*PREQUEL SPOILERS AHEAD*

Happy New Year's Eve! When I began writing "Touketsu", I never planned on a sequel. Nonetheless, I started getting ideas for one long before the first story was even finished. While I recommend reading "Touketsu" first in order for everything to make sense, it's of course up to you. :)

To clarify, Touketsu IS Vegeta in this story; I decided to stick with the alternate name he adopted in the first story in order to differentiate his permanent transformation from base form Vegeta as well as to denote his desire to start a new life. "The Burning Bridge" is basically all written out, but the chapters still need some refining so there will be some lag times between updates.

Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Dragon Ball GT, and Dragon Ball Super are all owned by Funimation, Toei Animation, Shueisha, and Akira Toriyama.

The Burning Bridge

Nav

Twin sets of blue eyes, still and lifeless.

Black holes and destruction.

His own reflection.

Darkness, emptiness, resignation, lifelessness.

The cries of a newborn.

The laughter of a girl child.

Red eyes slowly cracked open to the darkness, blinking twice. Arms and legs crossed and in a sitting position on the cave floor, the horned demon began to lift his head when something cold and rigid boxed in his movement. What the hell? He glanced down.

Tapering icicles, moisture trickling off them like tears, had dripped down to form around and over his entire body. With a grunt he brought his head back and snapped off the icy spears that caged his neck. His crossed arms were likewise caged within the ice, and with some annoyance he broke them free.

He rubbed his neck beneath his long, black hair before rubbing his face. He felt disoriented. Where was he? What happened? He looked up and around. Dark icicles pointed down from the blackness of the limitless cave ceiling. From the cave floor, pulsing with a weak, ethereal, blue-green glow, stalagmites of murky ice strained to meet them.

That's right. I'm back. He had chosen exile to keep his family safe from both his madness and Zhernobog. Through the wormhole technique Kuromon, he returned to the realm of the Kagemazoku, a limbo separated from both the physical and spiritual planes. When he saw himself - Vegeta - chained to that accursed wall he realized he had managed something he didn't think was possible: He had somehow traveled back in time in a realm where time stood still.

He'd instantly recalled more of the torture that ultimately transformed him and why he had been so helpless. Unable to channel his ki in this place, he had been completely at the mercy of the shadow demons holding him hostage. Before Zhernobog could inflict more torture upon his past self, he destroyed the dark god and the Kagemazoku in a vengeful rage. He was so filled with self hatred, he had been inches away from killing, Vegeta too. Instead, he decided to free him, and he sent him back home to his family just a short while ago.

He looked down at the ice that had dripped down and collected around his crossed legs, effectively cementing him to the cave floor. Had it been a short while ago? Judging by the way the ice collected around him, it seemed as though it had been much longer. He flexed his tapered, white tail and broke through the ice. A moment later he busted his legs free and slowly stood upon a pair of two-clawed, digitigrade toes, his posture stooped. He cracked his back with a grunt, grimacing as he rubbed the small of his back. He felt as though he'd been in a coma.

"How the hell long was I out?" he grumbled in a voice rough with sleep, aware but uncaring that he was talking to himself. He brought one hand up to his face and made a fist, noting how the corded muscles of his forearm flexed beneath the shaggy, black hair. He glanced down at the powerful muscles of his bare torso, the white skin reflecting the ambient blue-green light, and he shifted his weight on strong legs covered in thick, black fur.

Experimentally, he channeled his ki. His body immediately darkened, and the light raced throughout the scar-like, garnet markings on his shoulders and biceps and down the markings trailing beneath his eyes. The diamond shaped, wine-colored stone beneath his sternum burned with dark light, and his aura of dripping blue and purple flames burst forth. He relaxed and let the power dissipate, his body fading to white once more. He certainly still had no problem channeling ki here while in this form.

Other than feeling a bit stiff he also didn't seem to have suffered the effects of atrophy. But then, why would he? Everything existed in a state of suspended animation here. It made it all the stranger that the ice had collected around him in defiance of this plane's nature. He frowned thoughtfully and looked around again; the rest of his environment remained unchanged. The tapered icicles that hung from the black ceiling didn't appear to have grown any longer. Why then had that happened around him?

"Hm. Strange," he muttered to himself, the quiet words sounding deafeningly loud in the pervasive stillness. Out of sheer curiosity he decided to investigate the icicles that hung down from the stretch of darkness above him. He levitated…or tried. He scowled in confusion.

"This doesn't make any sense," he muttered. "I can obviously use my ki here now. Shit, ever since I got my memories back I've been able to channel my ki easily. I certainly used it for flight back when I fought Friez-"

Suddenly all the events surged up to his consciousness, and he quickly wanted to go back to sleep. He also found himself wishing he had wished his memories erased. But, sharing with himself the wisdom he had acquired wouldn't have been possible if he'd had his memory wiped. He had given Vegeta a warning, and sent him back home. At least in some way he'd given himself another shot with his family. He closed his eyes, one hand coming up to rub them with taloned fingers, and he heaved a tired sigh. Ironic that he couldn't glean the slightest bit of happiness in being reunited with them. He would be forever cut off. No, he didn't want to risk making the same mistakes by purging his memories. However, he was now imprisoned with them here.

