Author's Note:

TRIGGER WARNING: Near the end of this chapter there is a violent scene alluding to rape and cannibalism. I edited it for FF, but if you want to read the unedited version you can find it on A03 on my account "LupinGoddess".

AnonymousDBZFan, First off, I want to say how HAPPY I am you're still following this story! I know it's been quite a while since I updated, and I didn't expect to hear from you after this lengthy hiatus. I'm so glad you found it out and are still enjoying this story. It really made my day to see your review! 3

Thank you so much for letting me know what you appreciated! While it's fun to get into the "what ifs" about Saiyan culture, I never found the prince to be a realistic way to demonstrate it. He was a kid when his world was destroyed, and he was raised in the world of the PTO. I imagine there is a lot about his culture he doesn't know about, or he simply forgot. Vegeta always struck me as a pragmatist, and an elitist one at that. Why wouldn't he look at weaker beings as "lesser" and on par with animals? It wouldn't have bothered him much to feed on their remains, gruesome and wrong as it is.

I love that that you're becoming intrigued by the original characters as more is revealed about them. I always found it a slippery slope when it comes to incorporating OC's into a fanfiction; I never want to give an OC too much screen time in a given scene because it IS a fanfiction after all. Central focus should be given to canon characters, and I already feel I walk the line there because I've been referring to Vegeta as "Touketsu", which makes him sound like yet another OC, lol. It helps that most of the characters refer to him as Vegeta after his cover was blown, reminding us that "Touketsu" is more like Vegeta's alter ego.

...Alter Ego Vegeta, lol.

As ever, after reading your lovely reviews I find myself on the verge of spilling the beans. I won't though! I will say that we are strongly on the same wave length. ;) So happy to see you're still following and enjoying this story. Thank you for reading and for sharing your thoughts on the last chapter! 3

Drained

The felled animal's executioner could be faintly seen in the curved reflection of its clouded eye, its lifeless body jerking every so often as the predator tore at it. A clawed hand plunged up into its ribcage and ripped its heart out, spattering blood across scaled armor.

Touketsu sank his teeth into the tough muscle and ripped off a hunk. So far, it seemed that the princesses stayed true to their word. Two weeks had passed, and every night after the Tournament he headed straight to the Necropolis to hunt. With everyone at Susmir, he needn't worry as much about keeping a low profile, and he was always gone before anyone hit the streets.

He chewed, his facade dark and his thoughts growing darker still as he brooded. He had beaten a Super Saiyan 3 Kakakrot to near death and took a gilt Frieza's head off his shoulders. The Supreme Kai himself trembled on his knees before him. He defeated that fire daemon Zeygorn twice. He was all powerful…but it didn't feel that way. He had to be careful about how he used his power, but ironically that wasn't much of an issue; the uninspiring weaklings he fought rarely warranted the dark ki. Denied a worthy opponent to push his abilities, the tournaments had quickly ceased giving his battle spirit any satisfaction. His soul was starting to feeling as malnourished as his body.

The elk on the Necropolis had initially maintained his strength, but he could now see the princesses' points: One couldn't thrive on this food for long. He was still more than a match for his opponents, but his training was taking a hit as a result of his insufficient diet. He swallowed and looked down at the carcass. It was always a race against time before the fast moving stages of decay settled in. He had better get to gorging himself to best take advantage of his kill.

He slumped back into a sitting position into the snow. Dispassionately, he watched the carcass in front of him slowly but steadily decay, its once supple hide growing taut. Its cow-like eyes rolled into the back of its skull, its now empty orbits staring up at Touketsu. There was no point in feeding like a desperate animal, and he was sick of feeling like one. He needed better nourishment if he was to push himself in his training. His pride wouldn't allow him to go crawling to Susmir like some beggar, however. He'd sooner use Kuroshimo to restore his energy.

He began to consider it. His endurance during his ki rehabilitation had dropped off sharply. It had been three weeks, but the dull ache left by Raditz's attack still lingered in his chest. At this point, using Kuroshimo could help more than hinder. With his energy restored, he could continue with his ki rehabilitation and improve his body's natural recovery. He rarely used the dark ki - he could get away with this once in a while. He nodded to himself. He'd employ the draining technique next time he was in the arena. Then again…

Why wait?

