The Horse with No Name

Chapter Forty-Six

Whetted Appetite

There is the rustling of fabric, all around, slapping against the wind as individual cloaks and capes alike applaud the scattering of ash. Shin is finally by Goku's side once more, still pale, still making peace with his fate as though he can't believe he's been spared once again.

Rixas clears his throat, pointedly.

"You could have just given him his end-of-week notice…"

Gohan doesn't so much as react.

Rixas sighs and palms the hilt of his sword, a goliath thing hiding in the holster. "I guess we all knew it was going to come to this."

The opposing chin rises, watching. "So you are refusing to give up the ball."

"Are you surprised, little brother?"

"No." His son's underlined eyes rotate onto Goku and then onto Piccolo before snapping back. "Though, such arrogance will bring upon needless casualties. Do you really believe —?"

"This is your doing."

"This is the Almighty's doing."

"Blood will be on your hands, Mori," Rixas snaps, "And only yours."

"Then that is the toll which must be paid."

So suddenly, Rixas bites out something in Lanit-Tongue, something harsh and fast and angry, and it's Goku who grasps at Rixas' shoulder when he goes to charge forward. Abuse follows as a torrent of frustration, emitting out like a geyser spraying forth hot air. Words barrel, louder and louder until Rixas is shouting into the wind. He gestures violently, spitting, until, when he's finally done, a chasm of silence takes hold once more.

Gohan might as well be staring at a brick wall. There's a listless, bored sort of fluidity to how he leans over to Quell, whispering.

"This is just sad, like watching a mutt cry for its missing littermates," Vegeta says, "Whatever you're saying won't get through to them, to him. Can't you see? The boy is gone – he'd have been better off dead than becoming this."

Shin makes a hissing noise and Rixas looks about ready to punch him. Goku's hand tightens against Rixas shoulder as he swallows his own urge to send Vegeta down.

It so turns out that he doesn't have to. Quell lets loose a bullet-fast shot of ki into Vegeta's gut; a warning shot, because Vegeta doesn't skid further back than a few feet, though he does intake a sharp breath.

Trunks takes a generous step away. "You deserved that."

"Do not make this any more difficult than it has to be," Quell tells, palm descending, to Rixas mostly. "Look what scourge you associate yourself with. Sentimental simpering will not do you any favours, brother, not when you choose the likes of this ilk over your own. Return home or I will force my hand – something we both do not want."

"Quell, please. This is ridiculous. You damn well know this isn't right. Do something!"

"Step aside, Rixas."

"Quell."

"Quell is doing what he believes is right," Goku intervenes, but then adds, "I suppose, in a way, we all are, right, Quell?"

Gohan puts a hand against Quell's arm, policing him backwards. "That," he stresses, soft, "Is something we agree on. I do not begrudge mortals for trying to keep a hold of what they believe is rightfully theirs. Subjugating is not without conflict after all, semantics and violence included. However, today, I will exact my duty."

"Is this all we are to you now, Gohan; mortals?"

"That doesn't matter now," he replies coolly, "This is about serving justice—"

"The Almighty, you mean," Piccolo snaps.

"That too."

"Gohan," Trunks calls out. All turn to him, Goku too, chest tight yet curious all the same. "I agree with what you're doing, with ki and stopping bad people using it against those weaker, and to face everyone like this and… and… yeah," he trails off when the weight of attention becomes too much. If he'd expected Gohan to open his arms up and welcome him into the fold then he'd been very wrong.

Instead, a rare streak of displeasure has Gohan's lip curl. "Go home, Trunks," he replies, low. "You don't need to die in the crossfire today. Think about your future."

"I don't plan on dying," Trunks returns, quickly brazen at the challenge, "I just want you to know not every mortal is against this."

Quell scoffs. "How astute of you, boy. Perhaps your pig-headed father can learn how to respect his betters in a similar manner to your own."

"There is nothing to respect," Vegeta bites, "Just a stupid boy and dizzy daydreams about a utopia that can't exist. I always knew you were foolishly overly optimistic like your father, Gohan, but I didn't realize you were just as if not more stupid. You should be ashamed of this. I'd always credited you as smart if not anything else."

Gohan holds a hand up when Quell goes to move. "The fact you credited me with anything other than dishonour is astounding enough in its own right, but today, you can credit me with mercy too. Take Trunks home, Vegeta. He's just a boy."

Trunks is affronted. "What?!"

"He's right," Goku urges. "Vegeta, let me take—"

"I just said I agreed with you, Gohan!"

"The boy can choose," Vegeta stubbornly returns, "That's something we allow here on Earth should you remember; choice to live as you please."

"Then I'm staying."

Goku wants to argue but in the end, Trunks is Vegeta's son, not Goku's. Mirroring disapproval faces Vegeta and Trunks from all angles – behind, even Eyrelle looks alarmed – and Gohan, for a time, watches with levelled frustration until he withdraws back into his empty stare.

"Very well. Then let's stop wasting time."

He jerks his head towards to Quell. Unspoken orders are communicated between the two because – in a flash and without further notice – Goku finds himself under siege. It's too sudden, so fast. Quell charges, blonde whipping behind, his cape trailing, as he curves a fist into Goku's cheek. He barely has time to react! The fabric of Quell's glove brushes against skin as Goku just about manages to bleed away, disappearing and reappearing steps away into a dusty stumble.

True to blood, Quell moves in the same way as his brothers. His manner of drive is aggressive, probably even more so than the others comparatively. He doesn't simply move; he rushes, he plunders the space around and charges with brutish aggression not suiting him at all. He's completely domineering, not only controlling the surrounding space but also the pressure. Damp air constricts, thinning, Goku's throat protests and his knees jerk in memory of the chokehold affect. Though, it's not enough to send him into a bow, not anymore. Goku growls, propelling a flash of ki – which should at least sting. Friction sparks sizzle around, diluted smoke rises. Thankfully, the ki banishes the encroaching pressure into obscurity, with the bonus of a second's breath whilst Quell readjusts for an alternative assault.

The world around is a blur. Gohan could be setting up for a picnic and Goku would be none the wiser. Avoiding Quell is a greedy and demanding task. Quell is a force his of own. He's a flurry of hostility. So understandably, it takes less than a few seconds for him to land a decent punch. Luckily, it isn't too bad. It catches Goku under the chin, upper cutting him high with the same decisive precision correspondingly found in his son's new and shiny style.

Goku hears the others shout his name – but he hasn't the time to even react. Quell is on him like a shark to blood.

Where Goku thought Quell might expect to see delight in finally being "allowed" to have at him there's only the glare of a predator; the royal beast, one freed and ravenous to spill Goku's guts along the dirt.

Without hesitation, Goku uses Instant Transmission the moment he tastes copper in his mouth.

Goku won't make the same mistake twice, he decides as he reappears half a mile wayward between sky-kissing mountains. Camouflaging rockery doesn't protect him for long but it's enough. Before Quell reaches him, he's now powered up to Super Saiyan God, and already, Goku wishes he had the time to reach the ascended form too.

Here we go.

Quell doesn't pause for the lightshow.

"You are a true detractor of divinity," he says, approaching. "You are a zealous worm with a taste for a life undeserved; truly, a creature with ambitions so rich and fortune so abhorrently bestowed that you blind even the most divine. That will not be the case with me, Goku Son – I will take great pleasure in executing you today."