He swallowed. It was so much harder coping with this loss after remembering who he really was. He could have existed as Zhernobog's instrument Touketsu for a millennia for all he knew, but it was the mere 30 years existing as the Saiyan prince that mattered. Up to his death on Namek, that was the life he now remembered completely. He remembered practically nothing as that mind controlled, demonic Oozaru, other than the fleeting sight of his own bewildered, 20 year old face. There was one influence drilled into his brain from that existence, however, and it had a power like no other: It was his slave name 'Touketsu'. He answered to it as easily as his Saiyan name.

The moment he stepped into exile, he had made an unvoiced decision: He was Vegeta no more, only Touketsu. However, relinquishing his Saiyan name was only the first step in the painful process of separation, for the Saiyan prince's mind and identity were still a part of him. Vegeta always had some objective, and he habitually obtained his objectives by training his body and mind. Touketsu stood there, silently berating himself for his inactivity when he realized how absurd he was being.

"…So what if I slept for gods know how long? I have no purpose anyway."

It was as though he was standing in the snows of Mount Eroso again, that same sentiment darkening his soul. He harbored these same feelings before being dragged into this realm. Only then, he'd had his purpose; he simply didn't know it. He snorted once in amusement, and then he chuckled.

"Huh. So here I am again. Full circle. I always seem to come full circle. Tell me, Veg - or, Touketsu…or…whoever the fuck you are. Have you figured it out yet?" He chuckled again, the sound growing into derisive laughter. His body darkened, and the light began to pulse throughout the incised markings on his body. They strobed through the markings trailing beneath his eyes, lighting up his face with rising madness, and the stone within his sternum burned hot. "Have you figured it out? Have you? You fucking FOOL!?"

With a furious burst of oppressive ki he threw a massive ball of negative energy out into the cavern before him. It imploded in the darkness, sucking its sparse surroundings into it as Touketsu laid into his prison in a fevered rage. Shattering icicles broke free, raining down on him and instantly turning into vapor in his flowing indigo aura, his howls of insane laughter echoing over the deafening noise of destruction.

"FIGURE IT OUT! Meditate on it until you go COMATOSE! Bwa ha ha! I fell asleep meditating!" He laughed at himself, his brow furrowing. The anguish within clambered up, ripping itself from his throat in a howl of agony. "WHY DID I HAVE TO WAKE UP?!" He lost himself in the futile destruction, his mind racing ever faster even as exhaustion crept up on him. He was plying the berserker with destruction, feeding the need without satisfying it. He was alone. He had no adversaries and no battles, save for the one within himself. It was a battle without end or gain.

"DAMN IT! Ba ha ha ha!" He drew in a ragged breath. "DAMN YOOOOUUU!". He bashed and blasted his way throughout the cavern in a complete rage, wielding power that would make a deity blanch in fear. Yet, he had no impact whatsoever on his world; every time he whirled around it was all back again, unchanged.

His fist connected with a wall of ice, splintering it. He froze. He had somehow ended up right were he left, at the very wall that he, Vegeta, had once been chained to. He had freed himself, yet paradoxically, he also hadn't. He stayed here to ruminate and obsess, trying to make sense of it all, only to fall asleep. He stared at his horned reflection, the face of the Saiyan prince tainted by Frieza's influence and his own innate, bestial nature.

"I enjoy crushing an enemy's life in my hands. I enjoy battle and conquest. Just because I killed under Frieza's orders didn't mean I didn't enjoy it. I did. My working for him simply satisfied a lust that had always been there and WILL always be there."

That was his declaration to Bulma, a declaration of his love for battle and his dissatisfaction with his peaceful life. It was one of the few scattered memories he had after Namek. He had left on those words to become Zhernobog's slave.

He braced his palms against the wall and slumped against it in exhausted defeat, the insanity at last ebbing. It was his very nature, his lust for battle that had brought him to this end. When he first succeeded in overthrowing Zhernobog, his desire for battle had been reawakened. He wanted to channel his newfound power into the destruction of his enemies. He wanted to decimate the Kagemazoku. He wanted his rematch against Kakarot and feel the incredible high when he emerged the victor. But first, he wanted to hunt down Frieza, his battle lust colored with a deep desire for revenge.

That desire lead him quite literally to Hell. He was defeated in humiliating fashion, and from there on out his original objective had been corrupted into a desperate fight against slavery. It was a path that lead him to nothing. He had no home, no family, no battles on the horizon, not even his Saiyan name and royal title. He had lost it all. Touketsu looked up and studied his reflection for a moment, and he snorted humorlessly. "Huh. I lost my life and my woman. What a loser," he whispered. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and dropped his head. This was a just hell he was in.

