about this, but right now we may be able to use him.

"I can explain everything, but first I'm afraid I must ask for your assistance in an urgent matter." The man's left eyebrow raised slightly, but Kami sensed no irritation or malice from him, and so continued. "Right now, our…kingdom is under assault from an incredibly powerful warrior. Our two strongest fighters are engaging him in battle, but they are fighting a losing battle. If you go now and help them, I will answer all of your questions, and I will do my best to try and help you return to this Drangleic."

The man did not hesitate. "It's a deal. Where are they fighting? Is it close enough for me to reach them on foot?"

"O-On…foot?" Kami stuttered for a moment. Surely he can fly…I can sense this young man's strength. While it's not quite on Piccolo or Goku's level, he has certainly gone past the ability of a human without the use of ki.

"Of course. I don't have a horse to carry me there."

Kami decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Of course not," he said, turning to his attendant. "Mister Popo, if you would please retrieve your carpet?" The genie quickly ran off to retrieve his flying carpet.

Now it was the stranger's turn to look confused. "How is a carpet going to…" He trailed off as Popo returned, standing aboard a floating carpet. "Oh. Like that, I suppose."

Kami looked at the man one last time as he boarded to carpet with Popo, looking somewhat unnerved. As the man's hands clamped onto the sides as if for dear life, Kami voiced one final question. "By the way, stranger, should the worst come to pass, I would like to at least know your name. I am Kami, Guardian of Earth."

The stranger gulped down his unease at the magical rug before turning to respond. "I am Jonathan. I'm afraid I don't really have any titles for you."

"That is enough. Good luck, Jonathan."

Popo commanded the carpet to move towards the wasteland where Piccolo and Goku were fighting against Raditz, and Jonathan let out a scream as he was yanked along with it at supersonic speed.

"See? It never pays to tell a lie!" Goku was desperately holding onto Raditz's limbs with his own entangled arms and legs. Gohan had already been knocked out of commission after his single attack nearly destroyed Raditz's armor, and the situation had looked extremely dire. Several meters away, Piccolo was busy charging up his Makankosappo again, and Goku had resigned himself to his fate. He would let himself die, so long as he took Raditz down with him.

Raditz continued to scream desperately at Goku, trying everything he could to get free. Finally, it seemed Piccolo had finished charging, and Raditz froze in terror.

"Prepare yourself Goku, it's time! SPECIAL BEAM CANNON, FIIIIIRE!"

As the yellow and purple energy drill fired towards the two brothers, Raditz's self-preservation instincts kicked in and gave him one last burst of strength. He flexed all of his limbs and broke free of Goku's grapple, throwing himself to the side as Piccolo's attack hit empty air, then continued and pierced directly through Goku's torso.

Raditz looked at his weaker brother, lying on the ground with a hole in his chest, and began to cackle. "Haha! That ought to show you, Kakarot! Sacrificing yourself for someone else never pays out in the end!"

Piccolo stood still, nearly comatose. But…how? How did he break free? Goku was holding him in a perfect grapple…

Piccolo was so overcome with shock that he didn't even move when Raditz flew over to him in an instant and delivered a crushing haymaker to his stomach. The son of the Demon King was also too shocked to see Popo's carpet approaching the scene.

On the carpet, Jonathan had finally managed to acclimate himself to the sensation of flying—not being carried by a massive eagle to the Bastille, but legitimately flying…on a carpet—when they reached the scene of the battle. Popo's eyes widened. "Oh no."

Jonathan looked down and saw a small child and what was almost certainly his father on the ground, the father with a gaping chest wound. He turned to Popo. "I'm going to assume that is one of your warriors?"

Popo nodded, the genie visibly terrified at the scene. Jonathan's eyes softened. "Drop me off here, I can run the last hundred meters." Popo nodded again as the carpet began to descend and Raditz began torturing Piccolo.

"COME ON, LITTLE GREEN MAN, WHERE HAS ALL THAT CONFIDENCE GONE NOW? OH WAIT, I KNOW, IT WAS INSIDE KAKAROT'S STOMACH, SO I GUESS YOU KILLED IT YOURSELF!"

Piccolo was barely holding on to consciousness under the relentless assault of Raditz's boot to his face and torso. Before he blacked out entirely, Raditz cut off mid-sentence and jumped to the side. As Piccolo's vision swan, he could swear he saw a large sword right in the location Raditz's heart had been, mere milliseconds earlier. Then everything went black and Piccolo fell unconscious.

"Just who the hell are you? I didn't find any high power levels on this planet besides these two, and I crushed them effortlessly!"

"Effortlessly, huh? I guess that's why your armor is cracked in six places and your limbs are so heavily bruised."

Raditz's eyes widened as this new warrior took up a defensive stance, their greatsword held in both hands. "HOW DARE YOU MOCK ME, I AM A SAIYAN WARRIOR!"