"Wow. I didn't realize I made such an impact on you," Goku lies, satirical, grinning despite Quell's quickening pace. "I guess you're gonna' try and kill me anyway even though Rixas asked you all nice not to –woah!"

It's ki this time, and not the same jet which earlier struck Vegeta; fitting blusters of light shooting in quick succession, one after the other, birth into the wild. Goku feels the first explode the moment it kisses the fabric of his ki, the next two catch light immediately after and set off a chain reaction of incredibly flammable energy. It chases all the way back to Quell until he pushes out a larger, bulbous blob of aluminous orange.

"Disgusting," he sneers, freeing the ki regardless.

What the…?

Undoubtedly, the energy has a connection to him, as though it was one of Goku's own blasts gone askew. Did Quell absorb Goku's own ki? He hadn't even used it yet – not properly, at least. Just what sort of attacks does this guy have?

The ball bubbles as though it's taken the form of semi-solid soup. Steam hisses, the pops are audible. Goku tries to figure out what it's supposed to do, how it's supposed to harm him, because right now it does nothing of the sort; sitting there with its grotesque, stewing bubbles and an ominous ki signature.

Quell takes this moment to come for him once more. He tries for the throat first – Gohan's new, favourite habit– before accepting that he'll need a less direct approach.

There's a lack of finesse to how Quell moves, especially compared to Gohan. Where Gohan is a mountain stream and Rixas is a raging river, Quell is the ocean itself. He is brash and unapologetic. He wants to drown Goku whole.

And the sea is relentless. He's a machine. Goku needs desperately to transform again, to the ascended god form. If he's going to last longer than ten minutes then he's got to find a spare second to power up otherwise he's toast. He does try for Instant Transmission once more, with an unfortunate consequence. It gives Quell time to strike. When he snags at Goku's gi his face contorts with a nasty sort of happiness. The joy reaches gold as he spirals Goku around and in the direction of the gyrating blob of ki, thrusting him, fighting Goku's objection and sneering when Goku wiggles himself just enough to change course of their grapple.

Enflamed energy splashes as Goku continues on the back-foot. He's unable to even raise a fist without the risk of being struck or caught once more. Goku knows. One wrong move will have it end badly. Quell isn't as delicate as he looks for sure, and he has no intention in giving him a free shot to challenge that.

Goku recalls Rixas' anxiety in respect to Quell. Gohan, too, had been worried enough to hide things from him. This is the true beast. It'd never been Rixas.

Discomfort swirls in his belly because it is getting bad.

Goku needs to power up as soon as possible, but for that he needs at least a breath of time.

This is an unreasonable person, Goku reminds himself. It's not at the lack of trying to communicate, he's tried multiple times in fact, and even if Goku thought he saw some doubt there earlier after what happened with Zamasu, there's likely very little use in trying to reach out to him yet again. Goku doesn't have the ability to persuade a wall. He'd never be able to break through to this guy. The only thing he can offer Quell to make him happy is his own death.

And he won't be giving that if he can help it.

So with that logic, Goku's surprised when Quell initiates the conversation.

"Heretical deviation from his plight colours you bleakly, I'm afraid," Quell informs – whatever any of that means, "You are finally recognized for what you are. Nothing. To him, you are disposable now. I want you to die knowing that."

Goku, in spite of everything, laughs. "You don't really believe that, do you?"

Quell releases him, snarling. "Such arrogance."

Then Goku's world submerges in heat. The orange ball has crept upon him, bubbling and ready to pop – which it does, disastrously so and with such flare that Goku's momentarily blinded by its reach. It's not like dealing with a Solar Flare – a painless affair in comparison – the burn of the ki licks along all Goku's arm, taking several layers of skin and then some. The gurgling energy latches to him, not at all simmering but instead swallowing the flesh, growing, burbling with fire and ripping Goku's voice from his throat. He screams. The energy refuses to leave him and as a result it burns on and on. Orange meets orange when the ki starts eating the fabric of the gi; a famished creature of its own.

So Goku does only what he knows, he follows his gut. There's another scream, this time guttural – meaningful in a call for his own energy. Red blasts forth and Quell's ocean waves are carved, and the orange of the nasty attack burns so hot so suddenly that it seems to kill it in one.

But man, this isn't good.

Quell is scarily offensive. Before the beast can retaliate once more, Goku makes a move of his own – and not a physical one.

"Do you really want to prove yourself superior, Quell?" Goku goads, "That's what this is all about, isn't it?"

Blonde batters about the wind, and those gold eyes shine sporadically from behind the strands as Quell envisions ripping him to pieces.

"This is about half of what I can do," Goku continues when Quell doesn't act on his desires, "Right now, we both know you could take me down pretty easily."

"I dare not believe it," he says dryly, "You can offer more than this tawdry red paintjob?"

"Oh, much more. This is just the beginning."

"Super Saiyan God," Quell stickily quotes, disgust apparent, "Is what Mori called it – a pinnacle form of your people. There is not another peak beyond this, no mountains to climb. What do you take me for?"

"No-uh. This is just the first stage," Goku educates, almost airily, "Gohan doesn't know about the next – he never got to achieve it on Earth. He thinks that this is my strongest form." He smirks. "But it's not. I'm not scared of you, Quell, not when I can reach a level beyond anything you can do."

It's a large brag, likely incorrect.

Quell's jaw clenches but the curiosity has him.

Goku continues to reel his fish. "So how about you let me power up? Don't you want to show him that you can beat me at my best?"

Quell's attention draws somewhere over Goku's shoulder, to Gohan and the others, to where Goku needs to be. The cogs are moving around in his head. He looks torn, frustrated even.

Quell wants the fight. If Goku can see one thing then it's that. Continuing his slow reeling, as though dealing with Vegeta, Goku lets the words trickle free, wearing cockiness as comfortably as his own singed gi.

"What is it? Are you too worried that things won't turn out how you want 'em to if we fight proper?" Goku taunts, "Scared I'll be too strong?"

"I'm sorry, what?" It's an unexpected reaction which follows. "You… You really are brain addled. Do you honestly believe you could attempt to manipulate me into—?"

"So you don't wanna' fight me?"

Quell's face becomes pinched.

"Is Gohan not letting you or—?"

"Shut up," he snaps, "Do not assume things."

He can be read so easily though. Quell, usually a guarded person by all accounts, has been a glass wall his entire time here. Call it inspiration, call it whatever, but Goku feels like he should at least try with the guy; so, tongue cemented to the roof of his mouth, he attempts the impossible.

"You…" he begins so very slowly, "With Zamasu… I know you didn't like what you saw. You —"

"Zamasu was served comeuppance. I could not have been made more content with his demise," he lies – and well, at that – with a nose pointing high, "The fact Mori turned the execution into a lesson for you mortals was, what is the expression? Ah, the cherry on top."

"We both know that that's not true."

"Tch! Tell me. How was it to see your precious boy murder right befo—?"

"Quell, c'mon. If you care about him as much as I think you do then you'll help put a stop to all this. Revelation aside, he's just… not right. He's talking funny. There's something off – you can see it – that he's in way too deep, like—"

"He's fine," Quell stresses, "Do not talk like you know him."

"Of course I know him. Look, I'm real sorry but like it or not it, he's my son. I raised that boy. I love him, and I wouldn't ever stop loving him even if he killed me here today. That… I know that's something you can understand… unconditional love. I know he tried to do that to you way back then but you forgave him – because you love him." Quell's eyes blaze something fierce at the reference, and Goku meets the heat with a fire his own. "The odds are stacked against me but I'll be damned if I didn't try and bring my kid to his senses, because I love him too."