The still night was broken by boisterous laughter. A group of seven Inimicus, upper echelon 4th Quarter fighters, had returned to their camp from Susmir. Fed and drunk and a light snow falling around them, they were engaged in a spar that was fast descending into a spirited brawl.

"You guys are no challenge at all!" crowed Donamast, a massive, tusked warrior bristling with a vermillion aura.

A boar-like being sat up from the ground, cradling a completely shattered jaw. It quickly snapped back into place as though nothing had happened. "Big talk coming from the guy that lasted 3 seconds in the aren-"

A pair of clasped hands came over his head, driving it down past his shoulders and breaking his neck and collarbone. "Shut up, Wrodac!" Donamast raged. He kicked the still body aside, sending it rolling. "It was five minutes! At least I can claim to have fought all the way to him. Can you claim the same?!" Wrodac's spirit body snapped back into position as he drew himself up to his knees, his compatriots standing warily around him.

"It's cool, it's cool, Don," said Taca, a lanky, grey-skinned alien. "Hey how about another drink? Think we could use a break after that round you put us through, heh, heh."

"Hm. Smartest thing you've said tonight." The group sat down on some logs surrounding a campfire and began passing around a large, earthenware jug of sour, fermented berry juice. Given the fast rate that organic material broke down on the outskirts, alcohol was the one thing that was quickly produced among the Inimicus. Unlike the alcohol served at Susmir however, the rotgut the rouges brewed left killer hangovers.

The jug made it back to Donamast, and he greedily quaffed the rest of the contents. He released a belching sigh and angrily chucked the earthen jug into the campfire, making his lackeys jump. "Fuckin' poser, actin' all high and mighty." He snorted, then chuckled. "Man, I'll forever remember that night when the queen knocked him off his pedestal and down here with the rest of us." They all laughed. "Shit, that snooty, royal dandy probably still thinks he's better than us."

"Think that's why we don't see him at Susmir?"

"Fuck yeah, I do!" He began flourishing his pinky finger. "Oooooh, look at ME!" he said in a high voice dripping with exaggerated aristocracy as his cohorts laughed. "I'm a PRRRRINCE!"

"Your impersonation needs some work."

They all started at the familiar, gruff voice. A soft clanging of armor broke through their sudden silence as the figure lazily emerged from the woods.

"Touket- er, Veg, uh, pp-Prince Vegeta, hey! Hi! Heh, heh." Taca sputtered awkwardly. "Haven't seen you around."

"Come to mingle with us low-lifes?" Donamast snarked, his mirth instantly evaporating at the sight of the demon Saiyan. His pals' eyes bugged wide as they looked at him aghast.

Touketsu only smirked. "Your friend there has had a little much to drink, I think," he told Taca.

"I'm right here, fucker," Donamast snarled as he stood. His buddies frantically began shushing him.

"Ha, ha, ha!" Taca laughed forcefully, the anxiety dripping off him like sweat. "We're just having another round. Uh, wanna join us? We still got a couple jugs kicking around."

"I'll pass," he said pleasantly, his cold smile still unnervingly in place.

He'd come to put their life force to better use, but after weeks of slaughtering the two weakling boys and squaring off against a single unworthy nightly, he realized that he had another need that required satisfying. He'd spent too much time conforming to Nav's rules and keeping a low profile while he struggled privately with his degenerating health. He was frustrated with the plateau he'd reached in his training, at a loss as to how to make his infinite power his own. He was sick of feeling weak, sick of tiptoeing around his jaw dropping abilities out of fucking fear. He should be feared. He was all powerful, damn it!

He should feel that way.

"I couldn't help but overhear that you were looking for sparring partners," he said as he looked back to Donamast. He held a clawed hand out in invitation, his smile broadening into a toothy grin. "You game?" Touketsu didn't wait for an answer, and Donamast was sent tumbling into the forest with a clawed kick to the sternum. Cackling with glee, the demon prince was upon him in an instant. They traded blows as the rest of the group ran up to gawk at the ensuing brawl.

Donamast wasn't shackled to his temporary physical body as he was in the arena. While his spirit body mirrored the one he had in life, it was far more resilient. Being a projected construct of the soul's essence and memories, injuries instantly healed and severed body parts regenerated within seconds. What's more, damage wasn't experienced as true pain but instead merely as sharpened awareness. These facts didn't seem to be giving Donamast the upper hand, however.

