Prologue

I glance nervously around, listening for any indication of where the monster was hiding. The silence of the wasteland was ironically deafening. The sun was blazing on the landscape before me and the humidity made my skin feel oily. Sweat rolled down the side of my face as I slowly descended. The pressure of being watched came upon my back. I spun around as an indescribable, animalistic battle cry was released.

SLAM!

My head shot up from the wooden desk. My eyes slowly adjusted to the fluorescent light and I tried blinking to speed up the process. My other senses started to connect to the conscious part of my brain. There were chuckles and giggles around me.

"Welcome back to the real world, Miss Monell," My teacher, Mr. Pruitt, smiled. He had his hands rested on a dictionary that was only a couple of inches away from where my head was moments ago.

"It's nice to be back, sir," I give a half-hearted smile and salute. The laughter increased by half.

Mr. Pruitt was about to say something again, but the bell interrupted him. He sighed and waved his hand as everyone's dismissal. I didn't move from my seat as my classmates started to file out of the room. He watches me with a sad look as my eyes follow the last student out the door.

"Lara," Mr. Pruitt said with a disappointed tone. "This is the 7th time in three weeks. I'm worried that you aren't getting enough sleep at home." He sighs. "Is there a family problem going on at home?"

I snorted and began to laugh like a dying pig. "No, no, sir. It isn't anything like that. Just staying up a little too late, that's all."

Mr. Pruitt clearly didn't believe me, but waved his hand to dismiss me. I picked up my bag and rushed to my locker. Everyone else had already left the building or had headed to their required club meeting. I was actually glad Mr. Pruitt stopped me. I didn't need to be as discreet as I needed to be.

I ended up running into someone through my carelessness. The force was incredible (was I really running that fast?) but I dug my heels to the ground to stop me from falling over. I blinked as I was greeted with the sight of my halt.

Trunks Briefs. I, of course, had to have strange thoughts. If he had been named Boxer, it would have been a very cruel joke. Luckily, I get over that train of thought quickly.

"Hi," I simply say. "Sorry, but I didn't think anyone else would roam the halls after school." He seems taken aback by me keeping my balance. He composes himself after my sentences.

"It's alright. I didn't think there was anyone else either." He smiles softly. We barely had any classes together, so we didn't really talk much. Now that I'm thinking about it, we've had plenty of schools projects and he hasn't once been paired up with me. The same can be said for Son Goten. I am starting to think that this isn't a coincidence.

I smile mischievously. "Nice to know that I'm not the only one creeping arounds the school after hours." He laughs lightly. "So what do you do while stalking the halls?"

Trunks' smile remains. "My friend got detention so I have to wait before we both go home. What about you?"

I shrug. "I like waiting for the traffic to slow down." He nods in understanding as I check his watch.

He notices the trail of my sight and starts to look weary. I smile and wave my hand nonchalantly. "Don't worry. I have to be home at a certain time or else I get in trouble. By the looks of it, I should start heading there now." I give one wave of my hand before darting down the hall.

"See you never again!"

I grit my teeth in frustration. Sweat glistened on my skin and my muscles cried in agony. My breath was irregular as I tried to regain control over my body.

"Again."

I lifted up my head to glare at the speaker. An old man, I called him. He looked far younger than that. White spikey hair, but no wrinkles of age upon his face. No weary bones, still straight back, and no shrinkage in height. This is how a Saiyan man ages.

He lifts his eyebrows, begging me to give him a response. His glare was harsh, even though his eyes showed his true age. I gave a huff and began moving. My footsteps echoed in the empty space of the cave. A spectral solider looked back with an apologetic look.

I gave a shrug. "Not your fault." I sigh. I twirl my spear around in my hand as the solider and I began circling each other. The old man's glare got harsher as we didn't rush one another.

Finally, the solider rushed me. I moved to the left of his thrust and gave slash of my own against his back. The solider lost his balance and started to fall forward. His automatic reaction was to turn around and slash at me with his sword. I let him.

The sword passed through me. The solider seemed surprised by my lack of care. A growl emanated from the other side of the cavern.

"Wysandra!" The old man yelled at me. I turned around to find him directly behind me. With a wave of his hand, the solider disappeared. His eyes never left mine.

"What was that?" He growled softly.

"I know pointless training when I see it. I'm not likely to meet any Corrupts that can actually fight with a sword. And no one uses swords for battle anymore-"

"Are you questioning my training?" The old man growls again.

I glare back. "I already know how to dodge and use my spear. If someone does actually know how to use a weapon, I'll apply what I already know to that situation," I don't stray from the proximity of him.

The old man sighed and pulled back. "We're done today. Work on your techniques or get some sleep."

I sigh. "I have to ask something," I watch him as he headed back to the main room of the cavern.

"What about? And only if I get to ask you something as well," I followed him into our 'living room.' We lived in a hole on the side of a mountain. It used to be small, until the old man dug out the other rooms. It was remote, and no one found it unless you knew where it was.

The living room wasn't as big as the training room (which was about the size of an American football stadium), but it was the size of a relatively normal sized studio apartment. There was a blue rug under a mahogany coffee table that clashed with the orange-red walls. The other furniture (A couch, loveseat, and a few other chairs) were brown and surrounded the table. There was no need for a TV; you couldn't even get a service guy out here, much less a connection to any satellite orbiting the Earth. A small kitchen stood off to the side with a grey island and black round metal stools lined one side. Compared to the rest of the room, it looked far more modern.

"Sure, old man. You go first," I watched as he pulled out a drink from under the island.

"Why don't you call me by my name?" He popped open the lid and looked up at me.

I shrugged. "Your real name is my last name and if anyone calls me by my last name, we're bound to get confused." He nodded as I leaned on the counter. "By the way, did you have anything to do with the fact that I barely have any contact with the other Saiyans in my school?"

Monell's curious gaze turned back into a glare. "You shouldn't have any contact with them."

I groan. "Just because they are the protectors of the world and you don't get along with one of their fathers doesn't mean I have to suffer, too."

Monell sighed. "It's probably for the best that you don't speak to them. If they figure out that you're a Saiyan as well, it might result in unwanted attention. Besides," he finally took some of his drink. "You're going to spend the rest of your days alone fighting corrupted human souls that no one else can sense. There isn't any reason to create relationships."

I frown and sigh. "Thanks for the advice, Old Man."