"…You are doing it for your own skin, Goku," Quell says, "Do not pretend you are not against the movement."

"I don't want Revelation, sure, but more so, I just want Gohan back – not even at home on Earth, if he doesn't want that, just back to his normal self – to whatever person he's become – and away from all this… this craziness. And yeah, I'll fight against Revelation. I won't lie. But Gohan is my first priority after what I just saw back there. Wouldn't you say, in that regard, we can at least agree on that?"

Yet the jerk is stubborn to his core. Hatred rules him so much so that he looks constipated at thought of even agreeing with Goku. Quell's lip curl, steps are retreated.

"…Transform," he orders after a beat, "Mori can witness true greatness as I destroy his decrepit mortal roots."

Whilst being given the time to transform had been his original goal, Goku can't help but feel defeated in hitting a barrier at this hurdle, it'd been just a moment but he felt he'd been actually getting somewhere with Quell – just a little.

"All right then," Goku sighs.

It's under that golden scrutiny in which he lowers into position; arms poised, core ready.

Okay, it's time to show everyone what I'm bringing to the table.

Or it would have been if not for the latest arrival.

"Not yet," Rixas breathes, harsh, with the weight of having rushed to his side once more. He's already equipped his sword but hasn't looked to have used it just yet, meaning that Gohan's not yet made a move over there. Rixas drags Goku upwards. "We gotta' leave some surprises for Mori."

"Ample timing once again," Quell applauds dryly, "Is this your damsel, Rixas? You seem awfully protective."

Rixas raises the sword. "Goku doesn't need protecting," he says, "'Just a little help now and then."

"Both of you… against me? How unorthodox of you, brother. Where is your pride?"

"Where is yours?" Rixas returns, "Did you like that little power display from our beloved baby brother? Did his warning reach your ears? I certainly heard it."

Quell's hand cinders white and within its grip forms a sword of its own, white and dangerous and in perfect comparison to the sneer above. "Do not conflate things," he snarls, brandishing the blade. "Do you truly want this conflict between us? Really, Rixas? Do you?"

Goku doesn't want to get in the middle of this if he can help it. Gohan is still back there with the others. Nothing's happened yet so maybe he can just… He veers backwards, slowly taking to the sky. The ki blast to follow bursts along Goku's back, licking sharply and sending him back to the dirt.

"I did not give you permission to leave," Quell says, "And Rixas so helpfully came to assist you, too. You're not going to turn your back on him, are you?"

Goku splutters a laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Being caught up in a divine domestic seems like a sure-fire way to get killed. Why's he even here anyway?

"Ah, I see. Gohan wants me outta' the way," he realizes, "So you've been tasked with the dirty deed of snuffing me? You've gotta' keep me away from whatever he's doing over there huh?"

Quell smiles darkly at the honour.

A thunderous rip above breaks the moment in two, the occasional spittle of rain fattens into fleets of thickened droplets. The sky mourns, grey as ever, as beyond, back with Gohan, darkness spreads out like dye to water. It's a familiar smoky residue to bleed out, falling unnaturally into a dome-like shape before falling out of eye-range completely.

Whatever the Zealites are up to can't be good.

He shouldn't leave the others for too long. They're outmatched, horrifically so.

Gohan… won't kill them… right?

His chest lumbers and he forces his attention back on the hazard at hand. Quell meets his gaze, smiling coldly. "I am ever so curious about your next form," he purrs, "Do not let Rixas stop you now, Goku Son. You have promised me the world."

Goku's breath hitches. "Rixas, the others—"

"Goku, move!"

Ivory slices air, vicious. And a fleck of red casts out when Goku's not fast enough; the nick on his chin dribbles, cutting red into the dirt, diluting with the wet of the rain.

"Can you afford to look elsewhere?" Quell taunts, churning the blade upwards and clashing steel when the sword meets Rixas'. "And you, I give you this last chance before I bring you home broken and defeated."

Rixas growls, throwing his weight into the blade and pushing Quell back. "Quell uses diversions to throw you off-guard," he says to Goku, fast, as though Goku hadn't just experienced this first-hand ten minutes ago, "Watch around you. He likes to use his energy to set traps – it's his way of testing how you move. Don't give yourself away."

Quell's sword reaches Goku before he does. It swerves into half a moon, making Goku jump and then duck when it returns overhead. He tries to stay aware of his surroundings. He tries to watch for another ki blast like that gloopy orange one.

Quell's attention is all for Goku. He comes at Goku with pivotal slices, missing by fractions until, finally at one point, he manages to slice entire chunks of Goku's hair into the wind.

"Thankfully," Rixas' massive sword carves downwards between the two, though the incident nearly cuts Goku's toes free in the process. Why the heck is he using that thing? It's dangerous! Rixas has smaller swords – he's seen them!

"Rixas!" he yelps when the sword takes a second bite.

Luckily, Goku is faster than Rixas – and even Quell – when they both have their swords in play, but both prove more deadly with them than without. He finds himself dodging continuously as steel kisses ring out. The reduction in vision is alarming and makes it ever harder to keep up; rain now falls in hushing sheets, turning the sky white and then transparent, and pelting in various directions when the swords sent them asunder.

Goku wants his own sword even though he wouldn't know how to use it. There's something ridiculous in coming to a sword fight equipped with just fists.

It's with great fortune that he comes to understand why Rixas brought that goliath hunk of steel. There's an initial pang of metal and then – crack – a decaying line in the white when the mighty great sword strikes with too much vigour. The snowfall of Quell's steel is cremation into the weather; barely the hilt and a fraction of the blade has survived, yet that doesn't stop Quell. He doesn't balk at the loss.

Spinning, wet blonde slaps against his skin as he brings down a well-aimed heel. It's not against Goku, but the blade to have ruined his own. Immediately, the beast is downed, snapped in two equal halves.

There's a second to admire his handiwork, and then Quell scrapes back his hair, pulling it into a bun. "What a waste..."

Rixas throws down his hilt, turning to Goku and jerking his head.

Throat knotted, Goku nods back. It's time to see what Quell can really do.

The smoky dome isn't dark inside only thanks to Gohan. Manifested flames of ki illuminate the dungeon's husk, casting long, flickering shadows along the floor and up its curvature. Within, it's ominous, Gohan admits. It hadn't been his intention but at least the outside spittle has been pushed out; really, the outside has been pushed outside.

Golden eyes trail over each of his attendees. Eyrelle is by his side as is her duty, Byleath is outside as his. Shin, Kibito, Piccolo and undesirably Trunks stand within Gohan's confines; tense, nervous – as is rightfully so, and in wait for the next move. As to be expected, Vegeta isn't taking too kindly to his prison, blasting at it with his usual unrelenting frustration at the world. Gohan watches him for a short time, trying not to bask in the petty satisfaction of Vegeta being at his mercy.

"There's no use, Vegeta," Piccolo snaps, "It's impenetrable."

"Dad, give it up."

He does eventually, spinning on his heel and approaching Gohan. A little fear is always healthy, so Gohan demonstrates why that may be a bad idea. Before Vegeta can so much as lay a finger on him, he's manifested the Z Sword and angled it at an upward point into Vegeta's chest.

"Be careful!" Shin cries out, recognizing the dangers of the sword, of course remembering his destroyed brethren.