"You're a more durable punching bag without your body," Touketsu laughed. "That's good, because I'm in need of a real workout."

Donamast snarled as he was pummeled and humiliated in front of his underlings. His head was blasted off, and he landed backwards onto the ground. He sat back up as his head ballooned from the stump of his neck in almost comical fashion. "Are you losers going to take this lying down!?" He cried out. He threw a finger towards Touketsu. "I've had enough of this posturing hypocrite! This fucker has a body and we're not in the arena. Come at him together and we can KILL this son of a bitch!"

His cohorts were shocked at the suggestion. "What?! We do that and his soul will be sent to King Yemma! Queen Marenna will know…his Familia…everyone will know! We'll all be punished-"

"SO?!" He thundered as he stood. "You thinned-skin shits - this freak of nature shouldn't even be here! I'll happily do my time in another hell if it means taking out this demon! Now who's man enough to join me?!" They looked at each other, persuaded by their leader's fervor and their own drunken minds demanding they avenge their egos.

"Yeah!"

"Send the bastard to Yemma!"

"Let's get him!"

The entire group launched at the laughing demon prince. A clawed kick tore out one's entrails before he spun a windmill kick into the heads of three others, breaking their necks and shattering their faces. Amused, he paused to watch them clamber to their feet, their grimacing heads dangling awkwardly from broken necks.

He crossed his arms and threw his head back in laughter at the display. "How does immortality feel?" Lunging forward, he plowed a clawed hand into one man's gut, yanking out his spine and viscera before driving a bone shattering elbow to his neck. "No death! No age! Only an eternity of amusement for ME!" The rest of his comrades temporarily downed, a rebounded Donamast launched himself sloppily at Touketsu's back in drunken outrage.

Grinning, Touketsu whipped around to catch Donamast by his throat. His body darkened to black, his coursing energy chilling to a gelid blue as the mirth dropped from his face. "Kuroshimo."

Donamast gasped as the spirit flesh blackened beneath Touketsu's fingers. The large man dropped to his knees, and to his horror, he felt his existence waver. "Wha - what are doing?!" he choked in panic, his hands gripping Touketsu by the wrist.

"Replenishing my energy. Important after a workout."

His prey groaned as he weakly struggled. Touketsu looked impassively as the Inimicus's body began to waver and flicker like a dying flame. Then, a pearly white fang cracked from his ebony face before broadening into a cruel smile. He licked his lips, and his cold, dripping aura began bleeding to a sanguine color, the light pulsing through his markings shifting to a dark red. The black shadow covering his body started rhythmically shifting in shade, the darkness pumping into his dripping red aura. It changed to purple, the light running through his markings matching in color as the liquid-like energy around him began curling upwards like a cloud of poison.

Something was coming over him. Touketsu was no longer in a detached, indifferent state, nor was he in the passionate throes of battle. His mind was now lost in a cold, calculating, but intensely cruel place as he continued to drain his victim. His red eyes flashed with savage mirth, a burning corona of purple energy wreathing the pupils. "What's this? Your spirit is giving out already? Huh. You truly are a weakling." An expression of morbid curiosity overtook him. "What would happen to your soul if I kept going, I wonder? Would you disappear?"

Slack jawed, Wrodac stepped forward. He could barely believe what he was seeing and feeling: Not only was Donamast's energy signature fast diminishing. His essence - his very soul - was disappearing. "S-stop," he whispered, stunned. His eyes widened in realization. "Stop! You're killing him!"

Touketsu looked over his shoulder; The pupils were gone from his red eyes, their centers glowing bright with purple energy. "Are you going to help him?" The Inimcus huddled together on the fringes, petrified in terror. His lips spread into a wide grin, and a throaty chuckle escaped as he turned back to his victim. "Feel free to jump in anytime, my little friends."

"Vegeta! Prince Vegeta, please!" shouted Taca. "His Familia need him to move on! You destroy his soul and they'll be stuck in purgatory!"

Touketsu's eyes, which had been dancing with sadistic amusement, suddenly flashed to the burning, blank red of the Oozaru. In one pulse the darkness left his body completely to join his aura in a nightmarish haze of black and purple energy. Hand still gripped over Donomast's throat, he whirled around. "SILENCE!" He shouted, his voice dropping to a demonic timbre. "I WON'T HEAR YOUR LIES!" He threw his hand out.