He stayed that way for a long while. "I'm sorry, woman," he said at last, his quiet words heard by no one but himself. "I wish I had the chance to tell you that…to tell Trunks that. I'm sorry for betraying you…for betraying our son," he confessed, his voice cracking. "I didn't know. I didn't who you were. I didn't know myself. I hope you're both well." He shook his head, his voice dropping to a shuddering whisper. "I'm so sorry."

Staring sightlessly downward, he blinked a little when the arcane glow within the ice seemed to grow a bit brighter. He raised his head, a fleeting sense of deja-vu' ghosting over his senses when the glow in the ice seemed to illuminate his very reflection. He leaned forward in curious fascination, staring into his red eyes. Something strange began to happen. His reflection seemed to destabilize, shifting and wavering as the intensifying blue-green light consumed it. He blinked rapidly, and he stopped breathing at the sight of what stared back.

His eyes were blue.

Trunks?

Slack jawed, he pushed back in shock. It wasn't Trunks, but the flickering image of a woman that stared back, her aqua eyes cold. He knew those eyes, and he knew that woman.

"Bulma," he breathed. "Bulma!"

Not thinking, he threw himself upon the lucent surface desperately as though he could reach the ephemeral woman beyond. Beneath his palms, the apparition flickered between Bulma and his own reflection, their wavering, glowing forms overlapping like rippling light at the bottom of a pool. Short aqua locks shifted into his own long, raven hair, the skin flashing between rosy to pure white. The reflection appeared to be speaking, and he caught a glimpse of wolfish fangs as the image continued to shift and pulse. Then, the specter stabilized for fleeting moments. His brows drew together in confusion.

It wasn't him nor Bulma; it was a woman, her hair long, black, and perfectly straight. Her skin was pale, her eyes an icy blue. Before he could process anything more, the light faded and the woman was replaced by his own reflection.

Touketsu blinked. "What? What was…What the hell?!" He snarled in frustration, bringing one angry fist down upon the wall of ice with a resounding crack. What the hell was with this place? The shadow crept over his body as the light began to pulse throughout the marking on his arms and face, and the stone in his chest began to burn with rising fury.

"ZHERNOBOG!" He thundered as he whirled around, his aura bursting forth in dripping blue and purple flames. He flung his arm out to the side, the darkness leaving his body as it raced over his hand to form the ki blade Svaroken. "Resorting to cheap tricks now?!" He shouted into the dark, his tail lashing violently behind him. "It's a different approach for you, I'll give you that. Stop your games! If you're finally ready to come skulking out of the shadows then come out already!" His pointed ears pricked expectantly, his eyes flashing in the darkness as they ticked back and forth. Nothing but silence and darkness met him.

"DAMN YOU!" He screamed, spinning around and striking the icy wall with the dark blade.

The wall instantly began to melt away from the point of contact. Touketsu backed off in surprise, letting Svaroken collapse in a curl of heavy black smoke and cold fire. He watched the flames eat away at the wall, the dark ice melting and dissipating into black vapor as a circular entrance formed. The fires burned out to reveal a long tunnel, barely illuminated by the soft light pulsing within its icy walls.

Slack-jawed, Touketsu blinked before looking over his shoulder in uncertainty. "…Zhernobog?" He queried, the softly spoken name echoing briefly throughout his cavernous surroundings.

He looked back at the entrance and raised a curious eyebrow. Was this his weapon's doing, or some trap? Placing a hand on the side of the tunnel entrance, he peered down the passageway in curiosity. Where did it lead? He stiffened and drew his hand away quickly as he backed off. He stood there for a few moments before sitting down cross legged in front of the yawing entrance, like an animal so resigned in its captivity that it was reluctant to leave even when the gate to its pen was open.

"You can come back if you wanted. You have the power to do that."

"No, Kakarot. I'm not leaving. I made a decision."

Since he had become this part Oozaru, part Ice-jin abomination, he teetered between absolute extremes: explosive rage, or ice-cold detachment. One indiscriminate and passionate, the other calculating and hollow, they both made him a perfect killing machine. It occurred to him that he had always been this way to a degree. This form however exaggerated his inherent tendencies to aberrational proportions. He was volatile, dangerous, and his very energy gave Zhernobog power. That's why he came here, however unintentional at the time. This place was cut off from Creation, the perfect place to live out his days in solitary confinement. Oh how he wished it wasn't so, though.

The tunnel was tempting him.

Abruptly he spun around where he sat, giving it his back. He couldn't leave, for there was no way he could keep an infinitely calm heart. That wasn't him - it was never him. It suddenly occurred to him that his responsibilities went beyond simply staying here. "Just minutes after awakening I descended into madness." He muttered, shaking his head at himself. "Minutes."

Although Touketsu's attacks were the only thing capable of sending Zhernobog away for a long time, the black god had made it patronizingly clear that Touketsu's energy paradoxically fueled him. He and his old master were now safely caged together, but if he couldn't learn to control his mental state and the power that went with it, then Zhernobog could amass untold strength. The dark god used Touketsu's shadow as a conduit, and while there was not enough light here to create shadow, this was also Zhernobog's home. He likely didn't need it. Touketsu didn't want to believe it, but the dark god could again gain the upper hand in the future. He took a shaky breath.