"Yes," Gohan agrees, "Be careful."

Vegeta slaps the blade aside. "You snake," he hisses, "How does it feel to be betraying your people for your own twisted beliefs? Like Hell I'm going to take this lying down from some kid. Like Hell you're going to take what I earned away!"

"A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion," Gohan says, twisting the sword to his side and planting the tip into the dirt. "Surely you are no fool, Vegeta. Perhaps it's time we talk without," – his eyes gaze in the direction beyond the dome – "distractions.

"I'll give you the chance to willingly hand over the dragon ball before I have to resort to unsavoury methods. Believe what you will but I don't want it to come to bloodshed should it not have to."

"You'll never find the ball," Vegeta returns, his usual audacity twisting his sneer into a smirk. "And don't think you can intimidate me, boy. I remember when you about near soiled yourself the first time we met, and the wet-behind-the-ears brat who barely survived Namek."

Gohan also recalls having saved Vegeta's life against Cell, and then the years he gave to Trunks growing up. None of it matters now.

"I'm giving you the last chance to tell me the whereabouts of the final dragon ball," Gohan announces to the small group, stepping around Vegeta and towards the others, hands empty and raised. "Do this and I promise I won't darken Earth's doorway again. Do this and you will live. Do this and I can attest to you a better tomorrow for humanity and beyond.

"Supreme Kai, I'll offer you what I offered last time we spoke; your promised survival and a leading seat in a reformed Council despite working against me throughout this endeavour – which I always found strange because you're not a person of reactionary value, you must see the benefits of my plight."

The Supreme Kai, whether to his credit or detriment, doesn't look deterred. "I… appreciate the value you see in me, Lord Mori, but my values are aligned against this Revelation. Whilst it's… regrettable that I stand against you, I must."

"Supreme Kai," Kibito breathes, horrified, "Do not pay such lip service! He murdered the Cou—"

"I stand by what I say," he attests, expression firm. "There is a good person in you, Lord Mori, marred by whatever you're allowing yourself to become. Gohan Son still lives somewhere within. I want you to remember that I said this to you today."

Gohan doesn't like the tone, but more so he doesn't like yet another rejection. "I see," he says simply, before raising his hand high, not towards Shin but towards Kibito. "Then let's walk the path of the unsavoury."

Kibito impressively doesn't move away. It's Shin who makes a noise, but it's Piccolo who dares to snatch at Gohan's arm.

"Stop it!" he barks, jerking it lower.

"Are you going to tell me where the ball is, Piccolo?"

"Gohan…" Piccolo stares at him, truly so. There's fury to his energy, fear too. Yes… They've always been in tune since Gohan's childhood training, since the day Piccolo stole him and made him a fighter. Today, Gohan feels the anxiety thrum along their connection – it's almost sweet. "You… W-What have you…? What's wrong with you?"

Of course Piccolo would be the one to notice a difference.

There's a whoosh of energy from behind. Vegeta' patience has worn thin.

"Just give him the damn ball," Trunks bites out in contrast, "You said so yourself that we're outmatched!"

"Have some pride, boy," Vegeta snipes, the swirling of ki around climbing so high it presses against the rooftop. It sparks in protest at the containment. "Don't you care about your power at all?"

"No!"

"Then why waste my time in that blasted room?" Vegeta snarls, likely referring to the Room of Spirit and Time – which would explain Trunks' sudden growth spurt.

Yes. Trunks is stronger than Gohan remembers; stronger but not strong. The effort has been made, although it won't make a difference against Gohan – or his father should he try his hand (depending on his queer allegiance). It would be simple if Trunks had been trusted with the ball's whereabouts, if he'd been smart enough to keep his opinions close to his chest and hidden enough for him to be clued in.

So unfortunately, Trunks' use is very limited.

Still, Trunks understands the benefits to Gohan's Revelation in ways so few do. "Power is needed for control," Gohan answers on behalf of Trunks, "I thought you'd be aware of such a fact, Vegeta. It's the currency used to control this existence, one that's out-dated and about to be abolished in how we know it today."

"Like fuck it is," he snarls.

"Be reasonable," Gohan berates, "My finding the dragon ball is an inevitability, and as soon as the ball is sourced I'll make my wish. We both know you won't be able to hold a candle to my—"

"Try me!"

The ground shakes before the current of ki picks up, battering against the smoky dome and its grasp upon the earth it sits on. Gohan's flames flicker like televisions of old and darkness finds them on the fritz. Orange flashes and disappears behind the white of Vegeta's energy, obscurity eclipses with each breath.

It's all rather impressive considering Vegeta's prior performances. Gohan feels levity once not there. As the saiyan's throat rips with screams of ascension, rocks and sand debris dance wildly, some crumbling into fragments sharp. The others have bounced backwards, arms covering their faces from the whirlwind – Gohan has not, he stands there and disintegrates the rubble before it makes contact, watching with admitted curiosity as Vegeta's hair tips flicker red.

Gohan knows he hasn't attained the form. It's impossible. There aren't enough saiyans for the ritual – and he's proven correct when the red doesn't dye the hair further along – the eyes remain pitifully black, not a slither of divinity can be felt. This bastard variant holds not at all against his father's Super Saiyan God.

Vegeta's apparently soon done. Rock fall rains and he looks entirely too pleased with himself – which he shouldn't be because, whilst likely Vegeta cannot feel it, Gohan can; the unnatural strain of the partial transformation. Energy is in limbo. Whatever Vegeta has achieved feels undone.

Red and white zap at the black walls. Cracks appear in the mould before dyeing onyx once more. Though… perhaps Vegeta could break out of this prison should he be given the opportunity. That's the one and only risk.

The others are watching, helplessly, hopelessly. They know it won't be enough.

"Dad!" Trunks hollers, "Stop it!"

"I refuse to stand by!" Vegeta shouts, more at Gohan than Trunks. The criss-cross flame of ki hitches as he throws the winter garments aside, revealing his statement jumpsuit. "You, Gohan," he sneers, "or Mori or whatever you want to call yourself will never understand. You're the same as Kakarot! You've never had to work for what you have, not in the same way people like me or the boy over there have to – we earn our strength off the back of our own work ethic! There was no natural gift. There was no godly magic or whatever thrust upon us!

"I've spent my entire life building to what I am now, and this power is a part of my identity in a way every true saiyan would understand!

"This is my heritage! This is everything up until now… and you want to take it?" Fists clench, a finger gestures forward. "I don't give a fuck what job you think you've got. My lifetime is not yours to take!"

"So… You'd rather be here and fight for your power than be home, safe, with your family."

"I've never left them, not once, unlike you and your father."

Gohan's impassivity is tested. There's a twitch in his shoulder he refuses to react on. The mortals will say whatever they can to deter him.

"Dad, please!"

"Be quiet!"

Eyrelle, who's remained silent, meek even, up until that moment, reminds Gohan that's she's indeed at his heel in wait for his word. "My lord," she says in Lanit-Tongue, "Beyond the barrier, Lord Quell has created a rift. The conflict with Rixas is detrimental to this planet. Should we remain too long then the pressure will overstrain the energy balance of the planet and it will collapse inwards on itself."

Gohan's gaze falls upon Shin. Being Kai means he can also sense beyond Byleath's prison. Indeed, he looks worried.

Really, how incompetent can Quell be? It is simple enough not to destroy a planet.