A ball of purple energy wreathed in darkness jettisoned straight at Taca, striking his spirit body and consuming him in purple fire. Instantly reduced to a flaming, skeletal shadow, he disappeared in a burst of embers. The others gaped. "He…he's gone!" Wrodac screamed. The remaining Inimicus turned to flee.

"YOU STAY PUT!" Touketsu roared, his hand outstretched towards the group. Trembling, they obeyed. He whipped his head back to his victim, his roiling purple aura still enveloping his now pale body. "THEY DON'T NEED A CREATURE LIKE YOU TO MOVE ON," he growled in his deep voice. He saw himself, Vegeta, at the end of a shadowy blade.

"I wished to die! We SHOULD die! I want YOU to DIE!"

He blinked and saw Bulma being held out at arms length, her bobbed, blue hair whipping about as he threatened to drop her. Blue eyes filled with terror latched onto his. The Oozaru's influence left his eyes, but the centers of his red irises still burned dangerously with purple energy.

They moved on. Bulma and Trunks…they're alright.

Blue eyes filled with tears of rage and betrayal drilled into his. Then, the life left them.

You don't know that.

With a snarl he released the man's throat to grip him hard on either side of his face. Touketsu leaned down intimately close, so close the horrified man could see the enraged demon's eyes glistening with tears galvanized in purple energy. His body again darkened to black. "No one needs you. Do you hear me?" he whispered slowly, his voice back to normal as he squeezed. "No one!"

Touketsu continued to drain him as the others looked on in horror. Within seconds Donomast's flickering spirit body grew gaunt and grey, eyes glazing over and flesh beginning to shrink and wrinkle like fast desiccating fruit. Lips pulled back from teeth into a skeletal grin, and Touketsu's fanged rictus broadened in mimicry. He giggled madly, molten purple energy spilling from his eyes to channel into the incised markings over his cheeks. His victim's milky eyes rolled back and sucked down into empty sockets. Touketsu's chuckling exploding into deranged cackles, sending the ravens in the boughs above flying in flocks of cawing panic.

The armor was now hanging off the cadaver, the whole of the spirit flickering and darkening like an old, forgotten movie at the end of its reel. Touketsu's hands suddenly came together when the flaking, blackened skull collapsed under the pressure. Body and armor disintegrated into tiny, glittering particles of muted silver light before disappearing like embers into the dark.

The purple aura around Touketsu abruptly extinguished, and his body faded back to white as he lowered his arms to his sides. The Inimicus behind him, petrified in abject terror after witnessing another soul erased from existence, stiffened when he turned to face them. The violet glow of madness was still pulsing in his eyes.

"You'll be seeing more of me after the tournaments, as will the other Inimicus on this planet," he said, his voice void of emotion. "Spread the word that you all best show due respect to your better. Otherwise…your souls will meet the same fates." He turned and took to the skies.

In defeat he sank to his knees. "Bulma, I'm sorry," he rasped, still desperately searching her dead eyes for life. He continued to spill out his heart as only a dying man would. "I didn't realize what I had. I never meant to unleash this on you. You don't deserve any of this. Neither of you deserve this." He swallowed. "I don't want you with me," he said heatedly, tears welling in his eyes. "I don't want my family in Hell with me."

Touketsu awoke with a start. He dropped his head to the cave floor and looked to the entrance; dawn was breaking. Armor clanking, he sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck with a yawn. The spirit energy he consumed last night was enough to replenish his strength and at last eliminate the prevailing ache that had been lingering in his chest. He frowned. Was that all that happened? He felt as though he'd gone on a bender, a sense that some pieces were missing. Rubbing his face, he raked through his memories. He sought out a group of Inimicus, got in some one-sided sparring, then he took that brazen drunk's energy and…

His hand lowered from his face, an unfamiliar sense of unease overtaking him. He'd cannibalized him. He'd eaten…a soul. He'd shattered souls into nothing with Svaroken, but he'd never consumed one. Did…didn't he blast one of those guys when he tried interfering? Hadn't he completely disappeared?

Several concerns began to wheedle their way into his mind. He'd lost control. How could he lose control while in that detached state? It was unsettling enough that he could barely recall what happened. Then there were the repercussions. He was not ever one to follow rules, but throughout his life he nonetheless deferred to the few stronger than himself. Right now, that someone was Marenna. Her word was law here. Until he could match her in power, he was at her mercy. What kind of penalty could he be facing for essentially eating an Inimicus and destroying another? A crime against Inimicus was a crime against the Familia, for it was very clear that they were bound to one another.

