The Horse with No Name
Warning: Graphic violence
Like, the whole chapter comes with this warning. The entire thing is mean and nasty.
Massive thanks to Kags for beta-ing, especially today as this one wasn't the easiest to comb through. She has been such a huge support on this fic - it'd be drowning without her!
Also, thanks for the reviews on the last chapter. What a reception! I'm so very pleased over the reaction; the shock fuels me so, and every review was amazing and goes completely appreciated. Thank you! I usually reply but I'm honestly mad busy with RL so I'm just throwing this out and running. I'm sorry - I'll get back to you guys at some point. But I'll make you a deal. Hit me up to 250 reviews and I'll post Chapter 30 (Intermission II) this week.
Okay everyone, deep breath.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
By the Sword
The crescent moon shines bright, soft yellow against brazen blue, dismantling the unknowns of the estate's sprawling grounds and casting down a spotlight upon those daring the sharpness of the night. It's not as cold as Earth. There is no snow, just a simple chill that expels the puffs of breath one can see whenever it is dry enough, bitter enough. The small billows of breath are rapid. Gohan barely registers the clouds of heat carrying into the sky. He stands, silent, still.
The sword never wobbles.
Neither does the Zealite. He simply awaits Gohan's reaction, head now lowered as his master above summarizes what just happened as quickly as he is able to process it. After all this time, all this bullshit had been his doing; the Zealites were Mori's – Gohan's now. The stolen relics, the trespassing, the murders, the stolen moments of spying; all by Mori's command, he's sure of it. Why hadn't he ever considered it? Why hadn't Gohan ever thought that Mori – the cold unfeeling bastard – might have been involved?
God, he's stupid.
What a stupid oversight.
He'd thought that because Mori wouldn't want Famis dead then that meant he'd have nothing to do with the Zealites, but only recently did he find out that the Zealites truly had nothing to do with his brother's murder; the kais had been behind it. The Zealites are innocent in that regard. As the kais had pulled the wool over Quell's eyes by blaming the Zealites, they'd gotten one over on Gohan too.
By the Almighty…
Gohan scrapes his hair back, incredulous.
"…Hah, ha-ha…"
He surprises even himself when he starts laughing, breathy, disbelieving – annoyed, somewhere deep down that he hadn't seen this coming. His hand pulls down and over his mouth as to suffocate the giggles and stop the astonishment from escaping.
"Fuck," he curses, wheezy. "Fuck."
The Zealite doesn't look up, forever passive under the blade, like he'd come tonight with the expectation of Gohan's reaction; stiff, poised and still offering the very thing Gohan has tried to deny himself desperately wanting since hearing of its repair.
The sword winks, glowing in wait, and Gohan finds himself drawn to it. His dark amusement withers as he reaches down.
Truly, it's the Z Sword…
The steel is cool. Taking her hilt feels like connecting with an old friend, or better yet, an extension of his own arm. Heavy, not with weight, but with power returned, Gohan tests the weapon, slicing at the air around with measured restraint as not to get carried away as she glides with grace. She dances beautifully and handles like no other, leaping between hands when Gohan feels adventurous in his assessment; when he strikes the blade into the ground, he tries not to look too pleased about the reunion. How hadn't Gohan felt this connection back when he'd trained with it for Buu?
This is his sword.
The Zealite stands and reality starts to settle in. "I trust the sword is to your liking, my lord."
Gohan nods, his mouth drying as he contemplates his words. "How did you know I was going to be here? Do you have eyes on Earth?"
"Yes, several."
"Take off your mask."
The Zealite does without question, revealing, beyond the smoke, a man reaching just past the peak of his years. He's not exactly human-looking, reminding Gohan of a people he'd once come across in the West Quadrant; like them, the Zealite is olive-skinned and broad, with cropped silver hair and eyes to match. Pointed ears protrude from under the hairline and beneath, there are bone-like studs which curl from there to around the front of his forehead. They look natural as opposed to body-modification, which conflicts with the nature of the tattoos that claw up from under his cloak and around the neck. He looks like a bit of an Earth punk to Gohan, a surprise if only because the man's expression runs contrastingly serious.
"What's your name?"
"Byleath."
Gohan drums his fingers along his arm. "And what? You are the Zealite in charge?"
Byleath smiles, barely. "I understand your apprehension. The distrust is reasonable considering your circumstances and identity as a mortal reborn but hear me when I tell you that I am your ally, sir. You entrusted integral information to me long before your departure to Earth; about the reincarnation, and your alliances and who I should turn to in your absence."
The god's eyes thin.
"Your memory loss, whilst delaying, did not inhibit the plan so you need not worry, my lord. Everything is progressing as planned."
"If you're so aware of my memory loss then you'll have to forgive my confusion about said plan."
Byleath appears momentarily puzzled. "But, you are aware of… I had been told that you had regained such knowledge about the Revelation; our aim—"
Gohan's eyes close. "The eradication of ki."
"Yes. Then you do know."
In Gohan's mind, it's coming together – piece by piece – like a disturbing jigsaw, and he's finding that he does not like the final picture. He considers how only moments ago things had been much simpler; the rage had been enough to guide him, yet now he's lumbered with this unexpected responsibility due once again to Mori's puppet-mastery.
