Ascension - Part 1

by edgarmash79

After leaving the World Martial Arts Tournament to begin his training under a new teacher, Uub, now 16 years of age, was gearing up to participate in the 30th World Tournament. Elsewhere, a new menace emerges from the Eleventh Universe, one whose abilities could lead the very multiverse into dangerous times. This is a remaster of a previous version that I had published before.

7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6 – "Kelerot escapes from Universe 11! 'I'm sorry, Master.'"

A New Number 16

Bulla's impatience annoyed her mother to the point where she was barred from entering the lab until the engineers were done assembling the new model of Number 16. Her willingness to see the new android assembled using her chassis as a base distracted her from training in the gravity room. But, impatient as she was these last few days, Bulla's dream of a training partner would finally be realized.

There was no glass or hole big enough to peek through, sadly. The lab was soundproofed, too, meaning nothing could be heard from inside once the doors were closed. Bulla resorted to waiting beside the entrance, tapping her fingers along her arms, and her feet along the floor. Deciding how she'd approach the new android, she decided to wear something cute and flowery for her first meeting.

Once the doors slid open after what felt like an eternity, Bulla made a mad dash for the entrance, only to bump into Bulma. "Hey! Careful!"

"Is he done? Is he ready? Please, please, please let me see him!" Bulla said, hopping around to peer over her mother to get her first glimpse of the android.

Bulma redirected Bulla's face to hers. "Calm down first before you cause a scene!"

Bulla was wide-eyed, grinning ear-to-ear. A fully functional humanoid robot built by Capsule Corporation! A robot more advanced than those old, clunky cleaning and maintenance robots! A new Number 16 as the premier Capsule Corporation achievement Bulla wanted to brag to everyone about.

"Where is he? Where is he?" Bulla asked, looking everywhere in the lab. Bulma tried to restrain her but instead looked exhausted from the amount of work she did for the day, conceding to her energetic daughter. Inside, Bulla lifted white sheets covering various items until she revealed Number 16's head with a full red mohawk. She let out a squeal after poking the face a couple of times.

The old, damaged parts of the previous model were displayed on a metal tray beside the table they used to assemble the new model. All of the items Bulla had seen from within the containment unit were used as study materials according to the blueprints on Bulma's computer. While none of the worn and broken components were of any use, several were disassembled to be studied individually before new and improved components were built. It was odd comparing the new head on the android to the flattened one with a footprint embedded in the skull.

A cable connected the android to Bulma's computer, ready for the following keystrokes to activate him. Bulla embraced her mother with a tight grip. "Thank you, mama! He's perfect!"

Bulma took her seat by the computer. "Remember, he's your responsibility. I don't have the time or the resources to make another one, understand?"

Bulla lifted her head, composing herself. "Yes, mama. I understand. Let's switch him on!"

Bulma shook her head with a subtle grin. After a few subsequent keystrokes, she pressed the enter button. Seconds later, the android's eyes opened and began scanning the room. Flickering lights appeared in his irises that processed the information before his eyes stopped at Bulla.

"Hi!" Bulla said, waving. "I'm Bulla!"

"Bulla…," the android said in a monotone voice. He glanced at her again. "I do not have a designation assigned to me."

"Can't we program him to speak more normally?" Bulla asked. Bulma gave her a look. "Or not…?"

"Androids don't come out of the workshop talking like us, kiddo," Bulma told her. "They take time to learn human speech and movements before they can work alongside us. Keep in mind I also had some outside help with this one regarding his A.I. script."

Bulla had an idea of whom her mother was talking about: a short, chubby scientist obsessed with eating cookies from their pantry whenever he'd stop by. The scientist eagerly answered her multitude of questions before Bulma had to shoo her out of the lab for nosing around so much.

"Okay. My name is Bulla. Your name is, um, Number…?" Bulla said but blanked on a number. "I want to call him Number 16, but he's not really number 16 anymore, is he?"

Bulla palmed the old destroyed head in her hands, turning it over. She glanced between the two heads. "At least it's great to see what you look like with your whole head this time."

As she compared the two heads, an idea came to her on a whim. "I got it!" she said, laying the old head on the tray again. "From now on, I'm going to call you Gemini."

"Gemini…?" Bulma asked. Before Bulla could say anything, her mother was already in the middle of smoking a cigarette.

She dismissed the habit for now. "Yeah! Like the constellation! He's an identical twin of Number 16, so the name makes sense, doesn't it?" She then hovered over the android. "You heard all of that? Your name is Gemini from now on!"

"Understood. You are Bulla, and I am Gemini," said the android, processing the new data. Bulma leaned over the other side, wearing the same nostalgic look she had before. "Welcome back," she whispered.

"I still think we should build more androids and name them after mythological figures that I've been reading about," Bulla boasted, but Bulma waved her hand.

"One is enough, sweetie. Let's focus on bringing him up to speed, alright? It's a laboratory, not an assembly line," Bulma said. She extinguished her cigarette and removed the rest of the sheet off the android. After she disconnected the cable, the android rose to a seated position.

"So what can you do, Gemini?" Bulla asked. Gemini turned his head. "I am capable of minimal basic functions. Advanced functions require additional programming."

Bulla turned to Bulma. "What does he mean by that?"

"It means you're working with a blank slate," said Bulma. Bulla then noticed something different about the android. She scrutinized him from top to bottom, frowning. "Hey, this isn't the chassis I used!"

Bulma pointed out the chassis on the table behind her. "We didn't forget. But we couldn't use it because the head was too big for that size. We needed an adult chassis for this model."

Bulla regarded the chassis she put a lot of time and effort on and pouted. "I thought for sure I'd have something to contribute to this. I want to learn everything about how androids are built so I can build one of my own."

"You still can," Bulma assured her. "I know several people who'd be willing to teach you at the scientist's convention at the end of May next year. Once the Tournament's finished, you'll have plenty of time to learn."

It was relieving to hear her mother provide options for her dream of studying and understanding robots. It was also relieving that it took Bulma and her team no more than two weeks to assemble and program Gemini. The rest was up to Bulla to get him adapted to movement and martial arts so he could train with her in the gravity room. She hoped his body could endure the high levels of gravity, or else this would've been a waste of her time.

Bulla glanced at the calendar. She hadn't realized that they were nearing the end of the year. At least, this would make for the best Christmas gift ever received from her mother. In a few days, she'd get to see her father for a brief stay to celebrate the holidays before he returned to Uncle Beerus for more of his training. Trunks would likely return with his friend Goten in tow, but Bulla didn't mind. Bringing Goten to celebrate meant bringing his girlfriend Marron as well. It was an occasion that brought both families together for one giant celebration of the festivities she was used to participating in each year.

Unfortunately, the only visitor that arrived to celebrate the holidays was Vegeta. Whis brought him with the promise that he'd return with delectable Christmas goodies and presents for himself and Lord Beerus. One gift was a gadget Bulla constructed that displayed a projection of the milky way. She was pleased to see her father for a brief stay and a light sparring session. Prince and Princess tea parties became Father-Daughter training sessions to showcase how much Bulla had improved. The father/daughter duo then shared a moment where they moved in sync. They punched, kicked, and moved their bodies as one unit beside each other to entertain Bulma and Whis. Embracing her father, Bulla was glad she had something out of this year's celebration. Training time for the most important Tournament meant that sacrifices were made.

By the end of January, Gemini had adjusted to life around Capsule Corporation. His size and strength made for the best help Bulma and Dr. Briefs could ever want, which annoyed Bulla sometimes, mostly because of how often Gemini aided them on that one infinity engine project they had been working with non-stop for years. She needed him to be her training partner, not some lowly lab assistant only useful for manual labor.

"What are we doing in here?" Gemini asked as Bulla connected a cable from a port in his head to the computer terminal in the gravity room.

"Mama has played with you enough, Gemini. I need you to help me finish my training for the World Martial Arts Tournament," she explained. Once the other end was plugged in, she booted up her father's battle program. The computer then recognized Gemini and connected with his CPU. Gemini glanced at the computer.

"It wants to know what your intentions are," Gemini said. Bulla grinned, entering a few keystrokes on the onboard computer. After a few seconds, Gemini's eyes flickered. "Downloading in progress."

"By the time I'm done copying Papa's programs into your CPU, it'll be like training with him directly," Bulla said.

"I am not a combat model," Gemini told her, making Bulla roll her eyes. "I know you're not, Gemini. I just wish Mama had made you into one, though. That's why I'm doing this so you can fight like Papa and help me out since my stupid brother decided it was more important to go train far away with his friend Goten."

"Why do you hold much hostility toward your sibling, Miss Bulla?" Gemini asked. As often as Bulla could, she could not manage to make Gemini stop preceding her name with "miss" when speaking to her. But she didn't need an android to figure out that she was frustrated with her brother's lack of presence around the building. Either he's still training with Goten, or he sought after Mai's affections once more. I swear I'll give that woman a piece of my mind when I see her again.

"Why am I hostile towards Trunks?" Bulla said but sighed immediately. "I don't know. I guess I don't particularly appreciate seeing so many people close to me leave for their own reasons. Call me selfish. I don't really care."

Once the download was complete, Bulla unplugged the cable and set it aside in her bag. She then activated the machine and set the gravity to 150G on the screen. While she had immersed Gemini into everyday life, she tested his durability in the gravity room by gradually increasing the levels until they were within her tolerance. As anticipated, it had no effect on Gemini's physique, telling Bulla that Bulma accounted for the gravity room's effects on the android. You knew I would use him for combat training. Thanks, Mama.

When the gravity reached its programmed level, Bulla assumed her fighting stance. "Gemini, initiate Vegeta Combat Program Number Twelve."

"Acknowledged, Miss Bulla," said the android. Once his eyes stopped flickering, he assumed Vegeta's fighting stance, mimicking Bulla. Yes! I can finally push my training to its limits! Super Saiyan 2, here we come!

Investigation

It took a great deal of effort for Dyspo not to scream.

The alarm sounded in the hospital, alerting the entire nursing staff. It was also a one-way communication to the Pride Troopers if something went wrong. Once several soldiers arrived with General Dyspo and General Kahseral, they secured the perimeter while the Generals rushed to the room they kept the prisoner locked in.

"It was like this when I entered to inspect his vitals," said a young nurse. She expected to be scolded harshly by the Pride Troopers as though she believed herself responsible for the prisoner escaping overnight in a torrential downpour. Kahseral inspected the damage to the bindings and bits that had fastened them to the vertical platform. "Dyspo, come here," he called.

Dyspo dismissed the poor girl's panic with a wave. "Do not hold yourself accountable, miss. Please continue to do your job and care for those who need it here. We'll take over."

The nurse was still shaken but bowed respectfully to Dyspo regardless. Alone with Kahseral, Dyspo punched a hole through the platform. "Damn it all!"

"General…," Kahseral muttered, glancing back at him. "We'll get nowhere fast flying off the handle. Let's figure out what happened here."

Dyspo pulled his fist, which he realized went through the platform and the wall behind it. He looked embarrassingly at the patients on the other side, averting their confused staring. "Yes. I apologize, my friend."

Kasheral was working his eyepiece to investigate the floor near the window. Dyspo hovered nearby. As he took a couple of steps closer, he heard a splish noise from under his foot. "Water…?"

"I estimate that Kel, er, prisoner 841-120 escaped through the window. We should be able to discover footprints that would provide us a lead," Kahseral explained, pointing out sections of the floor that had puddles formed via the rainwater.

"How long ago did he escape?" asked Dyspo. Kahseral examined his device, assessing the floor before fully opening the curtains to look at the skies. The stormclouds had receded, but Dyspo figured the device had something that could give Kahseral an accurate measurement.

Kahseral inspected the data. "Judging by the clouds' pattern after the storm's tail and the partially evaporated water on the floor, I estimate the fugitive has at least a six-hour lead on us."

Dyspo sniffed loudly. "Six hours…." He made an abrupt about-face and stalked out of the room. There was no time to waste as he activated his wristband communicator.

"Lieutenant Cocotte, come in," he said.

"Standing by, General," came Cocotte's voice on the other end. Punctual and always ready.

"Downgrade to Delta-level and lockdown Netfiss City. Our criminal escaped the hospital and is currently on the loose. He is still weakened after his capture, but we cannot discredit him as a threat. Assign Pride Trooper squadrons to monitor all pharmaceutical manufacturing plants and warehouses and secure borders in and out of the city. I also need Pride Trooper squadrons to escort civilians to their homes and enforce a curfew until we've secured the fugitive and executed him. We will rendezvous with Squad A at the North Netfiss border in one hour. Over and out."