The new fighter scowled. "I don't see a warrior, I see a bully. I've killed warriors worth ten of you on more than a dozen occasions. Don't you dare put yourself on their level."

Raditz's face twitched at the insult as his scouter beeped. He looked at the reading and adopted a relaxed smile. "Ha! I know you're bluffing now! The scouter here measures your power at 285. Even less than these two weaklings! I'll walk on you like an elephant walking on an inse-"

"Shut the fuck up."

Raditz seethed as the man interrupted him. "Excuse me?"

"I said shut the fuck up. I'm sick of hearing your arrogant voice."

The large Saiyan frowned. "Fine then, I'll let my fists do the talking!" Raditz launched himself forward as fast as he could, leading with a left hook.

His fist met nothing but the man's hair. He had ducked a millisecond before contact.

"H-How did you do that? Your power level is barely a fifth of mine!" Raditz panicked internally as he screamed externally. This doesn't make any sense, the scouter's reading is absolute! Sure, the other warriors were able to raise and lower their power levels, but his power level didn't budge a single bit!

Jonathan decided to interrupt the Saiyan's meltdown with a charge of his own. "I thought I told you to shut. The. FUCK. UP!" He leapt forward as he screamed, cleaving the King's Sword downward in a vicious vertical strike. Raditz jumped back just in time, avoiding the blow, which carved a three-foot line into the ground where it landed. Damn it, he's faster than his size should allow. I won't be able to brute force a victory here.

That was fine by Jonathan. Just like Raime, just like Alonne, he would have to watch Raditz's strikes and learn his tells. Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury of a nearby bonfire to fudge the odds. SO he would have to be flawless.

At that moment, Raditz raised his right hand, and a ball of light began to form. "I like to call this one 'Keep Your Eye on the Birdy!'" He flung the ball at Jonathan, and as soon as the ball left Raditz's hand it shot forward at incredible speed.

Jonathan dove to the side, the attack barely grazing his left leg. As he landed, Jonathan felt a massive blast of wind behind him, and saw a burst of light from that direction. Whatever substance the attack had been made of, it was the most destructive thing Jonathan had ever seen.

Jonathan gulped as the direness of his situation finally sunk in. There's no way I can survive more than a single direct hit from this bastard…Alright, time to respond in kind.

Jonathan wasn't much of a sorcerer, nor was he particularly good with miracles. But he had learned a few things about pyromancy here and there—including from Navlaan, the demon who had contracted him to murder several people.

Not that he had actually done it—instead, he just borrowed a couple items from each "target" and presented them as proof of the kill. Navlaan was fairly easy to dupe for such an intimidating monster.

But the crux of it was a monstrously powerful pyromancy Navlaan had taught him: the Forbidden Sun. Jonathan had tried it once and the resulting explosion had nearly destroyed the entirety of Tseldora. It had taken months of apologizing to Ornifex after that little debacle.

As far as last resorts went, Jonathan could do worse. But first he would have to pin the Saiyan down somehow.

Well…I do have a big damn sword.

Deciding to go for broke, Jonathan leapt forward at Raditz without a word, raising his sword behind his right shoulder, hoping the Saiyan would fall for the feint. Raditz proved his own short-sightedness in spectacular fashion, punching his fist directly into Jonathan's chest. Jonathan grinned as Raditz's fist sunk into his chest, nearly breaking through his spine. Being Undead had quite a few advantages.

Jonathan reversed his grip, spinning his sword and sinking it backhand with all his strength into Raditz's thigh. He felt tension as the end of the sword met the ground and kept pushing until the crossguard meet the Saiyan's thigh flesh.

Satisfied that the two feet of metal wedged into the ground would be enough to hold Raditz down, Jonathan let go of the sword and stuck his left hand out, pointing the palm directly at the larger warrior's face, and summoned up every scrap of flame from within himself that he could manage. The flames coalesced into a roiling sphere of lava and fire.

As Raditz's eyes cleared from the pain of being impaled, he registered what was happened and began to panic in earnest. Jonathan ignored his cries and decided to indulge himself a bit.

"You really seem to like announcing attack names, so what the hell. FORBIDDEN SUN!"

The sphere left Jonathan's hand, shooting out towards Raditz's face. The instant it made contact, the flames exploded in an enormous shower of heat and destruction. Overhead, a small vehicle appeared and began to lower itself to the ground as the conflagration began to dissipate.

When the smoke cleared, Raditz's entire body had disintegrated. Jonathan fell to his knees as he heard the engine behind him. An instant later, he smiled as he lost consciousness, barely registering that his right arm had been nearly disintegrated and the entire front of his armor had been charred black.

The last thing Jonathan saw before the blackness claimed him was a shock of teal hair running towards one of the downed fighters.