"Well. I suppose it's meditation for me again. This is certainly the place for it, and definitely the circumstances." He closed his eyes and placed his hands on his knees, back straight. "Just don't fall asleep again, idiot," he grumbled to himself. He had practiced meditation many times, but it wasn't a discipline he'd ever emphasized or enjoyed, favoring putting his body to action over centering his mind. It was time to get reacquainted with the practice.

So he meditated. Every second that ticked by destroyed the last and birthed a new one, keeping his mind in an unwavering state of merely being, time all but stopping. He didn't attain that meditative state, but rather maintained it; like standing on one leg, it required constant correction when he felt himself begin to list. How long had he been doing this? It could have been an hour….but it was probably three minutes.

His thoughts began wandering again. He was troubled by what he had seen in the mirror surface of the ice. Was he already losing his mind here? Did that tunnel actually materialize, or was it a fabrication of his mind like those apparitions he saw? Maybe the destruction was undone the minute he turned from it, just like everything else here. He cautiously looked over his shoulder.

The mysterious tunnel was still there. It yawned open, feeding his curiosity, beckoning him to abandon his self imposed exile. Where did it lead? It was probably just more of this place anyway. So…what was the harm in investigating?

He got to his feet and walked away.

Time went by, though Touketsu couldn't say how much. He had since been going through the motions of an old routine: Katas. Rusty at first, the choreographed movements soon came back to him, giving his restless body and mind some sort of outlet. Just like he had as Vegeta. Unlike him however, he would not push beyond the limits of his power now that he harbored a parasite. He couldn't channel the life force in this place, and he would NOT dip into the dark ki. He shook his head to himself as he went through his katas for the umpteenth time. All this power. All this limitless power, and if he dared use it his old master would eventually return, threatening to reclaim him.

He was indeed enslaved by power.

He was merely treading water now, keeping his mind and body occupied so as to not descend into madness. He trained. He meditated. He slept. Invariably he'd awaken, and he'd repeat his pointless existence. Then…he'd slip up. The hopelessness of his teasing, torturous existence would build, the rising madness screaming for an outlet. Inevitably, he'd surrender to the negative energy coursing through his body, and he'd slip into futile destruction.

Somehow, the thought of that tunnel would break through, disrupting his anguished thoughts and actions. He'd halt in his rampages to almost desperately seek it out. Was it still there? It always was, and the sight of it would bring him down from his madness. It became something of a comfort to him. It felt like an option, an out, and whenever he saw it he felt that he could breathe a little easier. He realized that it was in fact keeping him sane.

Days, weeks, months later, however much time had actually passed found Touketsu once again sitting cross-legged in front of the tunnel. He was staring at it contemplatively - a habit he had long since taken to doing. This time, he at last changed his routine; his eyes never leaving the tunnel, he smoothly got to his feet and finally approached it. Bracing a hand on either side of the opening, he leaned in, peering down into the darkness as he had when it was first created.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on and on. He couldn't have made that with a single strike of his blade, could he? The ki blade was arguably his most powerful attack, capable of disintegrating souls. Nonetheless, none of his other attacks had such an impact on this place. Perhaps the tunnel had always been there, hidden just behind the wall.

He took one step in. He wouldn't be leaving this plane were he to investigate. He noted how much more sane and lighter he felt at the prospect of exploring something new. He slowly made his way down the tunnel, his hands held out on either side as he kept in contact with the icy, conchoidal walls of the narrow passageway. After walking for 15 minutes with no end in sight, his mind began to wander again.

"This reminds me of those tunnels those damn giant worm-things made. What was that planet we were assigned to purge? Oh yeah…uh Remtor I think it was." He chuckled, shaking his head. "Gods, fuck that place. If I ever saw one of those worms again I'd…" He stiffened, a chill going down his spine. This tunnel really did look a lot like one of those things' burrows. He scowled at himself and pressed on. It's not like he was afraid of worms. They were just…repulsive.

"Huh, I should be so lucky to find a thing like that here. Blasting something like that to bits would be most satisfying." That was one of the rare times his cohorts dared laugh at his expense over his reaction to the local fauna. "You morons weren't laughing after I broke your jaws." He chuckled. "Listening to you two speaking over the scouter through broken teeth certainly made me laugh, though!" Touketsu guffawed loudly, his laughter echoing throughout the tunnel. "Ha ha! You idiots weren't entirely without your moments."

His smile faded. He had thought for a long time he'd be better off without those two knuckle-dragging oafs holding him back. Unbidden, the cries of betrayal from his old bodyguard filled his ears. He moved on, but like a scavenger encouraged by the scent of blood and imminent death, the thoughts tenaciously trailed after him.

Frieza had observed Vegeta's fierce Saiyan pride early on. That had to be corrected. It was a conflict of interest to harbor loyalty in one's heart for anything other than the Cold Empire, even if that loyalty was for a dead race. Turning him against his remaining people was the first order of business. Frieza was a master manipulator while Vegeta had been but a boy, naive in the ways of psychological warfare. When he was between the ages of five and eight, Frieza would punish the young prince whenever his underlings were anything less than professional in their work. "Your men, your responsibility," he'd say. The actions of the two older Saiyans were of little consequence to the emperor, but they made convenient scapegoats.