Once Kahseral rejoined him, Dyspo was still on his way to the nursing team at their station. "General, I'll need you to conduct a wide search of the area outside and trace his footsteps. I'll speak with the nurses to find out more information about the status of our fugitive. I'll notify Lord Barbon that we'll handle his execution now."

Kahseral saluted him. "Understood."

After sprinting away, Dyspo saluted the nursing team. "What are prisoner 841-120's vitals from your last report?"

The team lead grabbed a chart with scribblings and read it over. "Your captive suffered internal damage and broken ribs, but those were stabilized and repaired with quick-acting healing serum. We then switched to a gradual healing serum administered every twelve hours. He is still critical despite not being at risk of internal bleeding, General."

Dyspo listened carefully, nodding each time. "He is still a wounded animal. That gives us an advantage. I need to know what these healing serums look like so that we can block his access to them. The longer he eludes us, the better his chances of healing and regaining his strength."

Retrieving two different vials from their cabinet, the nurse displayed them before Dyspo. "The pink is the quick-acting serum, while the green is the slower model. It stabilizes with slow healing properties to manage pain so our patients can still function."

"Understood," Dyspo said, examining the vial of the green serum. "It pains me to do this, but I will need to halt shipment until we've dealt with the fugitive. Do you have enough in stock for your patients?"

"At the moment, yes," the team lead informed him. "We recently received our shipment at the beginning of the week. We only ever need to order the pink vials twice a year."

Dyspo carefully handed the vial back to the nurse and saluted the team. "Thank you, everyone. This will be difficult for all of us, but I am confident Justice will prevail as it always does."

Once he stepped outside, he sought Kahseral, who was busy leading a team of Pride Troopers searching the area. He waved him over.

"I found where the fugitive had left the hospital. He jumped from there," Kahseral said, pointing to the window from the other side of the hospital room they were in earlier.

One of Kahseral's troopers approached him, saluting. "Nothing looks out of place, sir."

Kahseral nodded. "Deploy the remaining troopers and regroup with Squad A at the North border as ordered."

The Co-General then activated his eyepiece and searched the grass. "It's faint, but there are tracks from here to the woods ahead."

Dyspo followed Kahseral as he traced the footprints to the parking area. He pointed out one of the parked vehicles. "Handprint."

Kahseral continued to track where the fugitive moved until they reached the forest. He searched until he stopped by one of the trees before pressing a button to deactivate his search mode, shaking his head.

"The trail goes cold after this point," he told Dyspo, sighing. "Long-range scans don't detect any further movement."

"So, what does that mean?" Dyspo asked, examining the tree where the footsteps stopped. "Did he take to the air?"

Kahseral leaned against the tree, pondering. "His current condition would not have afforded him enough energy to fly far toward the city. If he had taken to the paved road, my device would've detected it."

Dyspo wanted to punch the tree. Or at least rip it from the ground to toss it into orbit. "I refuse to underestimate this little shit while he roams around under our noses!" He then stormed off past Kahseral. "By the end of the day, I want his head mounted above our office!"

Disguise

Sunlight poked through buildings, kissing Kelerot's face to wake him. He mustered enough energy to sit, shielding his eyes but would need some time before he could stand on his feet again.

His body was wracked with pain. Even a stray sneeze from enduring the cold, harsh rainfall the night before caused a wave of agony. At least in this alley, he'd buy himself some time to plan his next move. It won't be long before the Pride Troopers search every nook and cranny of Netfiss city to find him.

The morning sunlight, although warm, didn't alleviate the chill in the air. Soaked through, the blanket Kelerot found tossed inside the dumpster to his left was all he could use to provide warmth. He wrapped it tightly around his body while fighting hunger pangs that only elevated his pain. I'm free, but for how long? Until I'm caught again, or I die of pneumonia and starvation?

He shook his head. "Stop complaining, Kelerot. You have a job to do," he whispered. Peeking around the dumpster into the alley, he caught a homeless man searching through garbage strewn on the ground until he approached the dumpster to peer inside. His attire looked no less worse for wear, possibly better than the torn threads Kelerot still had on him. Beneath a mane of hair and beard was a humanoid male whose face was still visible. He was the first normal-looking person Kelerot had seen in a while.

When he looked in his direction, the man nearly lost his balance. "Geez…!"

"Sorry."

Kelerot groaned, trying to rise. He eventually stood on one leg with his knee still on the ground, but that was all he could manage until he needed some time to force the rest of his body upright. "They didn't throw any food in there, did they? I was only able to find this blanket."

"If you want food, there's a shelter half a mile down that way," the man said, pointing past Kelerot. "Gonna be hard to get a spot in since the Pride Troopers locked the city down. If I were you, buddy, I wouldn't make myself a sitting duck."

"Noted," said Kelerot, glancing behind him. He concealed himself under the blanket, using it as a temporary hooded cloak to hide his face. His stomach growled fiercely, nearly causing him to collapse on the ground again if the man hadn't caught him. "Woah there, I gotcha."

He helped Kelerot lean his back against the dumpster. Before Kelerot could thank him, the man leaned in close to stare at his face. "I recognize ya. You're that guy whose face is plastered all over the city."

Shit.

"Yeah, I've become popular among the Pride Troopers," Kelerot muttered. He sneezed again, sending another wave of agony through his body. "I need to get out of these wet clothes."

Kelerot didn't know what to think of this man. He could've been someone looking out only for himself or turned Kelerot in to the Pride Troopers in exchange for money to buy himself food. He didn't expect that the man would climb into the dumpster and knock from inside. "I saw some clothes thrown out here yesterday. Don't move. I'll find something."

"'Don't move,' he says. Not like I could do much of that in the first place," Kelerot whispered. He kept an eye out for Pride Trooper movement, hoping it wasn't too late. Ridding himself of these prison clothes was one burden he would finally be ecstatic to discard for good.

The man tossed pants, shirts, and a hooded jacket to the ground near Kelerot, climbing back out. "Those were the smallest I could scavenge, given your size," he told him.

Giving him enough time to dress, the man staked out the streets for signs of the Pride Troopers. It was bothering Kelerot as he used the blanket to dry himself after discarding the wet clothes what the deal with this homeless man was. Each movement was painstakingly slow for him. "Why are you helping me?" Kelerot asked. At least the dried clothes weren't weighing him down, alleviating a sliver of pain.

"I like to think I'm a good judge of character," the man said. He signaled Kelerot to take cover in the shaded area of the alley. "Your face doesn't quite match the face they're showing the city. I don't know what all this nonsense that's going on, but you don't strike me as the kind of guy who'd kill hundreds of people."

"I didn't. Someone else did, and they're using me as their scapegoat," Kelerot said. He wasn't going to divulge everything related to his escape from prison, nor would he entertain this stranger with his story of how badly Jiren pummeled him, leaving him in his current condition.

"I'm guessing they must've done quite a number on you already," said the man, eyeing Kelerot. Kelerot wanted to laugh. You're not completely wrong.

He clutched his stomach. His physiology made starvation amplify his pain so much that he leaned forward, touching his head to the ground. "It hurts to do anything. I haven't eaten anything since yesterday."

"Shelter's your only option, buddy. They may make an exception in your case over how badly you're hurt, but one look at your face would have you back in Pride Trooper captivity," said the man, to which Kelerot added, "and facing their executioner."

The man's eyes widened, to which Kelerot breathed a sigh. "They want me dead. I have no doubts about it. They want to turn me over to the God of Destruction and erase me from existence."

The eyes widened even more. "Is it that bad?"

Kelerot nodded. Groaning, he lifted himself back to sit against the wall. The pain was making his eyes water, forcing his body to plead for another dose of whatever medicine that nurse injected him with. He needed to get his hands on that medicine again soon.

But first, he needed to focus his mind. The aches and hunger made him scatterbrained, prompting him to scream inside his mind to silence it for only a few minutes so he could think clearly.

What was that one ability you delved? Kelerot asked himself. He closed his eyes, sifting through his memories of what techniques he delved from the prisoners. Nothing of the Pride Troopers was going to cut it. He needed something to disguise his appearance or make himself invisible to pass undetected. When he eventually found it, he grunted, channeling his minute reserves of ki. "C'mon, work," he hissed.

The look on the homeless man's face told Kelerot that he was at least partially successful. "What the hell…?!"

Kelerot reached to touch his face and arms. There was less fur than before, along with the shape of his face and body, but it wasn't as complete as he expected it to be. "It'll have to do for now," he said.

The man gasped. "You even sound like me…!" He backed away slowly, muttering, "what the hell did you do?"

"Calm down," Kelerot whispered. "I know a few tricks to get me out of a pinch. I can't stay in this form for too long because I have next to no ki. I only need enough time to get to that shelter with your help."

The shapeshifting ability he delved from a prisoner named Churun was a natural ability he discovered belonged to the prisoner's species. The prison took it into account, inhibiting his ability to change into one of the guards to prevent his escape, but it couldn't inhibit Kelerot's ability to delve into his lifeforce to discover such a vital ability. The treasure trove of abilities and techniques those prisoners had only yielded a handful for Kelerot to survive on, but he didn't mind training his mind to retain the rest. It was only a matter of focus to recall the ability, yet his current condition only afforded him a partial change. It would be enough to fool the Pride Troopers, he figured.

"I can only change into those I've come in contact with," Kelerot said, offering his arm for the homeless man to grab. "That's why I chose you to test it out. Shame I don't have a mirror to see the results."

The man gulped, draping Kelerot's arm over his shoulders. "I-I'd say it worked."

"Now, can you get me there within five minutes?" Kelerot asked as they began walking. The man needed more effort since Kelerot was almost dead weight after channeling ki to alter his appearance. His clothes shrunk in his current shape but would soon loosen when the disguise wore off. If they could make it before the Pride Troopers saw Kelerot, he'd maintain his advantage. "If you hold on tight, I can," the man replied.

The streets were deserted as the pair crossed. Pride Trooper squadrons marched down each route until one stopped the man for questioning. "We're on our way to that shelter ahead," he told them.

The squad leader, some grunt Kelerot figured was still a greenhorn recruit, gave them a nod and waved them onward. The two then cut into the next alleyway between buildings until they were onto the next street. To the right was the shelter.

"We're almost there," he said. Kelerot's movements were increasingly sluggish once they passed the second alleyway. He was then hit with a wave of dizziness and blurred vision that almost made him collapse forward if the man hadn't held him more tightly. He wasn't sure if he sensed the man's hand touching him or not, but he could hear the words "burning up."

"They don't have hospitals in these shelters," the man told him. "I really should take you to one."

"No," Kelerot muttered. His speech sounded slurred. "They're waiting…for me…."

The man scoffed and hoisted Kelerot on his shoulder. Increasing his steps, he doubled it to the shelter entrance.

Banging on the door, he adjusted Kelerot on his shoulder. The shaking kept him awake, though, but the noises may as well have been puffs of air.

"Someone let us in! I have someone with me who needs immediate medical attention!" he shouted to the entrance. He continued pounding on the door, but as he did, Kelerot's appearance began to shift back to his original form. "Hurry…!" the man shouted again.

Dammit. Won't someone answer the door?! I'm a sitting duck out here!

Sounds of locks turning were heard from inside until a petite woman in glasses answered the door. "Sorry, we're ful—oh my gosh!" the sight of Kelerot startled her, which prompted her to open the door all the way. "Let's get him inside!"

That voice sounds familiar, Kelerot wondered, but that was all he could think of before his head drooped forward, and blackness took him…

…Or so he thought.

It was dark when he opened his eyes again. He tried to move, but every fiber of his body screamed at him to stay put. He again found himself imprisoned, this time by his own skin and bones. All these different places restricting his movement were driving him mad. He'd sell his soul for freedom if it came down to it.

His ears did perk up to the sound of a woman's snoring nearby. He searched the room from his vantage point, trying to get as much of an angle to see everything, but could only discern a silhouette asleep at a writing desk in a small room. Reaching around with his hand, he felt cushions under his body. A sofa…?

Coupled with his aching body were chills. He found himself shivering and sought out something he could use to bundle himself, only to discover there was a blanket draped over him up to his neck. There was something else sitting on his face that he couldn't see, but when he reached with his hand, he brushed against a wet cloth that had been applied to his forehead. So that's what happened.

He was on the cusp of death once again, yet fortune continued to court his favor for some reason. It was rather annoying at this point, rescued from the brink of death by someone else. Yet each time he found himself on the side of the living, the first person he hoped he could see was Perilla. But you're dead. I wonder if it would be better just to die here and see you first thing on the other side. I couldn't care less if you punched me in the face for each day I wasn't there with you. At least this way, I could spend eternity with you.