Gohan summons the Z Sword. "Then I'll make this quick."

"Gohan!" Trunks calls out, "Please! G-Gohan, come on. He's an idiot – don't take him seriously!"

Piccolo's holding Trunks by the arm like the good babysitter he is, his face thunder, his expression daring Gohan to push this further.

When Vegeta charges at him it's actually much simpler than Gohan had expected it to be to cut him. It's like slicing warm butter. So slickly, the blade glides through the tanned, scared skin coating the arm, rutting against bone and then chipping into it until Vegeta waspishly pulls back. Blood is the only thing to strike Gohan; hot and not his own, it bleeds into the black of his cloak.

Vegeta skids in opposition. The wound is apparent. Red flees in streams along the skin yet that doesn't stop him. Gohan expects the first punch and then the second, which is followed by a predictable feint. With the hilt of the sword he catches Vegeta in the rips when he materializes there, deep enough to emit a grunt but not deep enough that Gohan cannot manoeuvre the sword swiftly. He waits for Vegeta to pull back as it provides the best conditions for a cleaner follow up attack, and then spins the sword as to nick him in the exact place to have struck him.

If it hurt, Vegeta doesn't show it. He's already pushing forward, striking with every available limb and pushing Gohan backwards towards a side of the dome. Not yet has Gohan done much beyond simple retaliation, only if because he feels Vegeta is doing all the work for him. This slow, awkward stumble of a style reminds Gohan of fighting Rixas many years ago when he'd go easy on him. It's blocky and without finesse, it's perfect for Gohan to stab his sword right through the middle of it.

"Learned some new tricks, I see," Vegeta comments, breathing hitched.

"You're outmatched," Gohan replies, bored. "Is your pride really worth your life?"

Vegeta doesn't like that. His hand-to-hand isn't very effective against a sword however, though more so it's not effective against Gohan, who's faster on his toes because simply, he's the better fighter. Talent or skill or whatever Vegeta wants to blame it on, his longer fighting experience will not take him to victory.

He is destined to lose.

This dog will fight him until the end nonetheless. Gohan will probably have to put him down.

Vegeta hasn't landed a single punch in his onslaught. He's breathing like a woman in labour, breaking backwards to take a moment to self-manage his wound. It's bleeding pretty awfully now. What a nasty cut.

By Gohan's side, Eyrelle appears. "My lord, the Earth outside is quaking. The pressure is thinning the oxygen levels to eco hazardous levels."

He nods, and then throws the sword.

It lands, point first into Vegeta's shoulder and then into the dirt behind, restraining him in a pooling calamity of his own blood. There's a childish pleasure at seeing the man squirm. Something dark within enjoys the hatred now; after months of accepting Vegeta's belittling, the turnabout revenge is oddly fulfilling in a way Gohan's never once experienced since Cell all those years ago.

Gohan saunters over, easily avoiding the pathetic ki blasts. Vegeta sends them out; the lethargic bullets that they are. The last Gohan bats out of the way just because he can.

Awkwardly, the sword wriggles free after a jostle. Vegeta groans as the steel leaves him, the red of his hair soon follows. How anticlimactic this form turned out. Gohan hadn't even needed to power up.

"The dragon ball," Gohan says, nudging Vegeta's chin with the point of the blade.

When Vegeta tries to swipe Gohan's feet, the blade slides downwards, resting at the artery beside the groin. One cut there would have him bleed out very quickly. The warning point teases the fabric there.

It's almost impressive how stubborn Vegeta is. He shifts suddenly and the Z Sword cuts into him – not where the artery is – and he's able to finally land a kick against Gohan's thigh, dislodging the sword and pushing himself backwards – but it's not enough.

Gohan decides to cut a tendon for the misdemeanour. Vegeta hisses, curling onto his side.

"This is not my first time," Gohan admits lowly. "You can tell me where the ball is now, or I can unstitch you, bit by bit, until you do."

"Y-You haven't the stomach for— argh!"

Gohan goes for the sciatic nerve next, the one on the fleshy part of the thigh poised right under his nose.

"Dad!" Trunks calls out. He's fighting against Piccolo, woefully shouting over and over. Good. Perhaps Vegeta will listen if his son begs loud enough. "TELL HIM!"

Soft. That's Vegeta had called Gohan back in the day. Is he still soft? Gohan will do anything he needs to get his answer, even if he has to skewer everyone under this dome.

"Is it on Earth?" Gohan asks, "Do I need to go to the Lookout?"

Vegeta is silent, so Gohan cuts him again.

"Urgh…"

"Capsule Corporation?"

Oh, he's not silent. He's murmuring – ah.

And then Vegeta is around, flat on his back, purple poised above. His face is wrought, ugly and wet with perspiration. "Galick Gun, FI—!"

The energy wave births the room purple, stealing the dark – only for a moment, for Gohan stomps the ki out like flame under a boot, capturing the heat and swallowing it into his own stores. The attack burns in his hand as it contorts it into clean, recycled energy which Gohan immediately projects upwards as his very own firework. The explosion is pretty but that's all it is.

Gohan cuts him again.

"Outside, my brothers are fighting," he tells Vegeta as he growls and groans and mutters, "The pressure from Quell alone is enough to destroy the planet. The longer you keep me here, the higher chance the world outside could become nigh. Not only is your pride killing you but also the people outside these walls. Don't you have a daughter?"

Livid. Instantly, Vegeta's eyes become ice. "D-Don't you fucking talk about—!"

"Bulla will die because you care more about your heritage than you do your lineage."

"I'll kill you – argh!" His head flays backwards, spittle and blood in its wake.

Gohan trails the sword languidly, wondering where to cut next. "Do you have the ball to hand?" he marvels aloud, "It's small enough to conceal. I made it so."

"I d-don't have it," Vegeta manages.

"One of you must," Gohan laments quietly, returning his attention to the others way further back. "I could ask Trunks..."

"He doesn't know anything! You damn well know that!"

"But you know."

Vegeta's horror warps the arrogance away. "Y-You—"

The Z Sword, all red and shiny, finds its place right under the chin. "Give me the ball, Vegeta."

"—EAM CANNON!"

Gohan hasn't the time to defend himself. He'd barely heard the end of it, craning a neck just in time to see the familiar yellow beam aim true. There's an explosion and the fire of it burns a portion of Gohan's outer cloak to ashes, even managing to singe the skin beneath. There's no burning sensation though. Gohan had felt it as a sharp scratch and little more – quite possibly it would have been a blow if served by a stronger warrior, but that's not the case.

Gohan chucks the ruined cloak to the ground and faces his latest protestor.

"Look at what… you're becoming," Piccolo reprimands. He's panting from the attempt. "You… are not this… You are not a monster… Gohan."

A monster…

Gohan's seen monsters, true monsters that do monstrous things for monstrous reasons, selfishly and evilly, and not at all divine. Mortals cannot understand.

Speaking of the weak minded… he spots Eyrelle no longer within reach. Shin has made his way over to her and they talk – likely about her betrayal or the fight beyond the barrier – and they whisper and prove Gohan right that no one is to be trusted.

He'll do whatever he needs to. No one will betray him again. Zamasu was the example to all it applied to. Whatever seedy shenanigans he'd been up to will serve no one!