Before long, Vegeta was beating Nappa and Raditz for almost no reason; if the prince got so much as an inkling of any undisciplined thinking that could lead to sloppy actions from them and consequent corporal punishment for him, he beat them to circumvent the potential issue entirely. After the age of ten he had instilled in his soldiers a healthy fear of him. Still, there was the odd incident when they faltered in their self-discipline, and Vegeta would have to answer for it. He always sweat a little on those occasions when his berserker of a bodyguard allowed Frieza to get under his skin, and he found himself having to order Nappa to stand down.

Zarbon and Dodoria were often the private audiences to Vegeta's punishment, but never his own cohorts. Frieza knew what he was doing; if Nappa and Raditz had known why the boy prince's behavior had begun to change, they would have tried to persuade him that Frieza was to blame, not them. He also knew Vegeta would never allow his underlings to see him as anything but strong. Vegeta never did tell them. It wasn't until he found himself dying on Namek that he realized what he had become: Frieza, the tyrannical enemy of the Saiyans.

He stopped walking and looked down at his chest, and his hand drifted up to the stone beneath his sternum.

"He won't ever be gone."

He dropped his hand to his side and walked on.

After some time, it occurred to Touketsu that the glow in the walls seemed a bit brighter. He stopped, looking from left to right at the icy walls his hands were braced against. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in for a closer look. There appeared to be a spot of flickering brightness in the walls, like a blue flame in a sooty storm lantern. He walked on, his hand gliding over the ice and his eyes fixed on the wall to his right. The light sources, dancing like fire, were spaced evenly apart and glowing ever brighter as though coming closer to the surface.

He paused and looked ahead; the tunnel appeared to turn to the right, the oceanic blue light that suffused its walls glowing significantly stronger. He quickened his stride and turned the corner before coming to an abrupt stop. Cool light glinting and refracting from the mirrored surfaces surrounding him, he caught his breath in surprise. The tunnel had broadened into a true hallway. Eerie, cyanic fire flickered in evenly spaced, tombstone shaped niches carved directly into the ice.

"Wha? Fire? Actual…architecture?" he breathed in awe. Gripped by intrigue, he carefully proceeded onward. Before long the hallway emptied into a large, circular room. It looked like some sort of dungeon carved completely from the dark, glittering ice; the walls were lined with barred doors, each one alternating with a burning torch of the strange fire, and at the center of the room was a massive and elaborate spiral staircase.

"What in the gods' names?" He whispered as he approached the staircase, one hand gliding gingerly over the carved banister. He craned his neck back; the staircase spiraled upward into the darkness. What was up there? Hesitantly he looked over his shoulder, back the way he came. This was irresponsible - it hadn't been his plan to stray so far. He stood motionless, a great heaviness settling in his heart.

He looked back up at the staircase, and a thought occurred to him. He tried levitating, but without success. Well that settled it - he must have still been in Zhernobog's realm. While he could generate this strange, dark ki here, for some reason he couldn't manipulate it for flight. This place must have just been an extension of the Kagemazoku's world. Up to this point undiscovered, but part of it nonetheless.

He grabbed hold of the banister. "Hn. No harm in seeing what's up there I suppose. It's not like I left this plane," he reasoned aloud as he ascended the stairs. "What else have I to do?"

After some time, he made it to a broad landing. In front of him were a tall set of ornately carved double doors, large sconces of blue-green fire flanking either side. He ran his hand over the elaborate moulding; it was made of the same dark ice prevalent throughout this place. His hand alighted on the door handle, and his eyes narrowed. He leaned in for a closer inspection.

"It's not ice," he murmured to himself. The handle was of wrought-iron, icicles hanging from it. His fingers ghosted over the surface of one of the doors again, scrutinizing it with new eyes. Ebony wood. He turned and ran his hand over the top of the balustrade behind him. It was carved from stone. "It's covered in ice, but it's not ice." At what point up those stairs had it changed? He turned back to the double doors. Possessed with overwhelming curiosity now, he gripped a door handle in each hand and pushed. Nothing. He grunted as he pushed harder.

"Hn. Maybe I need to pull-"

The doors suddenly swung open, hitting the walls on either side with a resounding bang. Touketsu stumbled through with some surprise before quickly shutting his eyes at the sudden assault of light. Squinting through watering eyes, he let his vision adjust to his new surroundings. He straightened and blinked in astonishment.

He was standing in a broad, long hallway that resembled the nave of a Gothic church, its checkerboard floor composed of large tiles of streaked marble in blacks and whites. He looked up at the crossed framework of the expansive ceiling overhead, the ribbed vaults glittering like crystalline ice. Cool light filtered through the tall, stained glass windows lining either side, illuminating the hallway with pastel fires of pinks and greens. Alternating between them were sculptures of quartz crystal and white jade, each one depicting different alien species cradling their young. He recognized some of them. The walls were made of what appeared to be heavily included rock crystal, variegated patterns of milky white and water-translucent stone giving it the appearance of occluded ice.