He scowled angrily. "I don't give two shits about any of these 'Familia' and their little hangups, nor the low-life clowns they obsess over." Remmnya and her infant son barely surfaced in his mind. He abruptly got up, shifting his focus before the alien woman and child changed into someone else, and he blasted across the churning ocean to train.

Standing along the periphery of the arena with the other Inimicus, Touketsu waited through the recitation of the Tournament rules as they did every night. Marenna moved on to special announcements.

"Good people of Nav," she announced, "It is apparent that two Inimicus, Donamast and Taca, have failed to attend the Tournament this evening."

Touketsu felt the sweat break out beneath his armor. If he was found out he'd put up a fight the likes of which they'd never seen. He'd been training, and his energy had recently been restored. Whatever happened, he'd go down swinging.

"As a consequence their souls have been banished from Nav to a lower purgatory. After cleansing by fire they'll eventually return through the Fire of Life where they will continue to serve their time in Nav. My apologies to their Familia for this breech of Nav law. May you emerge victorious and find peace!"

Touketsu blinked with some surprise as the stands erupted around him with the Volkfangr motto. That was it? Marenna had told him that nonattendance resulted in a soul being instantly sent to a lower purgatory, but he assumed that she'd be the one to do it. Apparently, it was an automatic processes on this planet. He suppressed a smirk. She had no clue, did she? He could scarcely believe how easily he'd gotten away with that. The Nav queen had again proven far from omniscient. He looked up and caught the eyes of the little group he'd assaulted. He held their gaze in warning and was rewarded with expressions of abject fear.

He was in the clear.

He wouldn't lose control again, but he'd continue to put the fear of the gods into the low life Inimicus of Nav. He'd take their energy when needed, whether it was in the arena or outside of it, and they would keep their mouths shut.

Weeks went by, and Touketsu's dreams continued to plague him. Sometimes he was standing in his bedroom arguing not with Bulma but with Queen Zarkala. Sometimes the two brothers were children again, and other times they were Bulma and Trunks. Sometimes Trunks was the teen version from the future, and sometimes Bulma appeared as a little girl, standing next to Trunks in blood-red sands. The dreams followed him into the waking world to affect his mental state. He couldn't control his thoughts while he slept, but he could control them when he was awake. So, he'd plunge himself into training and leave them behind.

Training required energy, and Touketsu's continued use of Kuroshimo to replenish it was akin to a thirsty man drinking seawater. The cumulative effect of the technique was slowly inhibiting his body from circulating the Life Force, paradoxically restoring his energy for the interim but reducing his resiliency in the long run. He practiced his ki rehabilitation just enough to maintain his health, but he'd since abandoned the lofty pursuit of ever making his true ki as great as the dark. He instead focused on attaining the more realistic goal of mastering his demon form.

Hunt, train, Tournament. Hunt, train, sleep. There were no breakthroughs in Touketsu's training. It was mere maintenance, and the Tournaments were just a part of his joyless routine. He never thought fighting could become drudgery. He'd taken greater pleasure in dispatching his quarry while he still served Frieza, but he had high hopes for himself then. All those missions were challenges, training that would prepare him for the ultimate confrontation.

He'd been working towards something then. He'd been working towards vengeance, freedom, uncontested power and authority. He was the Prince of the Saiyans, and it was ultimately his destiny to rule. Young fool. It never happened. He died. He became a demon, quite possibly thousands of years old now. He swore he could feel that age now. He trudged onward like a used up old work horse tethered to its mill, moving and toiling in its pointless circle. He was tired, his soul a void. He belonged in this world of the dead. He felt dead.

That, he realized, was the key.

He'd been unsure just how Zhernobog obtained power through him. Initially, he'd thought that any use of the dark ki strengthened his old master. Perhaps destroying beings with the energy was what produced the power Zhernobog fed upon. Maybe it was a combination of both the dark ki's use and his mental state, as everything that had been pieced together up to that point suggested.