Vegeta slinks forward when Gohan removes the sword. "I have killed for less," he spits, "Doesn't that already constitute me as a villain in both of your eyes? Revelation—"

"Remember who you're talking to," Piccolo returns, snapping, "Vegeta has killed more than you ever have as Gohan, I'm sure, and who I was before you came into my life was hardly any better. Even if you want to serve Revelation you can still serve your own principles! Cutting Vegeta up into ribbons is not you!"

…It's a nice speech but the sheep have no sway over the wolf.

Gohan plunges the sword into Vegeta's thigh before Piccolo can reach him. The cry is wet.

Piccolo's next energy blast is quickly absorbed and sent back at him, only scarcely missing, being curved around by the extendable, rubbery limbs namekian bodies are famed for. It's by mistake that Gohan captures the wrist, forgetting the bendable nature, and curls it backwards without hearing the satisfying click of a broken bone. Piccolo is rewarded when he's able to kick Gohan away into a skid along the dirt. The sword clatters.

It's more than what Vegeta was able to do, power be damned.

"Something's changed about you."

Gohan calls back his sword, golden eyes darkening. "The Earth will reach its end if the fight outside continues. I could put a stop to it. All I'd need to do is leave and order Quell down, but I won't until I have my dragon ball. You care about Earth, Piccolo. Will you really see it fall because you won't give up something not rightfully yours in the first place?"

Piccolo actually sniggers. "Don't bother with all that, Gohan. I don't even know where the ball is."

The grip on the hilt tightens. Gohan's jaw clenches. He doubts very much Piccolo is lying – he'd know. So the only people here who are aware of the ball's whereabouts are (likely) Shin, possibly Kibito and Vegeta.

God, why would they trust Vegeta – of all people – with such a thing?

Gohan turns to look at the saiyan, unsurprised but pleased to see Trunks at his side – it makes it easier than hunting him down. Currently, he's trying to hurl his father upwards, failing miserably as Vegeta shoves him away, barking incoherent orders.

When he notices Gohan approach, the teenager stands to attention. "Gohan," he whispers, "Please… He's still my dad…"

Piccolo knows that Gohan isn't there for Vegeta.

"Don't do it!" he yells.

Trunks freezes as the blade ascends in his wake. "Vegeta," Gohan feels his mouth saying of its own accord, something in him now running very, very cold. Blue, wobbling eyes lock with his own golden ones whilst the steel climbs between them. "The dragon ball. Now."

Trunks realizes soon enough. "G-Gohan… What are you–?"

The comforting numbness lodges in his throat as something else, perhaps ice with how shivers run down his spine – with how sharp and painful it suddenly is.

Nothing can stop Revelation, not even Gohan's own feelings.

He doesn't have feelings.

Gohan threw them away.

He threw himself away for this – for Revelation.

The blade shakes yet it doesn't deter from flesh. Trunks' intake of breath is enough to make Vegeta finally react, to –

That's when the sky starts to fall down.

Fighting Quell is equivalent to fighting a storm itself. He's everywhere all at once, flurried in how he hurricanes from one spot to the next like practiced chaos; completely unpredictable in how the wind blusters, cutting upon hitting you – and Goku's taken a few. Rixas presents himself a fantastic person to partner alongside. It's not like teaming up with Vegeta or Piccolo, two people who think exceedingly differently to Goku. There's a deep wealth of experience that must have come from all his centuries of fighting. Rixas must have stood alongside countless warriors. He knows how to mould himself around them – which is great because the wrong footing would bring Goku a quick death.

Rixas bounces between rock formations, crumbling them and sending the debris high, building smoke and worsening visibility all the more as Goku dances about the weather. Quell's attention is focused on him. He brings a rainfall of assault, casting punches, one after the other, in ambition of breaking Goku's nose. He definitely would have already done as much if not for Rixas breaking the momentum. As Goku struggles in his current state, salvation only comes when Rixas intervenes by jutting against Quell or sending strikes of his own.

It continues on. Quell's pressure mounts, on and on does the energy whir and send cracks along the sopping ground. Strings of mud keep the dirt connected as it vibrates. It spits brown sludge upwards, it sucks at Goku's boots as he trudges. It's a filthy fight – and not just by ways of the terrain. Quell is horrendously shameless. Below the belt, hair pulling, backstabbing – should Goku give him the chance then he'd do the lot of it. When Goku ducks from one very nasty kick, Quell is already onto the next move, a surprising take of scooping the aforementioned dirt up and launching it northwards. Goku sees the mudslinging and nearly gawks, but doesn't thankfully and turns his head just in time to see the splatter of brown coat Rixas' face.

It's all Quell needs. He instantly backhands Goku downwards, cutting through the mud and rockery and whatever else is there until there's a loud explosion. His body stings at the impact, though no more than his face which feels now to be home to a swinging jaw. It's once again assaulted when Quell follows him down, punching over and over, landing clean hits and making Goku's head spin so violently that he may very well be sick.

He needs to transform. Right now.

But… Quell is too strong.

Goku splutters when Quell's fist curls into his abdomen.

"Disappointing," Quell sneers. He pulls back, admires his hand with a strange fondness, before then backhanding Goku yet again. "So surprisingly delicate."

"Ugh!" Gosh, his neck feels about ready to snap. "C-Can't say the same about you," Goku gets out wetly, stumbling back.

"You won't be saying much at all soon enough, Goku Son."

Rain soaks into his mouth, spilling the thinned coppery taste. It's true. Without transforming, Goku is as good as dead.

Rixas is back before further words are shared. He's sodden and filthy, and pretty angry too. His knee comes down with such might against Quell's back that the entire land mass seems to shake. A crunch echoes out, carrying – making Goku cringe; it's the first good hit against Quell yet.

"Don't," Rixas breathes out, haggard, watching Quell pierce the ground below. "You transform now… before fighting Mori… he'll plot against you."

Goku nods. "Right."

"Secrets… and… Oh, man, fuck." He leans against Goku, smearing him grimy. "Listen. You… Against Quell… T-Too much defending.""

"I can't take him on without transforming."

"You gotta'!"

Goku releases a deeply held breath. Quell is stronger, smarter and far more experienced. The prospect would be exciting if not for the circumstances of the fight. He looks over to the black dome. Gohan's still in there…

"Spirit Tomb," Rixas then says, eyes brightening.

"Ah?"

"Spirit Tomb! Your attack! You can do that whilst I – woah, here he comes! Do the thing!"

Vigilant, Rixas meets the silver blur zigzagging from out the clawed rocks with his own charge, launching himself downwards into opaque, mucky oblivion. Like spittle, colourful jets of energy are spat out from the cavern into the rain; they're almost too shiny to look at compared to the saturated mountain scape. And when an explosion does happen, Goku has to look away in fear of his eyes drying out from the brightness; they sting at the witnessing of colours he feels he's never yet seen.

Truly, Quell's use of ki is unlike anything Goku's ever seen before.

If it wasn't so appalling it'd be beautiful.

Though, that doesn't mean Goku's without his own tricks.

His hands clasp together above his head.

Spirit Bomb… That's what Rixas wants, is it? Well then, that's coming right up. It's not like Goku can do much else right now so if Rixas thinks a Spirit Bomb might make a difference then it's definitely worth a shot.

Yet… it kind of feels a bit early in the game to be doing this... The Spirit Bomb was never the first go-to, but rather the final desperate move when hope is at its thinnest. Using it now just feels a little… wrong…?

The familiar drawing of energy heats his hands. It's an attack filled with warmth and kindness – it's born from true, inherent goodness of the soul, and of course from the generosity of those all around, of creatures small and big, of the giving.