He went back to sleep fighting layers of battles from illness to a bludgeoned body.

Kelerot woke the following morning to sounds of a discussion between that woman from the other day and another female in the room. It didn't sound pleasant from what he could hear.

"I don't care if you've accepted his help before or not. He's a wanted fugitive!"

"Who can't even lift a finger while running a high fever? I'm not so cruel as to throw him back to the wolves, Belenda!"

The woman named Belenda scoffed loudly. "I don't want him here," she hissed. "His face, busted as it is, is putting the whole staff on edge. You should've left him out on the streets the moment you saw him!"

"And leave him to die," the petite woman spoke coldly. "At least let us nurse him back to health before deciding whether we should turn him in or not."

"Do you even hear yourself at all, Skilette?!" Belinda cried. "'Turn him in or not?' Do you want us to be charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive?"

So it is her. I want to laugh at how much of a coincidence this is!

Skilette paced around the room until her eyes met Kelerot's. She paused but didn't want to give anything away until she first wanted Belenda out of the room. Kelerot closed his eyes again, pretending he was still sleeping.

"If it comes to that, then I'll accept responsibility. I would never put anyone here in jeopardy for something I did. Give me time until his fever breaks. I'll take him to my place afterward," she said. Kelerot wanted to smile, but even his facial muscles ached. Was there nothing on his body that wasn't in constant agony?

"Fine," Belenda said, gripping the doorknob tightly. "Just remember that you could've been among his victims."

The door slamming in her face was not how Skilette wanted to start her day. Kelerot could see it written on her when she leaned against it, arms crossed under her chest. She gave him a soured look.

Pacing around the room, she opened her mouth to speak but angered huffing was all Kelerot heard. Her soured look was almost toxic when she pulled up a chair to sit across from him. "Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you've put me through?!"

Kelerot wanted to answer but broke into a coughing fit instead.

Scoffing, Skilette ripped the cloth off of Kelerot's forehead. "I'll be right back."

It was refreshing, if not chilling, to experience the cold washcloth applied to his face. Skilette was only doing this methodically, but it was something at least. "Thank you," Kelerot whispered.

There was a long pause where neither spoke a word. Skilette dabbed his face and forehead, rinsing the cloth and refreshing it with cold water. The silence was only subdued by Skilette's breathing, which he figured was withholding anger.

"I had friends in that facility," she said. "Friends I went to school with. Now they're dead, and here I am nursing you of all people back to health."

She paused to stare at him. "Did you do it? Did you destroy the prison?"

Kelerot gulped. He could tell Skilette was in a state of mind that the wrong words would dictate how she approached him. He could easily mess it up and convince her that Belenda was right and he'd be turned over to the Pride Troopers, regardless of how sick he was. His life was in her hands now.

"Have I ever lied to you before?" he asked. He couldn't manage anything above a whisper, but it was quiet enough in the room that Skilette could hear him. "No," she said. "But I had a feeling you kept a few things from me. Why?"

Why? Why is she leading with this? Can't I just be straightforward with the truth?

"Because I wasn't certain you'd understand how strong I was and that I needed to hide my power to avoid arousing suspicion." Kelerot stopped to breathe. Talking so much was painful, he realized. "You have no idea how much control the Pride Troopers have over the universe. As principled as they believe their justice system is, its absolute is terrifying."

"But it keeps us safe," Skilette said, dousing the cloth in the cold water again. "As long as we obey the laws, we're guaranteed to be safe from those who intend to do us harm."

"Until you break one of them. Then the only ones you should worry about harming you aren't the 'bad guys' anymore," Kelerot retorted, looking up at her. Skilette paused, averting her eyes. "I naively believed their system before I was wrongfully convicted and sent to waste away in that prison."

"Dammit…," Skilette whispered. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "I know that tone of voice you've used before, and I hate that it's the one you use when you're being honest. So did you destroy the prison?"

"No, I didn't," Kelerot replied before he sighed. "Not directly, anyway."

"Wh-what do you mean…?" Skilette said, her voice shaking. Her hand hovered over his face with the freshly cooled washcloth, confusing Kelerot. He wasn't sure what she wanted to do with it. If what he said convinced her that an indirect method of destroying the prison was enough, she'd shove the cloth down his throat and leave him choking to death.

"I spent the last decade mastering gravity techniques. One of which is a powerful gravity well with the strength of a black hole, yet I can control it remotely and dissipate it," Kelerot explained. Skilette's hand lowered slightly.

"I needed a 'bargaining chip' to secure my escape from the prison. So long as no one touched it, the prison wouldn't be sucked into it. But after my escape, someone must've activated it before I could make it disappear. I was never going to destroy the prison and kill everyone. If anyone is going to die at my hands, it's Toppo."

It wasn't easy for her to understand, no matter Kelerot's explanation. He could convince her, and there was a hint that she could stay on his side, but all he could see in her eyes were betrayal, pain, and anger. "I'm sorry your friends became unintended casualties. Had I known, I would've asked you to talk them into leaving that day with you."

She covered his face with the washcloth. He didn't understand until seconds later when he heard sobbing. He lifted the cloth, but only enough to reveal his mouth. "I know it doesn't sound like much, but I'm glad you took my advice and stayed here."

He waited until Skilette composed herself before taking the washcloth off his face, re-folding it to place it on his forehead. "I don't expect you to forgive me, Skilette."

She pursed her lips as she rose from her chair. "Get some rest. I'll get you something to eat later." Her voice sounded flat, but the assurance that he would be fed was something at least. He still hung onto what he said earlier as her unforgiving eyes glanced at him one last time before she left the room. Alone again, Kelerot stared at the ceiling. A barely noticeable wisp of air from the ceiling fan had little effect on cooling the room, yet Kelerot was still with his fever, forcing him to stay under the wool blanket.

First that homeless man, and now Skilette. They knew what happened, yet they still chose to help me. Kelerot racked his brain over this. Fifteen years of the same treatment – not even the nurses at the prison had any extra compassion to spare other than ensuring he didn't die on them – and now he's faced with people willing to set aside their judgemental bias to help him. Were there others like that in the universe? Others willing to hear his side of events and empathize with him? He was still too exhausted and trashed to think any further. He'd rest and hope that whatever Skilette brought him would be enough.

He woke later that day to the smell and sight of a bowl of soup. The scent of vegetables brought back many pleasant memories of Gardenia, harvesting with Spinack and Sprouts. A meaty aroma was swimming among the vegetables that wafted under his nose. It smelled familiar, whatever it was.

"Chicken soup, if you're wondering," Skilette said as she set the tray in front of him. Easing him into a seated position, she tied a napkin around his neck. "It's my mother's recipe for whenever I was sick."

Kelerot reached for the spoon. Chicken soup. Whether this would alleviate his illness or not was irrelevant. He was famished. His stomach pleaded for food of any kind, and he'd feast on the first thing in front of him if he could. Even the blanket looked appetizing in his sickened state, hallucinating things before him. He was so out of it he confused Skilette for Reizuko at some point.

He couldn't remember the last time he tasted something homemade. The chicken flavor danced on his tongue so much he was nearly weeping. I missed this!

"Take your time," Skilette told him, easing his hands down. He slurped and dug into the bowl so fast that it made a mess on the tray.

Kelerot drank the remaining contents from the bowl. "Thank you." His stomach was thankful, too, if it weren't still begging for more. "May I have more, please?" I'll never forget how often I annoyed Spinack's mom about asking for more.

Skilette frowned at the container she had with her. "I only made enough for two. I was going to have a bowl myself."

She then sighed and filled the bowl with the rest of it. "Go ahead," she said meekly. She still looked hurt, but it hurt him even more that he was in this position of being weighed on hand and foot. However, the agony of thinking rationally soon gave way to his hunger, and he devoured the second bowl just as fast.

As Skilette placed the cap back on the container, another gurgling came from Kelerot's stomach. She gawked at his abdomen before looking up at him. "You can't be serious…."

"Sorry, it's my physiology," Kelerot said. His mouth twisted as he clutched his midsection, willing his stomach to stop making noises. "My kind eat a lot."

"Is there anything else I should know about?" Skilette asked, twisting the cap on tightly. She pressed the back of her hand against Kelerot's face, frowning. "Still hot."

"If my strength comes back, I know a trick that will help me get past the Pride Troopers and out of your hair," Kelerot said. He needed at least a week before he had enough strength to change his appearance completely and sustain it long enough. As he was now, the best he could manage was to change his nose to that of the homeless man's bulbous one from the other day. Thinking on it, maybe a random facial alteration would be enough to fool those who hadn't seen him yet, or something else was needed in a pinch. It certainly became the case once he and Skilette were alerted to several knocks on the shelter's front door.

Martial Law

Dyspo's communicator beeped non-stop as he delivered instructions to squad leaders before dismissing them to their tasks. It even had Kahseral give him a look wondering if he would answer it or not.

"Lieutenant," Dyspo said as he pressed the button. "I instructed you to communicate only to the squad leaders. If I needed an update, I'd contact you directly."

"I'm sorry, General," Cocotte replied. Why was her tone so desperate, Dyspo wondered? He exchanged looks with Kahseral. "It's a priority request directly from the President of Netfiss."

Dyspo and Kahseral froze. Of all the people messaging them, the President was the last person they'd expected.

"You talk to her," Dyspo hissed, taking Kahseral's forearm. He brought the co-General's communicator to his mouth.

"No, the communication is directed to you, Dyspo," Kahseral replied, copying Dyspo's gesture.

"She makes me nervous!" Dyspo reiterated, which only made Kahseral more desperate. "You're not the only one! She even made Toppo sweat!"

"Are you two done yet…?" The President's stern voice blared out from both their communicators. Stern was only the tip of the iceberg. Below was a cold, frightful woman whom Dyspo believed had their neck in a constant noose, ready to be tightened at a moment's notice.

"I should return to my squad and set up the West perimeter," Kahseral said as he hovered his hand over his wristband. "Not so fast," came the President's reply. Kahseral's one eye widened while his device blipped and buzzed, likely out of panic from the President's voice.

"So, um, Madam President," Dyspo said, tensing up. "To what do we owe the honor?"

"Would either of you mind explaining to me why it was in your best interest to put my city under lockdown without my authorization?" the President asked. Both Generals gulped.

"Well, a prisoner escaped the maximum-security facility and destroyed it," Dyspo began. He willed his hand to stop shaking. "We were certain we had him secured and locked at the North Netfiss Medical complex, but he somehow escaped and is loose in the city."

"You let a hostile fugitive escape into my city?!" the President yelled. Dyspo and Kahseral winced immediately.

"We are taking necessary precautions to contain him within the city, Madam President," Kahseral said, hoping to ease the tension with his more organized approach. Dyspo no longer could count the number of times he'd been grateful to his co-General for approaching everything with a level head when speaking with the President.

"And now you lock down Netfiss with the intent to enforce Martial Law?" the President inquired. Dyspo was glad she couldn't see how disgusted he made his face look. Why does it make us look bad when she says it like that?

"We don't intend on enforcing this on a long-term basis. Only until we've recaptured the fugitive, Madam President!" Dyspo said. There was a brief pause followed by a heavy sigh from the other end. "We express our apologies for the hasty implementation of our plan."

"How long will this take?" the President asked.

"The Gauntlet is currently docked outside of Netfiss city. Commanders Kettol, Zoiray, and Kunshi have rejoined us to lead squadrons across all city sectors. We've assigned each sector to a squadron to conduct a widespread search of each building to locate and capture the fugitive. In his current condition, he will not be able to resist us."

It was relieving for Dyspo that Kahseral could handle debriefing others on what was being executed while taking a more direct approach and implementing short, concise orders to the Pride Troopers.

"We expect to have him back in our captivity by the end of the week. No one can leave Netfiss while under lockdown," Dyspo added. He expected another loud sigh from the President.

"You have a week, no more. God of Destruction Appreciation Day is coming in less than four months, and I intend to ensure that the citizens approach the day with anticipation rather than hesitation. Am I clear?" the President asked.

"Yes, Madam President," Dyspo and Kahseral said together. The President said nothing else as the channel was cut abruptly. Dyspo then groaned loudly.

"A week won't be enough time, Dyspo," Kahseral said. "She won't extend it beyond that. Worse, we already ate up two days organizing this lockdown."

"I know," Dyspo said, palming his face. "Two sections reported no signs of 841-120. Kettol's on his way to investigate the homeless shelters, while Zoiray and Kunshi have yet to report on the Pharmaceutical warehouses."