With continued and consistent meditation and careful observation of his mental state during his training, he'd reached a conclusion: His mental state alone was the singular source of Zhernobog's power. It was how the dark god had been able to connect with him in the first place. His demonic body and aura were simply the result of Zhernobog's manipulations. He and Zhernobog were joined. If his mind was in a negative mental state, regardless of what energy he was channeling, Zhernobog capitalized.

If his parasitic overlord fed upon negative energy, such as the kind his mind and actions produced when he was embroiled in rage, then it stood to reason that the absence of such emotions would starve him. His experiences in the arena substantiated the hypothesis; the aura of his emotional berserker transformation fueled his opponents' rage, which in turn lent them power. Ironically, the most extreme end of the dark transformation appeared to be the answer. The darkest, blackest expression of the dark ki, with its cold energy and void-like nature, starved emotion and kept him detached. There was no negative emotional state to produce the energy that Zhernobog fed upon. There was no emotion at all.

Touketsu nonetheless lost control when he drained Donomast. If he was still vulnerable to his emotions even while in that detached state, he needed to take the transformation further. He had an epiphany: He'd accomplished such a feat when he eavesdropped on Zarkala and her boys. Camouflaged in darkness, the dark light of his power completely absent, he hadn't even been breathing. He realized that when he'd listened in on them he felt nothing at all, not until he released his brief hold on the transformation.

He would hone it.

Touketsu crushed his mouth to hers, ignoring her muffled sounds of protest as he surrendered to his desire. His fangs cut her lips and tongue, the taste of her blood stoking his animal lust while paradoxically filling him with self hatred.

"I don't care," he murmured heatedly against her lips. He scowled at the rising pain in his heart before growling angrily to himself. "I don't care!" He continued to drink her in until the warring feelings finally overwhelmed him, and he at last wrenched himself away. Breathing heavily, Bulma fixed him with a tear-filled, fiery glare that sparked with indignation, disgust, and fear. Her accusing eyes were like a blade through his heart. He felt his own eyes begin to burn and the woman in front of him blurred. With a livid snarl he pushed her away to fall into the snow.

Bulma shrieked when he threw himself on her. "I've always prided myself on the pain I could endure," he breathed over the skin of her throat as he grazed it with razor sharp kisses. "Pain is a small price to pay for power, and what doesn't kill a Saiyan makes him stronger. That is especially true of the almighty Saiyan Prince." He lifted his head to look at her, both their eyes now streaming with tears. "You've shown me that I have much training ahead, Bulma. I will become stronger. I'll conquer my pain. I'll conquer…YOU."

Claws tore away clothing as he hungrily assaulted her. The woman screamed and kicked and cried as he groped and kissed, claws and razor teeth slashing through skin. He trailed a desperate tongue over her naked flesh, moaning in approval as he lapped up her blood. He urgently flipped her over into the snow, and his eyes flared into the blank red of the Oozaru, a purple aura roiling around him. With every thrust he became more hulking, his black hair becoming more flared, wild, and spiking. A ridge of black fur sprouted from the base of his flailing tail to travel down its entire length, his claws and fangs growing even longer. The flesh over his pectorals split into the diagonal markings of his more primitive form, the stone in his chest pulsing with purple light.

Still. Still she was feeding his hunger, his hatred, his pain, bottomless and insatiable like a black hole. He couldn't conquer this. He was becoming addicted. He needed more. He needed her to be a part of him. He needed ALL of her…

Pearl-white bones still glistened with gore in the bloody snow. Sunken and scattered a short distance away, the Dragon Balls lay completely forgotten. A hulking, demonic Touketsu sat amidst the bones as he gnawed on a humerus, his back to the now full moon and his shadow stretched out before him. Growling and grunting, his blank, red eyes were half lidded in contentment. The shadow began slowly rotating behind the meat-drunk and oblivious creature, the dark mass rising behind him. Placing shadowy hands over the animal's shoulders, it curled around him in an affectionate embrace. The beast let Zhernobog's contact be.

"Good boy."