To be using this attack against Gohan's forces feels…

He swallows, pressing forward anyway.

Earth offers so much of her life to Goku, readily trusting him, feeding the ball of glowing, growing blue-white. The Spirit Bomb feels feather light whilst perpetually anchoring. Weighted responsibility never fails to feel intimidating to the touch, especially now, especially as the cracks with jittering lines beneath.

Rixas cuts along the dirt, following this trail. Quell follows just as fast, his knee burying into Rixas' gut and earning splattered red across the cheeks. He's grimacing so much that it looks like a smile. There's panting. His chest rises and falls with the beat of the wind.

"Y-You will never be stronger than me, brother. Oh—" He catches the fist before swinging his own, cracking the jaw. "Tch. This is over."

Well, this is as good time as ever to let it fly.

Goku groans, throwing the Spirit Bomb true. Blue breathes life into the dismal grey around. It's heavenly almost, floating like clouds, swimming through the rain, into the direction of the brothers. Quell's fast but the circumference of the energy runs too wide, it pulls too strongly – the orbit is consuming – and so he hasn't the time to evade.

Rixas, too, finds himself victim.

It'd been a decision Goku knowingly made. Rixas would want this… Unfortunately, that doesn't make it less painful. The scalding heat from the radius frazzles the rain, instantly bringing upon pockets of concentrated hot air. It thunders loudly. Even the rain struggles to shout over it, with it now hollering against the streaking light and pandemonium, striking with fat, angry pelts.

Goku keeps back from the storm. The humidity is difficult to swallow, and the raw energy of it feels like being grazed with threatening knives from head to toe.

He pants, waiting, sodden.

It wouldn't have finished Quell off – not at all, not whilst Goku stands merely as a Super Saiyan God and nothing more.

Pressure… Goku feels it, growing ever so slowly like a shadow creeping in the morning sun. As the torrential rain starts to clear and the smoke simmers, the blonde appears first, unkempt from the knotted bun it'd earlier been pulled into. It's now windswept, guarding those furious golden eyes like a most terribly kept secret. How they burn. The gold crackles.

Goku refuses to buckle under the stare.

Of course, Quell is unpredictability not only protective of Gohan but also of Rixas. He's stood in front of him, his arms now by his side – though they were definitely raised above in defence with how charred they are – his cloak entirely ruined, his gloves destroyed. Though otherwise, Quell doesn't look like to have taken as much damage as Goku would have liked. The wounds are practically minor compared to the garments. Grazes and burns won't slow him down.

Really?! What does Rixas expect Goku to do against this? He needs to ascend!

When Quell makes a move towards him, Rixas grabs at his ankle. He hurls Quell around like a rag doll, slamming him into the ground behind; earning a surface level injury at best.

"I've gotta' transform!" Goku hollers, frustrated.

Rixas lumbers to his side. "No, you don't! Make another one of those balls!"

"They can't just be 'made'!"

"Try again!"

"You don't understand!" Goku tries to reason, "Not all ki attacks are – your right!"

In fact, it's Goku's right. Quell has summoned sizzling, spitting blades of energy in both hands, positioning them in an erratic rhythm alongside one another as they try to take a good chunk of Goku's head off. The blades can't be longer than your usual daggers (not that Goku has a lot of experience there), yet they feel ceaselessly reaching, managing to slice clumps of his hair free as Goku sidesteps.

Rixas does manage to snap a hold of one arm. Goku, in the bedlam, grabs the other and together they manage to finally put Quell into a bind. He doesn't like it one bit. He's pivoting his body with great might, thrusting and yanking at his arms with enough fervour that he might escape on pure ambition alone.

Goku finally feels like they're getting somewhere – until the bare skin under his fingers begin to burn. The pale arm is no longer that. It's pink, rosy even, glowing with its heat until red splotches formulate under Goku's fingertips.

"Argh!"

It's Rixas who pulls away first, leaving Quell to round on Goku, propelling an elbow directly against his jaw. The glow lessens but that doesn't mean the reliance on ki has ended. Rolling balls of gold spit out, one after the other; yet easily enough, Goku bats them away into the backdrop of mountains way in the distance. More follow until the grey of the landscape colours gold, buzzing in every crevice and nook and cranny; giving the impression that the sun itself has targeted Goku. Seriously, he thinks, cantering around the wicked temperature – there's only so much Goku can do to shield himself.

Defending; whilst Goku's especially good at it he finds that it's not exactly getting him anywhere; the only result he's had is with the Spirit Bomb and that was mediocre at best. So he pushes himself, curling around, over and under the blasts as to best cast his own.

It's a quick Kamehameha; very quick in fact, though not weak by any means. He uses it to slice through the gold, equipping it like an eternally producing laser as to carve his way to freedom, rotating as he moves.

Gosh, just anything to put space between him and Quell.

The Kamehameha breathes Goku all the way to freedom. The opening that's formed is tight but enough and Goku presses himself through before the inevitable chaos of explosive ki makes itself known. Golden fireworks bursts outwards, sending shockwaves, spiralling Goku off-balance, collapsing mountains and bringing upon a new layer of oppressive pressure that vacuums Goku's lungs dry.

He refuses to break here however and so the next to fire energy is him. His, whilst not charged to capacity, should at least sting if they land – which they do, engulfing Quell in a rainbow of smouldering heat.

Rixas catches the moment similarly; hasty to bulldoze his way over and send Quell diving downwards with a two-handed, conjoined strike.

It's the first better-than-decent blow so far.

Panting, Rixas nods at him.

Goku's also short of breath and equally as slick with sweat.

They won't be able to hold him off forever.

Time lapses with similar back and forth between the three. Goku and Rixas both equip an analogous level of stamina and Quell proves capable to match it for the most part, though does seem to suffer to keep up to the level of his highest standards. Whilst not the glass canon Gohan is, Quell doesn't compare to Rixas in terms durability and eventually the two-on-one begins to bring about consequence to Quell's overall performance.

There's a great glob of bloodied spit dangling from his mouth right below where Goku'd punched him.

The sneer makes him ugly. "~Particulae prohibere choro!~" he says.

It sounds far away, like it's an echo boomeranging within an everlasting tunnel. Goku's unsure what to expect and falls into step backwards just as a precaution. Rixas has a better idea, dragging Goku even further away as Quell's hands rotate awkwardly in his direction, fingers so flexible that they may as well have been made of rubber.

It's not ki because Goku can't sense it. But something fires out. Billowed wafts of wind throb outwards in almost visible waves.

"Magic," Rixas snaps at him. "Don't go near it!"

The first jittering, invisible breeze waits there, swaying like an underwater mine. More follow.

"~Particulae prohibere choro! Particulae prohibere choro! Particulae prohibere choro!~"

Quell lays the area thickly with these strange spells until the world is swimming in a quivering haze.

"Shit," Rixas pants next to him.

Behind his wall, Quell gestures upwards, cleaving a clearing through rain as to build upon something new.

"Shit. Shit. Shit."

"What's he doing?!" Goku questions, "Rixas!"

Rixas is looking around but the magic has swallowed their escape. They're surrounded, around, above and below – held prisoner by an invisible force – threatened by the unknown.

Goku can at least distinguish what Quell's cooking up now. It's a great expanse of ki, aching for release, one which grows ever bigger in those hands; it's something intimidating in its own right, yet beneath that and comparatively worse, Quell's haughty expression has now been replaced with the wild glee only associated with creatures like Frieza or Majin Buu.