"I'll work on easing concerns throughout the city. We need to remind the citizens that they are safe under our watch," Kahseral said. He pulled his tablet out and observed a map of Netfiss City. Shading out the two sectors that were reported all-clear, he glossed over the remaining eight. Tapping on the lower southeast sections, he enlarged them.

He pressed a button on his communicator. "Commander Kettol, increase all efforts in your search through the lower-income sections. If our fugitive would escape to a section of the city, he'd find a shelter to hide in first."

"Understood, General. Kettol, out." Kasheral and Dyspo took to the air. "You should return to H.Q. and liaise with Cocotte to monitor all sections and maintain an open channel. I'll stay up here and scan the city sector by sector for anyone suspicious that may match our fugitive," he said to Dyspo, who nodded in earnest.

"Our curfew being in full force should simplify our search," Dyspo said, and the two saluted before flying in separate directions.

Another trick up his sleeve

Skilette expected knocking sooner or later but was still caught off-guard by how loud the knocks were. "This is Pride Trooper Squad D! By decree of General Dyspo and General Kahseral, I hereby order you to open this door!" yelled a voice from outside. While it was still muffled through the front door and the office she kept her "patient" in, the person yelling sounded impatient.

"Shoot," whispered Skilette. "Look, number whatever it was—"

"Kelerot. Sorry if I hadn't said my actual name earlier," the fugitive corrected her. Kelerot. From a planet named Gardenia. Skilette waited with her ear pressed against the wall for Belenda to open the door as expected.

"There's not a lot of time. If they barge in here and see you, they're going to take you away," she told Kelerot. Despite his conduct when they worked together in the library while serving his sentence, all sense of camaraderie evaporated once word got out that the prison was destroyed with everyone in it except her.

He said he didn't destroy it, yet something he made did.

She has known people in the administrative section for years.

She went to school with them.

She saw pictures of their families.

And all were wiped in an instant.

Whether he did it directly or indirectly mattered little. They were gone, and she had to nurse the man somehow responsible back to health out of some obligation she couldn't tear herself away from.

And that's what she hated the most about all of this.

"Kelerot, I'm sorry, but—"

When she spun to face him, he was gone. The blanket she had draped over him lay on the floor. What the-?!

Another knock, this time on the door directly behind her. Startled, she opened it hastily. "Y-yes, hello?"

"Commander Kettol of the Pride Troopers," said a tall figure wearing red and black spandex, the signature uniform of their organization. His fish-like facial features intimidated her at first glance until she realized he wasn't speaking out of hostility. He saluted with a white-gloved hand before entering the room with a pair of subordinates. "We're currently investigating shelters across the city for signs of an escaped fugitive that destroyed our Space Prison. You wouldn't happen to have seen any signs of his whereabouts?"

Skilette retrieved the blanket from the floor, bundling it to hug it tightly against her. She glanced past the Pride Trooper to eye Belenda, who shot her a stern look. She's expecting me to tell them the truth.

"I haven't seen anything suspicious. You kind of woke me from a nap, actually," she said.

"Apologies, ma'am," Kettol replied. He signaled the subordinates to conduct their search. They opened the supply closet for a quick check and looked under the sofa, using their arm to feel underneath. They both shook their heads at Kettol.

"All clear, sir," they told him. Kettol nodded. "We'll search the remaining rooms."

The subordinates saluted him and proceeded onward. Kettol produced an image of Kelerot from his digital pad. "If you see this person, inform us immediately. Thank you for your time."

He saluted again before the trio exited, leaving Belenda to glare at her. The woman stalked into the room, closing the door behind her. She would've slammed it had the Pride Troopers not been in the building.

"Are you insane?!" Belenda hissed. "Lying to an elite Pride Trooper officer?!"

Skilette glared back, throwing the blanket down. She pointed at the sofa. "Do you see the man in this room? Huh?"

Belenda opened her mouth but closed it immediately. "B-but, what?!"

She frantically paced around the room. Skilette could see some of Belenda's neatly kept hair unraveled from the bun she had tied. "Where is he?!"

Throwing her arms up, the woman Skilette usually believed was the most rational of the staff as shelter administrator was beside herself with bewilderment.

Kelerot was in this room. Skilette's eyes weren't playing tricks with her. One moment he was lying on the sofa with a blanket over him and a washcloth; the next, he was gone. She lifted the blanket again, only to see the washcloth falling out. This situation was growing weirder by the minute.

Her eye caught a flicker on the sofa. She could see Kelerot slowly begin to fade in, startling her. She wondered if Belenda had noticed. "Maybe he had a teleportation device of some kind?" she asked the distressed administrator.

Belenda rounded on her. "Do you honestly believe someone like him would have a military-grade piece of technology at his convenience? Maybe he died, and his body faded into the otherworld. If that's the case, then good riddance, I say!"

A book about technological gadgetry used by military organizations and the Pride Troopers was one of the reading materials she had available at the Prison library. But seeing Kelerot's body fading in like this dismissed the notion. She opened the door for Belenda.

"That must be what happened. He was too sick to survive and passed on. You should stay with those Pride Trooper soldiers until they leave," Skilette said. She faked a yawn behind her hand. "I think I'll actually take that nap."

"But—"
"It'll be fine," Skilette assured her. She wasn't forceful but directed Belenda to leave the room in haste. "We'll grieve later."

Closing the door behind Belenda, Skilette spun to see Kelerot's body solid again on the sofa, shivering. "Th-that was a c-c-close c-c-call," he said.

Sighing, Skilette threw the blanket at him. "Got any more tricks up your sleeve? Any magic you want to show me?"

Kelerot chuckled as he tried to sit, only for his eyes to roll up. He then collapsed off the sofa onto the floor. Alarmed, Skilette rushed to lift his unconscious body back onto the sofa to drape the blanket over him again. The washcloth had fallen out of her hand, but she was too preoccupied with ensuring that he was still breathing or had a heartbeat at least. She scoffed at him. "You idiot."

Skilette paced around the room. She'd occasionally watch the lump under the blanket out of the corner of her eye to see if he'd wake up. It annoyed her that she was relieved to see him breathing normally, his chest rising up and down rhythmically while in a deep sleep. If only the Pride Troopers would leave, she could throw him back out where that homeless man found him.

She lifted the blanket to reveal his face. Pale from the fever, his cheeks were reddened from his body heat. She reapplied the washcloth to his forehead and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

The door suddenly opened, startling her. In her panic, she thought the Pride Troopers would have a second look in the room to see if Kelerot had come back or not. While relieved that it was only Belenda, the look on her face when she saw the man back under the blanket still put her on edge.

Belenda quickly shut the door and pointed out the obvious to Skilette. "You said he died!" Skilette expected Belenda to have a full-blown meltdown, screaming her head off, but keeping things low-key made things so tense a cleaver couldn't even leave a dent.

"How was I to know? He keeps surprising me with new things every time. He can apparently make himself invisible…?"

Belenda hovered over Skilette. "Get your car and drive to the front. I want him out of here in ten minutes, understand?"

Skilette's eyes widened. "But I still need access to some of our supplies to help him recover. His fever needs to come down before I can move him anywhere."

Belenda pulled her to her feet, dragging her to the door. "I. Don't. Care. Get your keys, now."

Scoffing, Skilette hastily donned her jacket and dug her keys out of her pocket. She glanced over Belenda's shoulder in the room before giving her a look.

It was eerie seeing Netfiss look like a ghost town as she stepped outside. Not a single pedestrian was in sight. The lack of civilians in the vicinity emphasized how serious the Pride Troopers were in their search for that feverish man she forcibly kept hidden from them. All along the way, she cursed herself for showing compassion, knowing what his actions accomplished. She was down three friends from her job at the prison, leaving only three others who were likely still grieving over the news of their loss. Once this fiasco was over and done with, she'll spend some time with them and mourn together.

Pulling the car to the front, she saw Belenda already waiting for her with Kelerot wrapped in the same blanket. She was ready to drop him as dead weight.

Opening the rear door, Skilette and Belenda loaded Kelerot into the back seat. Once he was secured, Skilette turned to Belenda. "You realize I need time off to look after him, right?"

Belenda glared at the man in the car. "Then go and look after him. I never want to see him again if I can help it. If I do, the Pride Troopers will be the first to know, no matter how much you want to protest."

"I'm sorry," Skilette said. It pained her to see Belenda in such a state of fury. The angriest she had ever seen her before yesterday was when a scuffle broke out between two homeless people over food portions. This incident brought that to a whole new level, too distressing to watch. She hoped that when she returned to volunteer at the shelter, Belenda would be in better spirits, and all of this would have blown over.

Carrying this unconscious lump was a slog over the stairs to enter her building. Skilette was not used to carrying anything heavier than a sack of potatoes to the kitchen. This man must've weight twice as much while unconscious. At least it was a short trip to the elevator.

Once in her apartment, she unloaded Kelerot onto her sofa, draping the blanket over him. At least in this circumstance, there was little chance she'd ever have to encounter Pride Troopers investigating this building.

While waiting for him to awaken again, she frequently stared out the window for any signs of the Pride Troopers, hoping that her assumption was not foolish. It was late enough that she did not arouse suspicion, moving as quietly as she could to bring him into her residence. The experience left her exhausted, confining her to her recliner so she could sleep the rest of the night. She'd have to figure out what to do with Kelerot the next morning.

The trail runs cold

Kahseral stood beside Cocotte, watching a despondent Dyspo with his head in his hands, moping on his desk like a student failing their year after studying hard for the final exam. They glanced at each other, pursed their lips, and shook their heads.

"Do you want anything, General?" Cocotte asked. "Coffee? Tea?"

"A large boot to kick my ass with!" shouted Dyspo from his desk. He then bumped his head several times, groaning. "Maybe tea," Kahseral suggested. "Something calming."

Cocotte exited H.Q., leaving the co-generals to stoop in their loss. Kahseral didn't know which ended up longer, the day or Dyspo's face. Once the last squadron reported all-clear with no sign of the escaped prisoner, Dyspo slumped his shoulders. Defeated, he strolled back to H.Q. with Kahseral having to bear the brunt of the workload as he dismissed the squadrons to resume their assignments. All save Jiren were recalled to Netfiss to conduct their operation, which Dyspo guaranteed would've yielded results. But when the President of Netfiss only gave them a week, it knocked the wind out of Dyspo's sails.

Kahseral tapped his friend's shoulder a couple of times. "Don't give up hope. Perhaps a reduction of our numbers will smoke him out easier."

"We scoured every microscopic section of Netfiss," Dyspo groaned. "He toys with me by playing a game of cat-and-mouse."

Kahseral let Dyspo stew in his brooding for now. He eyed the wanted poster of the escaped prisoner. If the Pride Troopers couldn't find him, they'd have to put their faith in the good citizens of Netfiss to be on the lookout for him. Millions of eyes and ears all over the city would benefit them greatly. It was a basic idea, one that Kahseral hoped would be successful.

He continued staring at the wanted poster. "What's your angle…?" he muttered. He pored over the prisoner's face, reflecting on their conversation at the hospital. I'm missing something, something about the way he was looking at Dyspo and I.

It frustrated Kahseral not having access to prisoner records now that the facility was destroyed. Information was vital to his understanding of the motive behind the prisoner's escape, but the best guess he could make was that he regarded Dyspo and himself with hostility.

He glanced at Dyspo, who was mumbling to himself. No doubt he was in the middle of chastising himself relentlessly, which prompted Kahseral to clear his throat loud enough to snap him out of it. "General, I'll need your help on this one."

Dyspo gave him a look as if to say, "why bother?" Kahseral tapped on the wanted poster. "Even though Jiren weakened him considerably, he looked at us as if he was ready to kill us when we first walked into the room."

Dyspo shrugged. "Yeah, and…?"
"We were the arresting Troopers when we captured him," Kahseral told him. "No one who holds a long-term grudge would ever look at his captors with murder in their eyes, don't you think?"

Dyspo's look changed from brooding to unbelieving. "You're imagining things."

"Dyspo," Kahseral said, taking the page off the board. "You, me, and Lord Barbon were there when we almost had Captain Kurtain captured. He named this man his number one accomplice."

"Whatever Kurtain is up to, he's certainly kept a low profile these last fifteen years. Probably lost the will to plunder and pillage planets," Dyspo said. He snatched the page out of Kahseral's hands. "But a criminal is a criminal, Kahseral. If Kurtain wasn't going to pay for his crime, 841-120 was the best alternative."

Sometimes Dyspo's impulsive actions annoyed Kahseral. Grabbing something out of his hands was one of them. Taking the page back from his friend, he studied it as his device whirred and buzzed.