Touketsu rubbed his burning eyes with a clawed forefinger and thumb. He had been in the darkness for so long. The light here was soft and muted, but it filled the white hallways to the point that it was blinding to him. It smelled of fresh mountain air here, crisp and almost electric. He flared his nose, his heightened sense of smell attuned to the blood of the living, but found nothing. He spread out his senses and stiffened, taking a sharp intake of breath when something familiar and undeniable suddenly registered: Life Force.

Hesitantly, he attempted to levitate…and effortlessly lifted off the floor. He abruptly dropped back down. "Ok, that's it," he breathed, breaking out into a sweat. "I shouldn't be here. I don't know where the hell I am, but I shouldn't be here." As much as he didn't want to go back to the nothing, he had a made a choice to stay there. It was safe. They were safe. He had made a commitment. He turned to leave.

The doors were gone.

"Shit," he hissed, running a hand through his dark mane. He glowered at the wall, his energy pulsing as his body darkened. No. Maintain control. He didn't have to use the dark ki now that he once again had access to Life Force. He brought his palm up to blast the wall. Seconds ticked by. He stood like that for several more moments before the barest trickle of energy began to collect in his palm.

His brows drew together in bewilderment over how unnaturally long this was taking; he could actually feel the struggle to connect. It was like when he was first learning how to use the dark ki. Was he that out of practice? If levitation came to him easily he must have simply become more accustomed to using the dark ki in attacks. A few seconds more and the blue-white energy gathering in his palm finally grew to a reasonable size. The blast was released into the wall, shattering the stone. Fine powder rained down in scintillating, fragmented rainbows, and the dust settled.

On the other side was another hallway. Touketstu gaped. "Wha? Damn it," he growled. He stepped through and looked from one side of the hallway to the other. "Hang on," he muttered, and he stepped back through the ruined wall. The sculptures were the same as the ones he saw in the hallway behind him. The spaces were reversed, but identical.

"What the fuck? DAMN these fun houses of fucking mirrors that the gods call-"

Wait. Was he in Otherworld? Either that or this was magic he was dealing with. He looked down the long, vaulted hallway that called out to him. I could risk Kuromon. I can get away with using the dark ki from time to time. Perhaps I can open a gateway right back to Zhernobog's realm, just as I did before. He stood, deliberating. He had gained control over the technique by leaps and bounds, but it still proved unpredictable when he wasn't consumed in the rhythm of battle. Kuromon tended to take him where he subconsciously wanted to go; he therefore wasn't always aware just what the destination would be. He had essentially created the portal to Zhernbog's realm by accident, so intense was his hatred for the dark god as well as towards himself.

He had to concede that his conviction was wavering; he truly did not want to go back to that void. If he wanted to go anywhere it was straight back to his family. Was it worth risking the temptation? He wanted so badly to see them face to face and atone for what he had done. Perhaps if he could just do that, he could move on. He looked down the long, crystalline hallway stretching out before him.

He began to walk.

He spread out his senses again. Aside from the Universal Life Force, he could detect no ki, but he supposed the ability was still very new to him. From what he could see though, the place appeared deserted. The hallway soon emptied out into an expansive arcade. In the center of the floor was a large, inlaid motif that appeared to depict the phases of the moon: A white circle braced on either side by opposing crescents, the "waning moon" laying directly in front of him. Straight ahead, framed by burning sconces of aqua fire and glimmering at the other end of the hallway, were a set of elaborate double doors that seemed to glow with a pale, preternatural light.

He tore his eyes away to look to his left. Some distance down a broad vestibule was another set of intricately carved double doors, so enormous they reached almost up the hall's lofty, vaulted ceiling. The entrance to the palace? One door of white onyx and the other black, each was graced with a raised relief of an Eastern lung. Even from his distance he could see the large, sparkling sapphires and beryls that detailed the ascending dragon on the white door, garnets, rubies, and amethysts adorning the descending dragon on the black one.

He looked to his right. A short distance away was a room, its tall carved double doors ajar. He took a few steps forward, peering in. The layout appeared circular, tiered seating encompassing its periphery. A set of steps led to a dais upon which sat a tall seat that could have been a throne. If it was a throne room, it was an empty one.

He looked ahead to the first set of doors that had captured his attention and proceeded towards them. When he reached them, he tilted his head back to take in the towering doors that practically reached the ceiling. They were of translucent, creamy white jade. Silver and pale gold filigree were inset into the intricate patterns carved into the beautiful stone, capturing and reflecting the light from the cerulean fires burning on either side. He placed a hand on the door before putting an ear to it. Hearing nothing, he gave a careless shrug and pushed the doors open.

The entrance opened into a true throne room. He slowly walked up the aisle, his talons clacking over the floor of polished hematite. Its smooth, dark surface like that of a scrying mirror, it reflected his form perfectly as he took in the sights. Pillars of streaked agate in alternating black and white lined the hall. The walls themselves were of rock crystal, the inclusions within the transparent stone reflecting the cool light that filled the room.