Goku bets his life that he's about to be struck with something especially nasty.

"Ka… me… ha…"

"That's not going to—!" Goku shrugs off Rixas when he tries to pull him out of the attack.

It's better than nothing!

"Me… HAAA!"

Immediately, Goku understands why the attack was doomed to fail. The linear blue at first cuts through the waves until it stutters into permanent stagnation. It's like one of Bulma's frozen computer screens. The lack of movement is unnatural. The Kamehameha is more akin to a statue than a wave, its motion stolen as the spell makes its move all the way along the energy and up to Goku's hands. His right hand is lucky, but his left not so much. Numbness catches the tips of his fingers, bleeding all the way to the palm.

Snatching it back, Goku tries to move it yet it barely responds. The hand curls in on itself in slow-motion. It's now near useless.

There's an unhelpful look of told you so from Rixas as Quell builds his attack. What's Rixas planning on doing? Take the hit dead on and hope for the best?

Goku grits his teeth, looking around. The quivering holds firm its prisoners, except for the protruding Kamehameha which still holds as a testament to an attack failed.

…Or does it?

Goku spins, eyes devouring the stolen routes.

There is a fundamental error to Quell's plan. Sure, this sort of prisoner treatment might work on most people but most don't have Instant Transmission. Rixas has obviously forgotten too under such pressure. Goku doesn't judge them. After all, he's not supposed to have the technique.

When he sends out another Kamehameha, Rixas balks.

"What are you—?!"

"Argh! Argh! Argh!"

There's fast but no less charged. Each blue beam winds him, his lungs fire.

Just as he lets loose one above, Quell's goliath sphere of white comes at them like a falling star. The stilted Kamehamehas are absorbed – as expected – and feed its already swelling stomach, the light impossibly bright and ruining the world around into a dull saturation.

Rixas is defending, shouting too but because the roar of ki is so loud it just sounds like hollowed whispering.

Goku doesn't defend himself. No. He grips at Rixas' shoulder in wait, chest heaving.

As soon as Quell's maniacal grin disappears behind all, Goku brings up his fingers and performs Instant Transmission, not once but twice, firstly dropping Rixas off wayside of the collision and then again to appear behind Quell. Before the latter even turns around, Goku's swivelled a roundhouse kick into his back.

Quell instantly stumbles forward, and then into his own energy. If he's shocked, Goku isn't able to witness it, only the whited-out blonde being dragged into the orbit of energy. As expected, Goku's Kamehamehas satiate the beast until a devastating explosion rocks the planet. Surrounding shrapnel is pulled inwards, scratching and scuffing him, until Goku himself falls victim to the famished drag of the detonation. He's able to fight it for a while, almost free until a pale, bleeding claw snags a hold his arm.

Quell's eyes cut differently this time. Ice and fire. Hate.

And then they're curved with a smirk.

Damn it.

Goku has a choice to make here. He could go down into the flames with Quell or use Instant Transmission to pull them both free.

Would he survive the blast? Quell likely would, though the injuries would slow him – maybe even enough so that Rixas would be able to finish him off without his help.

Still, Goku isn't ready to tap out just yet.

Begrudgingly, he uses Instant Transmission once more, taking them well away from the radius of the explosion. In fact, they land above the Zealite's blackened dome. Smoke intermingles with the rain and gives Goku excellent coverage as to put space between him and Quell.

Goku actually taps down onto the dome itself. The moment is used to catch his breath. Even Quell needs the interruption. Whatever that attack was seems to have done a number. Behind, the chaos is still on-going, a violent, slow paced mushroom cloud soon birthing from the ashes of the explosion, dreary and dreadful and horrifically impactful on the Earth. The planet grumbles unhappily, yet she still stands, thankfully, but for how long?

"Why won't you DIE?!" Quell demands of him.

"Yeah," Goku manages, chest haggard, amused nonetheless, "I get that a lot."

"You—!"

Rixas skids downwards, taking a swipe against his brother but ultimately missing at the last possible second. He comes to a stop beside Goku.

"You crazy fucking bastard," he chides, ragging at Goku's hair. "My fucking heart!"

Goku quirks an uneasy grin. It'd been a close call.

Quell on the other hand looks furious. He's a state, his hair ratty and his skin shredded and burnt. It's like looking at a doll after years of use. You can see what prettiness was once there, but now only remains the damage.

Goku feels quite satisfied with the results.

No doubt he looks terrible himself, but to see Quell on the same level must really hurt the guy. There's a juvenile fulfilment at the image.

"I had planned on sparing the planet," Quell says very lowly, thin-lipped and absolutely done. "But I am sure we will be able to scour the rubble for the dragon ball, and Mori will move beyond his own tears eventually once he has his Revelation."

Goku turns to ice.

"Don't be an idiot!" Rixas shouts.

"I am through with your misdemeanour!" Quell roars back. "RIXAS! The collective calls for your RETURN! Come home or FACE MY WRATH!"

Rixas suddenly seems a man half his own size. He physically wilts. Golden eyes jitter as Quell's aura builds before them, the pinnacle of ki climbing to a new standard with each and every second. Pressure warps the feel of it, tangling in a new hybrid Goku's never felt before. The sensation is horrible, nauseating. He's sure the other fighters around the Earth can sense it. He'll forever feel the electricity in his bones like a haunting memory.

Truly, Rixas is terrified. The expression doesn't suit him at all. Gone is the rush of adrenaline even found the most terrible battles such as these, replaced with heart stopping fear, the type that has him fasten into place next to Goku.

Goku tries to move him but Rixas has retreated somewhere unreachable. The deep connection that must exist between them – the collective as Quell says – steals his friend away and hides him in a dark place, one brimming with power and control Goku'll never understand.

"Rixas!" Goku attempts, over and over. "Come on! Shake it OFF!"

Rixas is fixated on Quell. He's a statue to the touch. Horror is etched in his marble; tears collect at the corners of his eyes, he's become nothing.

Quell lords the power highly. Blustering silver energy is his crown and the Earth is his throne. "You DIE now, GOKU SON!" he orders, soaring higher and higher.

Goku's chest expands. There's nothing there though, no air, just hollowness – not even fear.

It's now or never. He needs to ascend.

And that's when the ground below begins to crumble.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Cheesus and crackers. I do apologize about the delay. It's been a bloody MAD one. I'm out of China, have travelled around a hunk of Aus and currently am vibing in Sydney. Life is strange beyond my shackles! Though, it's a bit of a mess in China at the mo' so I suppose the timing for a getaway isn't tragic. Anyway... yes, here was the promised chapter. I've been horrifically busy (and still am a bit!) but things should even out a bit more. I'm writing C47 (there's even more fighting rip).

As always, thanks so much for your feedback and your patience. Thanks again to my girl, Kags, for the boss beta-ing. We really aren't too far from the end. I guessed we'd finish at C50 a while back but I'm going to push that to C60 - and I hope it's no more than that. Saying that, I do think there will be a one-shot epilogue sort of thing like I did with my other series. We'll see when we get there.

I should be able to get the next out a bit quicker now that I'm not on the road. I'll try and get around to replying to reviews and PMs as soon as I get spare minute! I'm throwing this out and having a big sleep.

Cheers and feel free to drop me a cheeky review if the mood strikes ;)