"What if—?" Kahseral said, pausing to consider what he was about to say with the cautious approach of encountering a beast in a glass house when it came to Dyspo's temper. "What if we were too hasty in assessing this criminal?"

Dyspo laughed. "Seriously…?!"

Kahseral's eye narrowed, cutting through the laughter. "Yes, Dyspo. Seriously. I don't like to admit that the Pride Troopers ever made a grievous mistake, but I can't shake the feeling that that was what we may have done."

A smug grin from the co-General made Kahseral roll his eye. "Kahseral, justice doesn't play favorites with any criminal, big or small. Remember what Lord Barbon told us back then? He said Belmod entrusted us with Kurtain's captivity. As long as the Cellar Pirate organization was crippled and its leaders apprehended, he wouldn't need to get his hands dirty."

Kahseral pinned the page back on the board. "Yeah, you're right. Justice is blind. But we can't ignore the possibility that 841-120 is lying low in the city. His stealth cannot be underestimated." He then shifted his gaze to the flyer recently printed for the offices to pass around. Taking it off the board, he grinned as he read through it. "Right now, we'll need to focus on God of Destruction Appreciation Day."

It was as if a bolt of lightning struck Dyspo. He sat upright, snatching the flyer out of Kahseral's hand, which resulted in the General glaring back at him. You need to curb that habit, Dyspo.

"I have an idea!" Dyspo shouted. He waved the page frantically in Kahseral's face. "I know how we can capture him and get rid of him at the same time!"

Kahseral raised an eyebrow, slowly lowering Dyspo's hand from his face. "Will you calm down first?"

Dyspo tapped the flyer furiously, emphasizing Lord Barbon's name. "Let's say you're right about how he looked at us. I bet he must hate Lord Barbon even more. Heck, I'm counting on it!"

"You're counting on it," Kahseral repeated, arms crossed. "You're saying 841-120 won't resist showing his face if Lord Barbon's in the central district that day?"

"Exactly! We lay a trap for him and use Lord Barbon as bai…t," Dyspo said before he went pale in the face. "Oh crap, he'd never forgive me if he heard me say that."

Kahseral chuckled. "I know where you're going with this. But we'll need to draft a plan of action to ensure we have him where we need him."

Cocotte returned with a tray of take-out cups filled with tea. "I'm back."

Dyspo looked over Kahsera's shoulder at Cocotte. "Good timing, Lieutenant! I need your strongest coffee!"

Cocotte eyed the cups of tea before setting the tray down on the desk next to Kahseral, dejected. "Yes, General," she mumbled.

Recovering strength

"Why are you still here?"

Kelerot heard Skilette's voice through his meditation state. He sat, floating above the floor, legs crossed and hands layered over one another. "Because this is the best place to stay out of sight so I can re-focus my ki."

He heard her voice again; only it was a loud scoff. Then the sounds of things being laid on top of a counter implied to Kelerot that she went shopping for food. The thought of a decent meal after finally recovering from his illness earlier this week was enough to ease him out of his mild trance. When he looked at her purchases, he was convinced she hadn't considered him once while she was out. She expected him gone, yet he chose to remain against her better judgment.

"Please," Skilette said, wiping her face dryly with her hands. She sounded desperate now. "I can't keep you here. Your face is all over the news, on wanted posters, everywhere they have something to display your image. If I'm found harboring you here, I'll be an accomplice and face the same punishment. You need to go."

"The more I recover my strength and my ki, the better I become at using my abilities to keep myself hidden. You'll never be seen with me, ever. Your friends at the shelter won't out you to the Pride Troopers, either," Kelerot explained. He demonstrated his assertion by phasing out of sight, making himself invisible.

The invisibility he acquired from delving came from a prisoner of the mirrori species, a race of aliens with superior survival skills. While not the one he discovered hanging from a noose that day, others of his kind were sharing the same cell block. This particular mirrori, a cousin of the previous one, could turn himself invisible but could not avoid detection from infrared sensors throughout the prison. Kutlerie and his hi-tech facility had studied each prisoner upon their arrival, yet they did not account for Kelerot's delving and training throughout his sentence. What he gained happened after he was assigned to his cell, giving him the advantage of studying everyone at some point.

Phasing in, Kelerot was confident Skilette understood his position at least, except she was having none of it. "So? I still want you gone. I can't feed you with your bottomless stomach or however you put it. And you've stressed me enough that I'm losing some of my hair."

Kelerot slumped his shoulders. "I have nowhere to go, nowhere to eat, and nowhere to train. I can't exact revenge on an empty stomach, starving to death."

Skilette continued unloading her purchases, organizing everything. She said nothing to Kelerot, leaving him hanging. He breathed a small sigh, figuring he'd go back to meditating for the time being until she was ready to have a proper talk about what to do next. If he was going to be kicked out, he'd have to resort to some underhanded tactics to get by while recovering from his injuries.

He used Jiren's meditation technique to incorporate it into his own. Having delved enough of the juggernaut helped him understand why Jiren was as powerful as he was. He may even be able to increase his strength beyond what he had acquired from healing in that tank back at the prison. As he entered into his state, he floated above the floor again.

By the time he was finished, he had caught Skilette on her recliner reading from a novel under lamplight. She glanced up from her page and pursed her lips. By the lack of sunlight, he realized how long he had been meditating but knew there was still much to be done before he could fight anyone. His body ached, forcing him to work through it as he focused his ki. He had never put himself through the long haul of recovering, regretting his habit of relying so much on the healing tank to recover and continue his training. All he could do for now was meditate and recover naturally.

Skilette placed her bookmark on her page, setting her novel aside. She handed Kelerot an envelope. "There's enough credits to last you a month. I'll let you spend the night here, but I need you to leave by morning. You probably know how to get around and out of the city if you need to lay low. A few hundred miles south of here is a small town where I grew up."

Kelerot traced the envelope with a thumb, grinning. "Thank you, Skilette."

Skilette shut her lamp off and strolled to her bedroom. "Promise me something," she said, hand gripping the doorknob. She still averted her eyes when addressing him.

"What?"

"Give up on this idea that you need to avenge yourself." This time she looked directly at him. Kelerot frowned. He gripped the envelope so tightly that Skilette's face went a shade paler. "You understand little of me. And you insult my intelligence with such a foolish promise," he said coldly. I won't stop until I see him dead at my feet.

He spotted a single tear streaming down her face before she quickly retreated into her bedroom. It wasn't for lack of empathy, but Kelerot knew he had no chance of forming alliances while on the run. Skilette and many like her, kindhearted and altruistic throughout, were beyond convincing what he believed was right about how the Pride Troopers conducted themselves. He never took his mind off his objective despite Vuon's nagging voice repeating that he wasn't a murderer. Even in his weakened state, he felt he could cause some damage. But that wasn't the message he wanted to send to Toppo. A good message would involve the two bodies of Dyspo and Kahseral laid at Toppo's feet with a warning that he was next. He sat, occasionally glancing at the novel Skilette read. A quick peek gave him pause as the novel told the story of a young man seeking revenge against his father's killer. He shook his head, placing the book back on the end table. Skilette.

Closing his eyes, he assessed his current strength. He could attempt to fly, but that would sap too much of the ki he had recuperated. He was starving again, something he desperately needed to fix if he didn't want to succumb to illness again.

He eyed the refrigerator only to look away immediately. No, she hates me enough already. It was a frightening thought on its own, chased out of this apartment while being scolded at the same time about abusing hospitality. She wanted him gone. He owed her that much, at least.

Opening the window, he searched for a means to climb down and found a pipe that ran along the wall. It'd have to do. Looking back at Skilette's room, Kelerot gave the door a small bow. "Goodbye, Skilette. And thank you," he whispered.

He phased out before climbing down the pipe, leaving the window open on purpose to let her know he did as she told him. At least he could make his way down without being spotted.

Skilette had kept him up to date on developments throughout the week until she informed him the curfew and lockdown of the city were lifted by order of the President. With more freedom of movement, Kelerot could find someplace away from the public eye and decided whether it was worth exploring the small town Skilette told him about.

However, it didn't help that his stomach was rumbling loudly. Even while invisible, the noise he was making from his gut left him worried that he'd alert people nearby who might still be awake at this hour. He looked down, realizing he was still a few stories from the ground. I didn't know Skilette lived so far up.

Risking a jump, he let the pipe go and landed, but not before his legs buckled. He lost his equilibrium and tumbled forward towards the wall of the adjacent apartment building. It caused him to phase-in, which he noticed once he saw his hands splayed against the building. Crap!

Spinning to sidle against the wall, he scanned his location for signs of pedestrians. Either these streets were dead at night, or people were still out socializing.

A sudden sharp hunger pang had him bent forward. Dammit, not now!

Stumbling forward, he sought garbage bins. It didn't matter now that he was famished; he needed to eat something. If all he could find were scraps discarded by these inhabitants, it would have to suffice.

Reaching into the first bin he could find, his hand paused. He almost forgot he still had the envelope Skilette gave him and realized what a terrible mistake he might have made. I have money, for a while at least. I can channel enough ki into making a convincing disguise last several hours as long as I don't do anything else.

He searched his memory for someone he knew from prison. As long as it was someone his size, he could change himself to mimic that prisoner. He then remembered that punk named Dishus who gave him a hard time in the laundry room. With some alterations, it could work.

Making sure the coast was clear, Kelerot focused his ki on his body. His skin tone became reddish with his fur receding, fading from brown to black. He made himself taller, but not so tall that his clothes would rip on him. Once he was confident of his appearance, he checked his throat. "Not bad, monkey-boy," he said, mimicking Dishus's smug voice.

Now to find a place to eat.

People emerged from a club, judging by the numerous lights dancing outside and the loud music inside. Someone must know of a place.

"Hey, know any place where I can grab a bite?" asked Kelerot. His hand thumbed the metal card that Skilette gave him in his pocket, eager to put it to use. He waited for an answer.

"Yeah! There's this restaurant that's open all the time three blocks that way," said the clubgoer, arm around his partner. They had bright-colored clothing and oddly-shaped spectacles on their faces, vastly different than the prisoner clothing Kelerot had seen endlessly, not to mention the red and black Pride Trooper outfits.

"Straight ahead, turn left, and you can't miss it. Justice Palace is what they call it," the clubgoer added before he started dancing with his friends again. "Shame you don't have a good outfit for the club! We're partying all night!"

Kelerot simply gave them a nod before walking past them. The less interaction, the better his chances of staying in this shape. He fought back another hunger pang before reaching the third block of intersection to turn left.

As it turned out, it was still a ways to walk to reach this Justice Palace. He expected the place to be right there as he rounded the corner but realized he still needed to walk an extra five blocks before the damn place ever appeared in his line of vision. A lesser man would've died of starvation.

"Hi, welcome to Justice Palace," said a woman server as she greeted him. "Let me direct you to a table."

Kelerot needed to hold himself up via any object he could put his weight upon. Walking with such pain would've been labeled crazy if they knew. But once he was seated at a booth, he could relax for now.

"Can I get you started with anything?" the server asked.

Kelerot dug out the card from his pocket. "There's money on this. Just charge it to however much food you can give me. I don't care what it is."

The server eyed the card oddly. "Oh, uh, okay…? We usually serve first before you pay, but I guess you're that hungry, huh?"

"I haven't eaten in days," Kelerot said. Besides those two bowls of soup, he hadn't eaten anything substantial since escaping prison. He thought himself mad with how long he's survived, but he was certain his desire for revenge was what kept him going. It would need to keep him going a little longer.

The server couldn't hide her surprise. "Oh, o-okay. We'll help fix that, won't we?" she said.

It wasn't the first place Kelerot had seen where the name Justice left him disgusted. So many stores and restaurants had Justice in their name in some form or other. Netfiss was obsessed with the Pride Troopers and justice that it almost killed Kelerot's desire for revenge. Anything to get out of this city and not see the word "Justice" slap me in the face.

Seeing food placed in front of him again after several days was relieving. No one to say that was all he could eat, no one to knock his plate over, and no one to try and make him wear his food. It was all his to eat without restriction.

Kelerot sighed, however, as he ate. Even the food tasted like "justice." It would have to do if it would keep his stomach quiet.

He ate a variety of items until he was certain he could stuff no more. Breathing a sigh, he was confident it would give him enough energy to maintain his disguise until he left the city.

It was odd seeing the card returned to him, but the server gave him a short bow. "There was plenty of money on that card, so you know," she told him. Kelerot eyed the card before placing it back in his pocket.

"If you ever stop by on May 5th for God of Destruction Appreciation Day, you'll get half off your entire meal," the server suggested, handing him a sheet of paper. Kelerot flipped it over and nearly let his face flash in anger when he saw Toppo's image on the other side.