An enormous, domed skylight was set at the top of the archway at the back of the immense room, and unbelievably, a light snow was falling from the ceiling. The colors filtering through the pastel stained glass of the skylight illuminated the glittering snow, and his eyes followed the soft flakes as they drifted down to an elaborate throne of coruscant diamond. His brows drew together when the snows quickly began to swirl and coalesce, the condensing white snows glowing with light as a distinctly humanoid form took shape. As if by magic a regal woman materialized to sit upon the previously empty throne.

Her hair was long, straight, and jet black, reaching down far past her back. Her pearly, translucent skin was so pale it was almost white, and her icy eyes were lined in a deep purple. She wore a flowing, embroidered kimono of white, lavender, and pale cherry-blossom pink, its long, broad sleeves practically swallowing her gracile form.

Upon her head she wore an elaborate white and silver headdress that resembled a half-moon turned on its side, its tapered edges pointing downward. It was studded with flashing, precious stones in various delicate shades of blues, greens, and pinks. Extending from one tapered end of the headdress to the other, sparkling jewels and luminous pearls hung in numerous strands to hang beneath her face like so many necklaces. The pupils of her large, almond-shaped eyes were a cobalt blue, set in cold, blue irises barely lighter in shade.

Her long, tapered nails were curved and black, and in one hand she grasped a long scepter, as clear as an icicle. A silver, crescent moon-shaped headpiece not unlike the curved, harvesting blade of a boline hovered over the top of the staff in defiance of gravity. Like the pupils of her eyes, her bow-shaped lips were a dark sapphire. They parted slightly, barely revealing the pointed canines of a predator.

"You've arrived," the woman spoke in a feminine voice that rang with poise and authority. "You are the first to do so without crossing the bridge."

Touketsu stared at her for a moment. He turned on his heel and began marching in the opposite direction.

"That is awfully disrespectful," she chided cooly behind him.

He waved a hand dismissively in the air as he walked off. "I care. I've dealt with enough gods and demons in my time. Goodbye." It was the woman he saw in the ice. More deities toying with him? Fuck this noise.

He was halfway to the open doorway when it quickly sealed off, a solid wall in its place. Touektsu halted, back straight. He made a quarter turn in her direction, irritation etched into his face.

She raised an eyebrow in challenge as she rose from her throne. She was tall for a woman, just a bit taller than that blonde he destroyed. "My name is Queen Marenna, the ruler of the Kingdom of Nav. You're a guest here, and as such I expect a degree of respect."

Touketsu snorted. "Respect? I owe you nothing, woman, and I'm no guest. I merely made a wrong turn."

"Be that as it may, I expect you to show some manners and properly excuse yourself before you take your leave."

His rising ire getting the better of him, the shadow cast over his body as the dark light strummed within. He would indulge it this one time. He wasn't about to lose face by struggling to channel an inferior power. He lifted a palm up to the wall behind him. "I suggest you bring the door back or I'll redesign your charming little abode," he replied calmly.

"Even royalty is expected to bow before royalty when a guest."

Touketsu quickly tamped down the fleeting surprise that she knew of his royal heritage. His upper lip curled in disgust. Why wouldn't she? All these blasted gods were in on their little game, weren't they? He smirked, completely dismissing her. "Hope your pretty little palace is insured, woman," he chuckled derisively as he charged the blast.

The boline at the top of the woman's scepter quickly changed shape. Like a waxing moon, it became a perfect circle of the purest silver. She moved it only slightly, and for the briefest moment Touketsu caught his reflection. The light bouncing off the smooth, silvery surface of the headpiece caught his eyes, and his heart sped up. He could hear the blood pumping through his ears, and he aborted the blast in surprise as his body blanched back to white. He blinked, and his eyes were instantly a blank red.

He was becoming the Demon Oozaru.

He looked to the woman in shock, his labored breathing quickly descending into a desperate pant. Her scepter held before her, she descended the raised, crystalline dais and began to walk towards him. He took a step back.

"Whatever it is you're doing, stop!" He shouted in a guttural voice.

"Why?" She asked calmly. "What do you fear so?"

With a desperate groan he collapsed on his hands and knees as his body began to shift into its quadrupedal form. His nose and mouth began to lengthen into a muzzle, and his body began to grow. "You little bitch," he growled in his ever deepening voice. "Do you want me to destroy your cute little home entirely?! STOP!"

The woman slowly circled behind him, the light from the scepter increasing. "Why? Is this not your true form?"

The shadow of the forming Oozaru grew before him. It was happening all over again. All he could think of was the Kagemazoku army pouring out of his shadow, their overwhelming numbers subduing him. While in this form, Zhernobog could enslave him once more. His family would be in danger again. Everything would be in danger. "Stop you fucking witch!"

"You need to work on your manners, dear prince."