A guttural cry of horror tore from Touketsu's throat as he sat bolt upright, the thunder cracking as the storm outside raged. Eyes wild, he sat trembling a moment before his hands came up to cradle his head, his eyes squeezing shut as he unleashed another anguished scream. He leaned forward, his knees drawing up as he struggled to get his breathing under control. He'd dreamt of when he chased Bulma down in the mountains and stole the Dragon Balls before demanding she tell him how to use them. Then…

"No," he shuddered. His tapered tail curled around him, thumping spastically over the cave floor. He'd given in to his carnal desires for her. He'd plunged down the path, his hungry mouth on hers, when the pain and betrayal in her eyes stopped him from going beyond the rapacious kiss. His dream self, however, did not stop. He drank in the pain until he consumed her entirely. Touketsu drew in a ragged breath, his mind raw and reeling from the disturbing nightmare. "It wasn't real. That didn't happen. They're alright. I…Woman…I didn't know who I was. If I had, I wouldn't have… but…I wouldn't…I would not ever…"

"I can tell you feel very strongly about your little family. You obviously care for your boy very much."

His brows furrowed.

"You wouldn't risk your boy's life over this, would you?"

"Dad, please stop! What's wrong with you!?" Trunks shouted even as he parried and countered Touketsu's relentless attacks.

"You're holding back, boy," he sneered. He landed a right hook on Trunk's jaw and the boy went tumbling.

He casually broke her neck.

"MAMA!" they screamed hysterically, tears streaming from their blue eyes.

Her eyes rolled back and slid closed as she slumped forward.

"NO!" Touketsu-Vegeta cried.

Tense and motionless, he sat. He began to release his breath, the soft sound quickly hardening into a ragged growl. Intrusive thoughts continued to emerge from the realm of dreams and memories, trailing after him like a pack of dogs on the scent of blood. His body darkened as he began to shake, his nails digging into his scalp. The dark ki strobed through his markings, the stone in his bare chest lighting up as his purple and blue aura spilled from his body. He grit his teeth as it bled to red. Don't lose it. Keep it together. Detach. Detach! His body darkened to black, his aura cooling to blue. His face relaxed, and he let out a breath as the light running through his markings began to slow and deepen to cobalt. Dimming, the light guttered out. His aura was instantly smothered. Not breathing, he sat quietly, black as night.

Marenna sat alone in her throne room, her darkened surroundings glowing with the ambient aqua light of the torches that illuminated it. The rains coming down at a slant, they pelted the stained glass skylight behind her. After a while she rose from her diamond throne and descended the dais. Across the floor of hematite she walked until she reached the mirrored walls of pale stone. She placed her hand upon it, and an image materialized. It was the memory of the walls: As though he was just on the other side, Touketsu was bracing his hands up against the wall of his icy prison, his head dropped in defeat.

"I'm sorry, woman. 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."

The image disappeared. Marenna's hand was still upon the wall, right over where Touketsu's had been. She lowered her head. A single tear escaped from her eye before freezing on her cheek. Then another, and another. They thawed, flowing freely now to drop on the dark, mirrored floor. Her face cracked, and lightning flashed with a loud thunder crack. She drew in a ragged sob.

One dreary, rainy afternoon saw Touketsu sitting on the ledge outside of his cave. Hs breath visible in the chill, moist air, the rain pelted his hair and trickled beneath his armor. He paid it no mind as he stared out at the dark, churning waters of Nav's great sea. His heart was dull.

Time to meditate.

He drew up his legs in a lotus position and placed his hands on his knees, his tail curling around him as his eyes slid closed. One second went by after another, each one not permitted to fully manifest, their lives truncated by the appearance of the next moment. And the next. And the next. Through the void of feeling, a strange, distant awareness rose up: It was a desire to feel something, in spite of yearning for nothing.

Almost on cue the deep emptiness punched through a little deeper, a dull ache blooming within him. Focus. His body began to darken. The light strummed through his body, instantaneously turning icy as his body became jet black, then flat black. The now cobalt light racing through the markings dimming, they soon went dark. He stopped breathing. His armor-clad body flat as a shadow, Touketsu sat, meditating.

Half of one Earth year later. Touketsu had mastered the Void Transformation. Black and empty as space, the form took nothing, and it gave nothing. Zhernobog would be conquered, and he'd be ready when Nappa and Raditz returned.

"Are you going to help him?" The Inimcus huddled together on the fringes, petrified in terror. His lips spread into a wide grin, and a throaty chuckle escaped as he turned back to his victim. "Feel free to jump in anytime, my little friends."

For those not familiar with the original Funimation English dub, Touketsu Vegeta's words are quoted from Frieza. This was the moment when Frieza was beating Vegeta to death on Namek and he mockingly encouraged Piccolo, Gohan, and Krillin to jump in and help.