He read the text below the image, noting the time and date. "God of Destruction Appreciation Day…? What is that?"

The question bewildered the server. She straightened her uniform, fidgeting with something before giving him an awkward look as though she hadn't expected someone in Netfiss to be unaware of the day in question.

"Every May 5th, we honor Lord Barbon, the God of Destruction of our universe. It's the greatest day in our city to celebrate our former hero of justice," the server explained.

Kelerot looked back from the page to the server. "So he pays a visit here every year to celebrate?"

"Oh, yes indeed! He comes with the Supreme Kai and his angel attendant. She's very pretty looking," the server gushed. Kelerot folded the page, placing it in a different pocket before rising.

"God of Destruction Appreciation Day, huh? I'll keep that day in mind, thanks," he told the server before leaving the restaurant.

He saw that dawn was slowly creeping over the tops of the buildings. I need to get out of here and stay out of sight to recover. There must be some wildlife on this planet I can hunt for food.

He gained enough energy from eating to maintain his form until he found the south exit of the city, as Skilette mentioned. The array of buildings had lessened until it opened up to a giant wilderness as far as his eye could see. Netfiss City was huge compared to the outdoors. He could not mistake that but seeing open land for the first time that looked beautiful rather than desolate reminded him too much of Gardenia. He placed his hand above his heart, fighting back the tears.

Approaching God of Destruction Appreciation Day

Months passed, and the fugitive the citizens of Netfiss had feared was all but forgotten. Stray posters were still left on walls, but even those had mostly been covered with pages advertising God of Destruction Appreciation Day.

The fears had been diminished due to their belief he was declared dead by the Pride Troopers when all other options had been exhausted. Normal life resumed after nearly a month of paranoia and ongoing dialogue on television programs regarding the fugitive's whereabouts and questions about the integrity of the Pride Troopers on whether they were as relevant as they were years ago under the leadership of Toppo, now Barbon, the Destroyer.

Dyspo had been in good spirits lately. Kahseral expected his friend to lament the elusiveness of the prisoner, but without a single report from a bystander coming in, they decided to scrap their plans to lay a trap and celebrate God of Destruction Appreciation Day with their old friend.

May 5th was right around the corner, and they extended their communication to all Pride Troopers to attend the day's events, including Jiren.

The stoic, mostly silent enforcer maintained a level of solitude while on Netfiss, but Kahseral was surprised that the man had actually joined them for some social drinks at The Grand Trooper. Even more shocking was that the man smiled while he was with them.

"Is this the same Jiren from before…?" whispered Dyspo to Kahseral. Kahseral dismissed the question, sipping from his glass. Dyspo wanted to down his quickly, but both Kahseral and Jiren stopped that with hands covering the top of the glass. "Hmph…!"

"So what has you in fine spirits, Jiren?" Kahseral asked. If anything was going to be an icebreaker regarding Jiren, it'd have to be something straightforward.

The pair weren't expecting Jiren to speak to them directly. His eyes casually stared out the window. "I wish to understand socialization once again. Something Lord Barbon reminded me to heed after the Tournament of Power."

Dyspo waved his hand. "Yeah. You only joined us out of your desire for justice, didn't you?"

"Now now, Dyspo, let's not shame the man," Kahseral said as an aside to Dyspo, which only netted a glance from Jiren. "That is to say; you've gained our utmost respect by adding your strength to our organization. Peace and true justice would not be possible without you."

Jiren's smile vanished. "I must express my apologies for my behavior. I have learned much since fighting those warriors from the Seventh Universe. Trust in others is not an easy feat for me to accomplish. However, I am not unwilling to attempt something new in my quest for strength."

"Uh, yeah! I can admire that!" Dyspo said. He wanted to tap Jiren on the shoulder as his way of appreciation but held his hand back, reaching to grab his glass again. "I mean, we've always trusted you, Jiren. Right, Kahseral?"

"Of course." Kahseral raised his glass. "To mutual trust," he said. Dyspo clinked his glass against Kahseral's, yet the pair were waiting on Jiren to join in. Jiren wasn't a difficult person to read in terms of his emotions. Most of the time, they were simple, regardless of how much of his past he kept hidden away. The look of a man confident about his strength and resolve was admittedly his default expression as the other Pride Troopers looked at him. It was also simple to see how surprised he looked when offered the toast to mutual trust and the compliment he received. Kahseral wasn't sure whether Dyspo noticed, but he could see that Jiren had more fondness for him as a leader over Dyspo. But he also was sure that Jiren wasn't playing favorites with anyone.

They were about to lower their glasses when Jiren clinked his against theirs. "Thank you," he told them. Dyspo was beside himself, breaking the glass in his hand. Kasheral had to pause to collect his thoughts but had to remedy Dyspo's mess first. Jiren thanking them? Those were words they never expected to be uttered from his mouth.

Composing himself with a new glass, Dyspo was starting to show redness in the face, likely both from embarrassment and signs of intoxication. Kahseral casually signaled to the server to cut Dyspo off.

"We should get down to business regarding Lord Barbon's arrival in a few days," Kahseral said to break the awkward silence. "God of Destruction Appreciation Day will require security detail of the highest order."

Dyspo tapped his fingers on the table. "We'll need our best near Lord Barbon and Cae. I think that task should fall on you, Jiren."

"Understood. You are convinced the prisoner is still alive?" Jiren asked.

Dyspo gave him a reluctant nod. "The citizens believe him dead. But I refuse to accept that. He eluded our grasp and is somewhere out there recovering from his battle with you."

"Without any of those healing serums for him to access, his natural healing would take several months before he's strong enough to fight any of us. If Vuon were here, a simple Justice Whip would secure him."

It was the first time Kahseral had mentioned Vuon since their encounter with the prisoner. It still pained him to bring up their names, knowing how much they meant to the organization. Their images were displayed at their Headquarters as a vigil to honor their passing. Even Cocotte could occasionally be seen laying a hand on each picture whenever she passed by.

"Fret not, my friend," Dyspo said, hand on his shoulder. "We'll lure him out and destroy him. For Tupper and Vuon." He turned to Jiren. "I hope you won't have any objection to this?"

"I cannot take his life, but I also will not disobey the orders of my superiors," Jiren said, drinking the rest of his glass. He left it as he rose from his chair. "I will monitor the central district for suspicious activity until the day of the celebration."

"I suppose we should liaise with the President on laying the security groundwork for this event," Kahseral suggested before Dyspo could apply his glass to his mouth. "What? Now?"

Kahseral nodded, which prompted Dyspo to down his glass quickly. "Oh, alright. It feels good to have a normal conversation with you, Jiren. We don't often do that."

"I don't expect him to get into the habit of chatting up a storm with us," Kahseral reiterated as he watched Jiren leave to take the lift back down.

"Nor do I expect it from the President," Dyspo muttered.

May 5th, Age 790 – God of Destruction Appreciation Day

Kelerot assessed his strength once he completed his meditation exercise. Securing a place in an abandoned residence several miles outside of Netfiss City, he combined a regime of meditation, hunting, and sleep to recover his strength. While in meditation, he took inventory of the techniques he delved, determining what he would use during the events to celebrate Toppo's arrival. Invisibility was out of the question. Kahseral's device might spot him with the right scan.

Shapeshifting was necessary to blend in among the crowd, but he also needed other abilities at the ready. Another was a cloning ability he delved from a prisoner named Kollund, whom he recalled told him a story of how difficult he was to capture considering the numerous copies he created to throw the Pride Troopers off his trail. However, Toppo's Justice Flash ultimately tagged many of them, leaving the original at the mercy of Dyspo and Vuon. Kelerot listened to many stories about Toppo's legendary status, building a reputation for capturing criminals without fail. Had Toppo still been the leader of the Pride Troopers, Kelerot was sure he would not be in the position he was in now.

The rest of the abilities he delved involved too many attacks that would cause widespread destruction in the city, possibly killing innocent bystanders. That was not his goal. The only casualty that mattered was Toppo's. He'd take him out first before dealing with Dyspo and Kahseral. That would have been the case had Jiren not made his presence felt. Even when his ki was calm, it was still overwhelming. Kelerot punched his open palm, doubtful he could put a dent in their best. It even left him doubtful about how much damage he could do to Toppo.

Sitting on the roof of the house, he stared at the city line, barely in view from his vantage point. I could've brute-forced through this until Jiren showed up. If I don't do something soon regarding Toppo, he'll leave, and I'll miss my one opportunity to find him. If he truly is this so-called God of Destruction as everyone's been calling him, then my only chance is to Delve him.

The thought of Delving a God of Destruction made him shiver. Could it even be possible? He hadn't considered it since all he did was Delve normal fighters like him. Delving the gods? Did Master Daikon consider such a possibility?

"Don't selfishly delve your opponent to gain more power. Your strength alone matters more," Daikon reminded him in his mind. But what if it isn't enough? What if the key to defeating a God of Destruction is to use his power against him? I can acquire incredible power if I do a complete Delve on Toppo.

Kelerot shook his head. Don't be an idiot! You promised Master Daikon that you wouldn't use Delving in that fashion!

"I know, but how else am I supposed to avenge what Toppo did to me? I want my life back, and taking his is what must be done to fulfill it," Kelerot muttered.

What would Master Daikon say if he saw you use Delving for something like revenge? Do you want him to shun you for the rest of your life?

Kelerot stood up. He began pacing on the roof, occasionally avoiding parts too weak to support any weight. "I did not train to master Delving and gravity techniques to waste them. Studying Toppo won't help me find a way to kill him. He's revered as a God, so there must be something beyond mortality that I can acquire."

You're not a God, Kelerot.

"No, but what if I could be?"

What would you gain from it?

"The power to kill Toppo, Dyspo, and Kahseral."

What then? If you succeed, you still have the rest of the Pride Troopers to contend with. You'd make yourself the target of someone else's revenge. Do you want an endless cycle of revenge, Kelerot?

Kelerot waved his hand as if swatting a stray fly. "They seek justice, not revenge."

Are Justice and Revenge not mutually exclusive under certain circumstances?

Kelerot paused. Isn't avenging someone seeking justice for a wrong that had been committed?

"No! I am not a Pride Trooper! I've done nothing wrong that warrants their justice upon me!"

Do the right thing and let them be, Kelerot. Find a ship on this planet and leave without anyone noticing. Let them have their celebration and live the rest of your life in peace without them.

Kelerot clenched his fists tightly, uttering a low growl from his throat. Wresting control of his conscious thoughts was a struggle, but Kelerot glared ahead at the city line.

"You want me to have doubts about going through with this. I get it. Part of me wants to forget the whole thing and move on, living alone in the universe without a home to return to.

"I could easily settle on a habitable planet and integrate myself with the planet's population, become a protector of sorts with the strength I've gained over the years.

"But how could I live with myself knowing the source of my pain and misery for fifteen years is going to show up in that city? How can I lay claim to my freedom if my jailor still lives?

"No, it must be done my way. Reason, doubt, and hesitation are all discarded as of now. I will Delve and gain Toppo's power and use it to destroy him. If any Pride Troopers want to get in my way, they will force my hand."

Kelerot stared at those very hands, calloused from years of hard work and training. Years he spent with a singular purpose. Up in the sky, he imagined one of the clouds was Daikon. "I'm sorry, Master Daikon. I tried as long as I could to keep my promise. I hope you will forgive me when I see you in the otherworld."

He took the folded sheet that advertised the event from his pocket and glanced at it one last time. He had an hour before Toppo's arrival. Crumpling the page, he tossed it aside before launching himself off the roof to fly back to Netfiss City.

Positions

Dyspo and Kahseral overlooked the map of Central Netfiss. It was an open district with a large fountain and a statue of Lord Barbon erected on top, posing majestically as a tribute to the God of Destruction. The statue was once an unknown figure with one leg perched on a rock, shielding his eyes from sunlight to look ahead. But the revered Destroyer had taken his place, commanding more respect from the civilians than before. School-aged children posed for pictures while families interacted with festivities, ranging from performance artists to games the children can play for prizes. One booth had a large-sized Toppo doll when he was once a Pride Trooper, hung from the top row beside a doll of Jiren. The row below had multiple copies of Dyspo and Kahseral for the children to win as they threw balls to knock over a pyramid of bottles.

It was a chore for Dyspo as he was constantly interrupted by children and adolescent females demanding his autograph. Kahseral couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. "You've become quite the hit with the kids, General."

"Shut it," Dyspo whispered. He feigned a smile to pose for a group photo, writing his name quickly on several pages and books with outstretched hands. "One at a time! Stop rushing me!"