"Stop. Stop it!" He raged. The shadow before him darkened, becoming larger and larger as his body grew. His curving horns grew longer, his panting increasing in apprehension. "Stop this!" He cried, his deep voice cracking in growing desperation. "You don't know what you're doing. Stop it! PLEASE!"

The flat, disc-shaped headpiece of the staff waned back into the shape of a crescent. Touketsu's shadow disappeared, and his body shrank back down and returned to normal. He remained on his hands and knees panting in relief when the delicate, shimmery robes of the woman came into view.

"This is what it takes for you to offer a bow of respect?"

Touketsu's eyes flared. Snarling, he scrambled to his feet. "You little-" His words were cut off when the boline that graced the top of her staff flared with light, its crescent shape waxing into a semi-circle. He bit down his outrage and glowered at the woman. "Alright, you bitch. Just what business do you have with me?"

She eyed him cooly. "Are you not the one that skulked out of my cellar like the boldest of rats?"

Touketsu's jaw hung open at the blatant insult. "Wha?"

"Am I not speaking your language?" She asked, her fine eyebrow arching up in the barest of amusement. "The base language of disrespect?"

"How DARE you-" he reigned himself in as he cast a quick glance at her scepter, gritting his teeth with a scowl. "Look, I didn't intend to come here. I thought you damn gods know everything there is to know about everyone. Don't you know that, then?"

"I know little about you, actually. Perhaps you can tell me more about yourself?"

"Piss off."

"I see." She smiled a little. "I will allow your rudeness to slide. It is apparent that a barbarous lifestyle has overridden the etiquette expected of royalty. So, I will take it upon myself to set an example. If I extend my hospitality to you, offer you food and drink and a place to stay for the night, will you tell me a bit about yourself in the morning? Perhaps your stay here will even breed in you a sense of decorum."

Condescending bitch. Touketsu willed his stomach not to growl at the mention of food. The gnawing pangs of hunger had slowly been creeping up on him ever since he stepped foot into this palace. His pride won out however, and he crossed his arms with a frown. "No."

She merely smiled. "Very well, then." The entrance to the throne room rematerialized, its doors ajar. She walked around him and proceeded out of the room. "I'm sorry you've decided to make your stay so brief," she said, her back to him. "If you go back the way you came, you'll find the cellar doors. Please excuse me for not escorting you there myself, but I really must attend to my subjects now. They are waiting."

Behind her, Touketsu fumed. This whore-queen had the audacity to humiliate him like that and then just blow him off? Then she tells him to go back to what she referred to as her fucking basement?! Oh hell no.

"Hey! You!" He barked as he stalked up to her and fell in step. "You're one to criticize my upbringing. You insult me and then try to leave without so much as an apology for that little stunt you pulled back there?" He snapped, jabbing a thumb in the opposite direction. "Huh. Subjects my ass. I haven't seen a single one of your so-called subjects since I've been here, Queen Marenna."

"Well of course not. They're all gathered for the tournament."

"…Tournament?"

"Yes. The martial arts tournament is held every evening in Nav's royal battle arena, Volkfangr." She glanced over in his direction, her pace slowing to a stop as she read the intrigue in his face. "Would you…care to attend?"

Touketsu was rendered speechless as he actually considered the offer. A martial arts tournament? That sure sounded a hell of a lot more fun than going back to that cave.

"There will be refreshments there as well," she added upon seeing his indecision. "That way you won't be leaving on an empty stomach even if you decide not to stay for the banquet after."

A that moment his stomach growled quietly. Shit. He hoped the hell she hadn't heard that. Judging by how warm his face felt, it was apparent that his body was continuing to betray him. If he was being honest with himself however, even these sensations were welcome. He didn't experience hunger in Zhernobog's realm, and he felt little other than the constant torment in his brain.

The thought of actually experiencing the taste of food again and possibly watching a good battle was becoming too enticing to turn down. Couldn't he allow himself this little indulgence? He could leave afterwards. Doing this could in fact mitigate the madness before he returned to his cell.

With the air of insufferably bored royalty he heaved a weary sigh and rolled his eyes. "Fine. If this is your desperate way of an apology, I accept your invitation."

Marenna smiled. "Excellent. As my guest you will join me in the Imperial Box to view the tournament. I think you will enjoy it, dear prince." Touketsu only gave a curt nod in answer, eyeing her suspiciously once she turned to lead the way. Together, they walked through the hallway to the arena.

Hope you enjoyed the first chapter! I'm into different mythologies and folklore (Japanese and Norse in particular), but in the past several years I've been developing a greater interest in those of my Slavic heritage. I made a nod to Chernobog in my first story, but there will be a lot more references to Slavic mythology and Slavic folklore in this one.

This first chapter pulls some elements from the folk tale of "Dobrynya and Marinka" which in turn relates to the Slavic mythological tale of Dazbog, the sun god, and Morana, the goddess of winter and death. It was quite coincidental that Morana's traditionally described appearance happens to have some similarities with Touketsu Vegeta.

"Nav" is the Slavic underworld, and I loved the sound of it so much that I decided to leave its name as is. Please do leave a comment and any constructive criticisms you have! Thank you for reading!