"I think you've bothered the General quite enough, children!" Kahseral shouted, dispersing the group of younglings. Dyspo breathed a sigh, dropping to sit on the edge of the fountain. "How the hell do these kids have more energy than I do? Am I getting on in my age?"

"You think that's overwhelming? Look at Jiren," Kahseral said, nodding behind him. Jiren was stoic as usual but had to contend with crowds of people, several groups at once, posing for pictures. He didn't move from his position in front of the stage where Lord Barbon was expected to appear with Cae and Marcarita less than an hour later. The anticipation grew as more people congregated near the stage. Some sang about the Pride Troopers marching into battle, singing about their quest for ultimate Justice. It was a catchy, upbeat tune with Dyspo humming some of the lyrics to himself. "…brave heroes of Justice…."

"Excuse me," said a stranger as he brushed between Dyspo and Kahseral. They thought nothing of it as he gently nudged them aside. Kahseral's device blipped erratically for a moment before going silent.

"Something wrong?" Dyspo asked. Kahseral shook his head. "No, but this shouldn't be glitching. Are the communications devices working properly?"

"We tested them an hour ago," Dyspo said. "Why would your eyepiece glitch?"

"It's claiming some signal interference, but my communicator's unable to do that. None of ours should." Kahseral tapped his eyepiece a few times, shaking his head. The device blipped again and whirred until a spark popped out.

"General!" Dyspo cried. "Are you okay?"

Kahseral put his hand up. "I'm not injured. But my eyepiece suddenly malfunctioned and went dead."

Dyspo scoffed, spinning to scan the crowd. He searched, but the number of people made it hard to pinpoint anyone. "Did that stranger do something to your device when he brushed past us?"

Kahseral thought it over. "It would've caught any foreign objects on him had he used anything to disrupt my device. I'll need to run a diagnostic back at Headquarters."

"How long will that take you?" Dyspo asked.

"Not long enough to come back for Lord Barbon's arrival. I'll have to make do without it until after."

"Dammit," Dyspo said. "I don't want this to be a bad omen. I want this event to run smoothly, or the President will have our heads."

Fifteen minutes remained until Lord Barbon's arrival. Dyspo opened a channel on his communicator. "All Troopers, report."

"Commander Kettol, reporting all clear."

"Lieutenant Cocotte, standing by."
"Commander Kunchi, reporting all clear."
"Commander Zoiray, reporting all clear."

"Jiren, reporting all clear."

"Maintain positions. Report any suspicious activity immediately. Dyspo out," Dyspo said, closing his communicator. He turned to Kahseral. "I'll monitor from the air. You can take up position behind the stage while Jiren covers the front. With any luck, we won't have to worry about our old friend rearing his ugly head if he values his life."

"Understood."

Kahseral marched to the rear of the stage, which didn't have as much activity, but a sneak attack from behind must be accounted for.

Ten minutes remained. The Emcee for the event approached Jiren, saluting him before walking up the steps to address the crowd with a microphone in his hand. He could've easily been confused for another member of Jiren's species if his skin color wasn't lime green. But the eyes were unmistakable, and his build was nowhere near the mountain of muscle that was Jiren the Grey. He commanded a presence of showmanship that drew the crowd towards him, even before he spoke a single word. Twirling the microphone in his hand, he raised it to the air before posing.

"Are we getting excited or what?!" the Emcee shouted.

Delving the Gods

Kelerot looked back to see if he succeeded in shorting out Kahseral's eyepiece. After several attempts, there was a noticeable spark. Grinning, Kelerot moved onward. Now he won't be able to detect them.

Before using his next technique, he needed to clear some distance from the crowd. But with the Emcee making his presence known and firing up the crowd with his encouraging words, the man was drawing them away from Kelerot.

He managed a new disguise before entering the city, that of an inhabitant from the small town Skilette talked to him about months ago. He stopped by for supplies that were needed, including a few vials of that healing serum the nurse injected him with long ago at the hospital. Seeing those again was a blessing, even though they made him drowsy each time he took them.

He resembled an old bearded man about his height with blue skin and white hair both on his face and on top. He practiced the form several times before seeing a perfect likeness in the mirror. With enough ki control, he could achieve the correct form. This made things easier for him to blend in.

"In just five minutes, the greatest spectacle will be present before your very eyes!" the Emcee shouted into his microphone. The crowd roared, which made Kelerot scoff. Several stray civilians bumped into him by accident to join everyone else. I still need more space to move.

He searched for the Pride Troopers. Stretching out with his ki sense, he detected the highest concentrations of ki scattered throughout the city.

Jiren's manning the stage. Figures they'd leave their best to protect Toppo.

He glanced behind him. There's one several blocks behind me.

One was to his left and right. Covering all sections, are they? Predictable.

Dyspo was easily viewable once he looked up. He hovered above the stage, keeping an eye on the crowd. Dyspo's easy to anger. Drawing him away from the stage first will get me close.

Kelerot aimed his hand at the ground and fired a ki blast, sundering the pavement. It left a giant hole that forced some of the crowd to turn around. Kelerot zipped quickly to a dark alleyway to stay out of sight before shifting back to his normal form. That should be enough to bait him.

Crossing his arms, he set his next plan into motion. Channeling ki, he created multiple copies of himself that began running out of the alley into the streets. They weren't entirely corporeal, nor were they dressed like him. They only needed to have his image as they ran about to create chaos, making some of the civilians scream in horror.

"It's him! It's him!" Kelerot heard several shout, enough to draw even more Pride Troopers away from their positions. Shifting back to the old man's appearance, he stumbled outside the alley.

"Hey! We have an injured man over here!" cried one of the civilians. Kelerot waved her off. "It's okay! I was jumped by this thing, which I think went that way," he told her, pointing north of the crowd. Several signaled others to join them, shouting, "let's get him! Let's help the Pride Troopers!"

Kelerot assured the woman that he was fine before returning to the crowd. "Remain calm, everyone!" the Emcee shouted to them. "Let's allow our beloved Pride Troopers to catch that monster, alright?!"

Perfect, keep the crowd together. That bastard should be appearing any minute now.

Kelerot knew his Delving test would work while still under his disguise. He tested it on Dyspo and Kahseral as he bumped into them, Delving their abilities. It took some practice, multitasking his ki abilities while in prison and over the last few months, but he knew this was needed to enact his plan to draw the Pride Troopers off their game. If only Jiren had moved as well, things would be easier to accomplish. But Jiren knows nothing about Delving, only confusing Kelerot for another older gentleman interacting with the swath of people impatiently waiting for their God to arrive.

"Get ready! Here they come!" shouted the Emcee. Seconds later, a bright flash of prismatic light appeared from above, touching down in the center of the stage. Once the light cleared, three figures appeared, mesmerizing everyone. Kelerot had to pause to collect his emotions before waiting for the right opportunity. It was the first time he'd seen Toppo in the flesh in fifteen years, only he looked completely different from what he remembered.

Just what did Toppo do to himself? He was taller and more defined in his muscular structure. His face looked more intimidating than Jiren's! The face of his jailor still hid behind that thick white mustache, with imposing yellow eyes that, while friendly to these people, were nightmarish to criminals.

He searched for Dyspo's ki. It was still chasing the clones as far as he could tell. Some had been defeated, but there was still time for the rest to draw Dyspo further away from this area. It was annoying seeing Jiren still standing there, observing the crowd. A smile crossed his lips when he saw Toppo materialize from the light, offering a small nod from his head.

To Toppo's left was a smaller figure with a slick white mohawk and lavender skin. His garb certainly fit someone of his stature decked in red robes and baggy blue pants. But what struck the most about him was that when Kelerot sensed the figure's ki, nothing came back. Yet the very presence of this individual was the most serene he had ever come across. Who is that?

"Citizens of Netfiss! Please give a rousing welcome to Cae, the Supreme Kai! Marcarita, the angelic beauty, and Lord Barbon, your beloved God of Destruction!" the Emcee yelled, motioning to each one in succession. The roaring crowd was deafening once they heard Barbon's name shouted. Chants of "Lord Barbon!" rang across the area, yet Kelerot kept his sights focused on the trio standing on stage. So that calm ki is a Supreme Kai.

He attempted to sense Toppo's ki, but it was as if he stared at a blank canvas. The presence was there; only there was nothing to view. It was even stranger with the one they called Marcarita, Kelerot deduced. Angelic beauty. An angel? I can't detect anything from her either.

The Emcee droned on with questions while he interviewed Toppo, vexing Kelerot. Dammit, the clones will all be defeated when this idiot finishes talking!

He needed to speed things up. "When can we shake his hand?" Kelerot asked in the old man's voice. It seemed to have an effect as the question was echoed throughout the crowd. Some were losing patience and began moving forward to crowd Toppo and Cae. Jiren stepped forward, but Toppo waved his hand, chuckling. "It's alright, Jiren. I welcome the kind gesture."

That answers one problem. But I can't shake the feeling that either Marcarita or Cae can mess this up.

The other answer came from a group of school-aged children running up through the crowd to the stage. "Lady! Play with us!" they shouted, jumping up and down. Marcarita went red in the face, pretending to be surprised. "Oh dear, it seems I must be whisked away! Ta-ta, Lord Barbon!" she said, letting herself be led away from the stage by the younglings. The sight made Cae laugh. "You'd swear her one weakness were the innocent faces of children."

Now's my chance. Kelerot moved in with the crowd as they reached with their hands to get a piece of glory, to brag to their friends and family that they were able to touch the hands of the legendary Pride Trooper who ascended to Godhood. They were equally energetic around Cae, who welcomed them with handshakes and warm gestures. Kelerot nearly paused to consider the amount of positive energy in the air. It had such a serene atmosphere that it was messing with his mind. Dammit, don't start doubting yourself! You need to do this!

Kelerot only had to contend with several bodies separating him from Toppo. Only as he was inches away from touching him another thought danced around his mind. Could I Delve both Toppo and the Supreme Kai? Two gods stand before me.

His heart raced in his chest. He was venturing into uncharted territory with the intent of killing his jailor. Acquiring Toppo's power was the goal all along, but there could be so much to learn from the Supreme Kai. Another voice screamed in his head to stop him from reaching over the outstretched hands to lay them on Toppo and Cae, a voice that sounded like Daikon's. Remember your promise!

You're not a murderer!

You still have time to back away and leave!

Turn around!

Remember your promise!

Kelerot silenced those voices, some from Daikon, some from Vuon, and some from his conscious, by grabbing Cae and Toppo by the wrists. They were so preoccupied with all the hands touching them that they didn't consider a new pair of hands clutching them by their wrists. Cae glanced at Kelerot briefly only to give him a warm smile as a means to greet him, thinking of him as nothing more than another adoring mortal.

I'm in!

Delving was second nature to Kelerot after years of practice. He immediately sought their lifeforce, which became tricky now that he had two to Delve. His mind focused his ki inward through the trajectory to reach a crossroads of sorts, one leading to a source of brilliant light while the other was a vortex of purple and black energy that swirled clockwise.

He understood little of what these two pools of energy meant, only that he'd have to merge the two to reach both. Cutting through the middle, the two masses of lifeforce drew closer until they lay before him. He envisioned two pedestals where he could place these sources of energy on them in the shape of spheres small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. Perfect, now I can get to work on Delving everything.

Laying one hand each on the spheres, Kelerot closed his eyes. Channeling ki, he used it to blend it with the energy contained within the spheres. What resulted was a surge of power that fed back into him, jolting him back. Yet his hands were still glued to the spheres, nearly ripping his arms out of their sockets from the whiplash he experienced. As power surged through his core, Kelerot saw the energy for what it truly was. No wonder I couldn't sense anything from these two! This is God Ki!

The sights were intensified when he saw what lay before him. At the center of a vortex of cosmic wonder was the blackest energy he had ever seen. A singular purple sphere with black swirls circling it. Kelerot reached for it, only to see a stray object float into it. The object disintegrated, dissolving into a mass of particles that disappeared as they floated away. A single word resonated in Kelerot's mind: Destruction.

Destruction. Anything that touches this is erased from existence, huh? Frightening.

But Kelerot would not allow such a sight to deter him. He stretched his arms out to the cosmos, to the sphere of Destruction energy at the center. Give it all to me. Share with me your energy. Share with me your secrets, your memories. I want it all!

From Cae, he was bombarded with boundless information. Galaxies and planets visited and viewed. Multiple universes that weren't his. He had traveled and seen countless things in his lifetime. It etched itself into Kelerot's mind like a fine chisel to a marble slab. Cae's memories weren't left much to the imagination, mostly comprised of creating new planets after they were destroyed by a God of Destruction Kelerot didn't recognize. Whoever this Belmod was, he must've been Toppo's predecessor. The ability to create and summon objects out of thin air would be advantageous indeed. But what surprised him the most was the Kai's ability to teleport anywhere in the multiverse with a simple word: Kai-Kai.

He went further in, Delving through another layer to reach Toppo's memories and power as a God of Destruction. Destruction energy and the technique used to harness it: Hakai.

He considered using the Hakai technique on Toppo, but he discovered several conditions regarding his status as God of Destruction through his Delving. Most notably, a lifelink between Cae and Toppo became clear via a bright white line linking the two spheres together when he looked back at the pedestals. So I could theoretically kill Toppo by killing Cae if I wanted to.

Kelerot scoffed. As if I could do something so low. I don't know who this Cae is, but he has nothing to do with any of this. But sadly, he'll have to share Toppo's fate when I slay him with my bare hands.

There was another odd conditional rule that existed among Gods of Destruction. A God of Destruction cannot use the Hakai on another God of Destruction? Gods of Destruction must not fight one another unless sanctioned by the angels in attendance? So many of these rules I'll need to look into later to understand.

There were several techniques Toppo had used, not so much as a God of Destruction but as a Pride Trooper. Powerful techniques that Kelerot would not want to be a target for. But while he acquired a portion of the godly ki from both Cae and Toppo, he searched the Destroyer's memories for more answers regarding his arrest fifteen years ago. He Delved again through Toppo's subconscious to filter his memories.

When he found the date in question, he watched the incident play out from Toppo's point of view. He watched himself looking back at Toppo, terrified that he had been left at their mercy. He scanned for emotions, but all that came back was indifference. To Toppo, Kelerot was simply another petty criminal who had to be punished. It stung him to watch the event play itself before him, but it paled in comparison to another memory he found.

He didn't recognize the date, but he did recognize the image of Belmod from Cae's memories. It took place in a palace that Kelerot recognized belonged to Belmod, looking dejected somehow. After witnessing a ceremony take place, Belmod was nowhere to be seen. What was left was Marcarita, an angel attendant Kelerot came to know via Cae's memories, instructing the now named Barbon that there was a planet Belmod requested to be destroyed as Barbon's first test. When Marcarita took him to the planet, Kelerot's face fell.

It was Gardenia.

It can't be…! No….

He watched Barbon fire a single ki blast to the planet. The sheer power behind the impact wasted the planet, causing violent shaking and cracking before it erupted and exploded, scattering pieces across the cosmos.

His home: gone.

His people: gone.

Spinack, Sprouts, Chard, Master Daikon: gone.

Perilla. The most beautiful woman he had ever known. The woman who never hesitated to give him a good punch, smiling while she did it. The woman he gave himself to intimately. He'd never see her face again because he destroyed it.

Toppo destroyed all of it.

The sheer dismay of discovering what happened stopped Kelerot from Delving any further. He exited from the gods' lifeforce to bring his mind back to the conscious world. His hands fell from Cae's and Toppo's, hanging limp at his side as he began weeping openly before those around him. "How could you…?"

His mind went blank for a moment, still amidst his own thoughts despite what he had Delved. His hands closed into fists, his eyes locked onto Toppo. "It wasn't enough, was it?" he whispered.

He got what he came for. There was no longer a need to conceal his identity. He gained new powers and, in his delirium, had one clear goal. "You'll pay for this," he said more clearly.

His voice alerted Toppo and Cae, who was taken aback by the sight of what they thought was an old man, but the old man's features changed to that of Kelerot's. Toppo paused to stare at him until realization struck. "You…!"

Kelerot's ki burst. His aura pulsed from his anger as he floated above the ground. Civilians were blown back, knocked into other bystanders who looked on in surprise and horror. "It wasn't enough, you bastard!" Kelerot screamed.

Jiren was ready to leap into action when Toppo held his hand out. The eruption of power alerted the other Pride Troopers, the first being Kahseral. He flew up to see what happened, only to be equally shocked at the sight of Kelerot. The panic had settled into the crowd, scrambling to flee as far away from the sight of Kelerot as fast as their feet could take them.

"Stand down, Lord Barbon!" Kahseral shouted. "We'll handle this!"

"Back off!" Kelerot shouted, firing multiple ki blasts from the tips of his fingers. Toppo's eyes widened. "What?! That's my Justice Flash!"

Kahseral defended himself against the blasts, scowling at Kelerot, forcing him to maintain his distance. He pressed a button on his communicator. "All Pride Troopers converge on Central Netfiss immediately!" he ordered.

Kelerot floated back to the ground, staring at the God of Destruction. "Remember me, Toppo? The one you threw in that hellscape for fifteen years?!"
Jiren scoffed, launching himself. "Jiren!" Toppo yelled to stop him, but the man was already on the move too fast to turn back. Kelerot leaped out of the way of a strong punch and responded with a flash of his eyes, mimicking Jiren's technique. "What the—?!" Jiren said before he was thrown back by his own powerful optic explosive technique. He recovered quickly to land on his feet, glaring back at Kelerot.

"You took everything from me, Toppo! My innocence! My freedom! But it wasn't enough, was it?!" Kelerot howled, stabbing a finger at Toppo. "You had to take my home, my people, my friends, and my beloved away, too?! How much more will it take, Toppo?! Huh? HOW MUCH?!"

"Enough of this babbling nonsense!" Toppo fired back. He zipped so fast that Kelerot had no time to answer. He then found himself on the receiving end of a heavy blow to his stomach, causing him to throw up bile and saliva. Gritting his teeth, he responded by throwing a right hook to Toppo's face that knocked him back a few steps. Kelerot followed with a flurry of punches that forced Toppo to a defensive stance. I'll use your own power to destroy you, Toppo!

Kelerot's power surged, increasing its output due to the addition of God Ki he tapped into from Delving Toppo and Cae. He channeled his anger through each blow, hoping that Toppo would be left a broken mess from this. It didn't matter who was there. No one mattered except Toppo. Jiren, Dyspo, and Kahseral were afterthoughts. At least that's what Kelerot dismissed them as before being struck by a flying kick from Dyspo, knocking him through several buildings.

Kelerot willed himself to remain conscious. He needed to avoid suffering large blows that could reinjure his body to what it was before, possibly worse. If this became a fight to the death, he might as well go down swinging.

With another scream, Kelerot's aura blew away a section of the building behind him he had crashed into. He flew forward before the building crumbled, zipping in succession to get back into the fight. What awaited him was Dyspo, Kasheral, and Jiren, along with a network of energy threads below, hindering any attempt to fight on the ground. Kelerot ignored the energy, targeting Toppo directly.

Jiren was the first to respond with quick movements to knock him off course, punching him in the direction of Dyspo, who rebounded him back to Jiren. The Pride Troopers were teaming up on Kelerot fast, delivering blow after blow.

Kelerot corrected his trajectory, channeling energy to enter Dyspo's hyper-speed mode. "What the hell?!" he heard Dyspo yell.

Kelerot kept his momentum but had not accounted for Jiren catching up to him. He blocked Jiren's blows, but even the monstrosity proved faster than Dyspo's hyper-speed mode, knocking Kelerot into Toppo's direction. Kelerot flipped and corrected himself before landing on the ground away from the network of energy threads, sliding and dragging concrete with his feet before colliding with the God of Destruction.

Jiren looked past Kelerot to Toppo and nodded. His arms moved like blurs, throwing countless punches that struck hard. As Kelerot brought his arms up to defend himself, he was pelted from behind by Toppo's Justice Flash. Kelerot screamed in agony from the impact, only to watch Dyspo, Kasheral, and several other Pride Troopers mount a simultaneous assault, surrounding him. They fired ki blasts, weakening Kelerot considerably. I can't die! Not like this! I. Will. Not. DIE!

A powerful surge of energy burst from Kelerot; only the energy was different this time. He needed to survive and leave. He needed to keep these Pride Troopers off his back. He needed to illustrate a point of what he had acquired through Delving.

A dome of dark purple energy swelled from Kelerot as he howled. The dome destroyed everything it touched, erasing it from existence.

"Get everyone as far away from here as you can!" he heard Toppo yell at the Pride Troopers. "Supreme Kai, stay with Marcarita until it's safe!" he added to Cae, who teleported to the angel's location as she shielded the children with a dome of energy.

It didn't matter anymore to Kelerot. He failed to kill Toppo. He could barely keep himself standing after suffering such a barrage from all sides. All he could do was let this Destruction energy consume the city, forcing everyone to flee so he could be alone to escape.

The dome suddenly stopped growing. From outside, Kelerot could see Jiren's hand pressed against it. "You've got to be kidding me…!"

Jiren walked forward, each step pushing the dome back towards Kelerot. When it no longer resembled a dome, it shrank to the size of a ball that Jiren took and threw to the sky. The sphere ignited and created a shockwave that shook the ground everywhere, causing bystanders to fall over themselves. Jiren then pulled Kelerot off the ground by his collar. "It's over. Concede to your fate, criminal!"

Kelerot scoffed. "Never. You're nothing but a freak of nature who shouldn't exist. Next time we fight, it won't go so well for you, I guarantee it."

Kelerot then added insult to his statement by spitting in Jiren's face. The Pride Trooper violently threw him to the ground before Toppo before wiping his face with the back of his hand, glaring. The God of Destruction looked down upon him as Kelerot crawled on his hands and knees. Kelerot returned the Destroyer's look with one of his own. "I hope this makes you happy, you bastard."

He groggily rose from the ground, staggering back. His body was a mess of blood, bruises and abrasions sustained from the barrage of attacks he endured. Seeing out of only one eye, he stalked one step closer to Toppo, each step causing droplets of blood to hit the ground.

"You took everything from me, Toppo," he said, the sting of his tears trickling over his open cuts. The salty, burning sensation mattered little as he stared, pouring all of his hatred into his words. "For as long as there is breath in me, I will stop at nothing to take everything from you. An eye for an eye."

Toppo raised his hand towards Kelerot. "I'm afraid that is not going to happen, mortal."

Kelerot wanted to laugh in defiance but found nothing humorous about facing Destruction. He could tell that Toppo was going to use the Hakai on him. He braced for the pulse of energy that would initiate his erasure. Only a different pulse of energy struck his body.

In his weakened state, something had gone terribly wrong inside his mind. His ki fluctuated wildly in response, jarring his brain with bursts of power he was unprepared to face.

Grabbing his head, he staggered to the side. "What?! What's going on?!"

Another pulse of energy, stronger this time, rocked his body. Toppo lowered his hand, staring in confusion. Kelerot dug his fingers into his scalp, clawing into the pain to drive it out. "Images! So many of them! What's going on! Get out of my head!"

Flash.

A planet began to form.

Flash.

Life grew on that planet.

Flash.

That same planet was exploding.

Flash.

Sequences moved in such rapid motion that Kelerot had no method to process all of them. More images flashed in succession, with far too many words to describe everything that happened before him.

Lifedeathwarattritiondeathlifedeathdeathdeathkillhappysadfearangerdeathlifelifelifelifelife.

Kelerot screamed. Lifelifelifelifelifedeathdeathdeathdeathcreationdestructioncreationdestructiondiediedieescapefreedomfreefreefreekaikai.

Kelerot continued screaming, shaking his head. Bursts of powerful energy came in waves from his aura, leaving the Pride Troopers hesitant on how to approach him. Even Dyspo had found himself at a loss for words about what was transpiring before him.

Toppo raised his hand. "How unfortunate you've lowered yourself to such foolish standards, mortal. Consider this a mercy from your God of Destruction."

Kelerot sank to his knees, digging his fingers so deep they drew blood. "MAKE IT STOP! PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!"

He howled in agony until he could control his words for a brief moment. "Kai…!"

Amid the chaos that Kelerot created, his single word alerted Cae. He had kept a safe distance from the fight, but he could not ignore the word that Kelerot uttered in his freakout. "What did he just say?" he asked, running back to Toppo. The God of Destruction had no answer, only holding his arm out to keep him at bay. "Foolish ramblings, Supreme Kai. Pay it no mind."

Toppo approached Kelerot, hand at the ready. As he began saying the word "Hakai," Kelerot screamed a pair of words himself simultaneously. "Kai-Kai!"

Everything around Kelerot suddenly vanished, transforming into a different place entirely. Yet Kelerot was unable to process where he found himself. He continued forcing himself to scream "Kai-Kai" repeatedly in a vain attempt to drown out the flashing imagery bombarding his mind relentlessly until everything went dark.