This does explain many a thing however; like how the Zealites have never had an issue traversing the Realm of the Almighty, their wealth of knowledge considering godly matters, why their base has been Earth. Gohan – Mori, even – has connections to all. The Zealites have never encountered a run-in with Quell and that is most definitely to do with Mori's understanding of how his brother operates. Quell is a dangerous person. He is intelligent and conniving. Surely, he would have been able to find them had Mori not tipped them off. Yes, the Zealites have connections. This has been obvious to all, but never had Gohan understood how deeply woven they had been to him.
Destroying relics had been their aim. Why hadn't he thought more about it? Gohan has always aligned with the beliefs of his predecessors; he's always agreed the surviving relics should be gotten rid of. This is the stepping stone to finally eliminating ki once and for all.
It… it makes sense.
How foolish he feels. How short-sighted. Nevertheless, decisions need to be made. Should he accept the Zealites? Does he continue on to Earth? What about his family? Rixas, the bastard, had looked ready to boil. Quell is always—
He pinches his brows.
Think. Not every action deserves a reaction.
Gohan takes his sword, manoeuvres it high and into a spin so his ki can latch on; the energy pulls the blade from the plane and sizzles it up into darkness, into non-existence itself to be stored in waiting - somewhere only Gohan can pull it from. From this void of nothing, Gohan will be able to call forth the Z Sword much like he does other weapons, just as Quell taught him many moons ago.
He'll manifest her when the time is right.
"I have news for you, also," Byleath next informs as though it's another day at the office.
Already, is this man reporting to him? Gohan would laugh again if it wasn't all so serious. He spares Byleath his attention, gaze low, trying not to give much away while also feeling a rage of discomfort stir.
What now?
"Perhaps you are not aware but a relic sits on Earth in wait for the Zealites to make a move against it. Along with the Earth forces, both of your brothers have been stationed there and have been asked to destroy us on contact. By the kai council's request, Lord Quell and Lord Rixas are currently waiting in ambush."
So that's why Quell is on Earth…
Gohan folds his arms. "And you just happened to stumble across this information? Who—" He scoffs. "Don't bother answering. I already know."
"We are at a crossroads here. In my opinion, the Orb of Permanence is not a relic we should let persist. However, I want to make you aware that this rouse is merely just that. The kais planted the orb there as a distraction in order for something far more important to happen without Zealite intervention."
"The kais placed it; a relic? Are you sure?"
"Yes, because, my lord, they are moving their super dragon balls into an improved place of concealment. Due to the recent strategy, our activity is making them nervous enough to bring forth the dragon balls out of hiding to force their hand into relocating them into a more secure position. If we want to take the super dragon balls then we must act fast before the opportunity passes us. The balls are currently on Geo, unconcealed at this very moment, at the meeting of the kai council."
Gohan reaches up, brushing his hair back, twirling his earing, contemplative.
"They have three dragon ba—"
"I know this much," Gohan interrupts, "The Gods of Revelation share one, Haed another, the kais hold three, Beerus has one and the final is undisclosed. Let's say we take these three then how about the others? Do you expect to wrench the ball from Beerus' paws? And what, you wish to destroy them – by what means? How would you destroy the super dragon balls? They are the most powerful relics of all. Their power alone—"
And then Gohan realises. They would not be destroyed at all.
After all this time, Gohan had wondered how he would extinguish ki; how it would ever be possible, how even Mori would aspire to do it. But now, the answer is staring him in the face.
The Zealites are en route to making this very possible because, in reality, they had been Mori's men all along. This is Mori's will.
This is Gohan's will.
They will use the super dragon balls to make the wish. Only these dragon balls will be strong enough to strip the universe of its manna.
"What do you want to do now, my lord?" Byleath asks, "Earth or Geo? Where should we leave to?"
Where indeed?
Should… should he take control of the Zealites? But Earth also awaits him; his family too, both sets of them… Gohan's personal plan had been to go to Geo once he'd finished up on Earth. He'd wanted Eyrelle to take him. To even enter a kai meeting, you must be kai yourself or at least be sponsored by one, and Gohan doubts the Supreme Kai would volunteer that for him considering what Gohan would do once there.
If Byleath can guarantee entry by methods Gohan suspects of him then it should be a non-problem, making this opportunity all the more tempting. Still…
Gohan remembers Goten's face, those eyes. He remembers the fear. By the sake of the Almighty, Gohan had just died in front of his baby brother, making his him bear witness to something awful, something that will never leave him. And after all that, Gohan is considering not repairing that. If he chooses Geo then he will forfeit ever repairing that instant tear between them; Goten will remain scarred and his father, broken.
Fuck. What a piece of shit Gohan is.
Goten… Dad…
What must be happening on Earth right now? Rixas better not be hurting them. If that idiot does something then Gohan really will kill him! He'll… he'll –!
"My lord…" It's a new voice, soft, confused.
Gohan turns to see Roarg. The cool tones envelop her as she watches from the shade, black casting over her like a weighted shadow. Her armour glistens, the sword at her side is sheathed but apparent and threatening under the right circumstances; she stands, looking between Gohan and the Zealite. The pieces in her head are obviously not fitting together as she tries to dissect exactly what she's witnessing. Wind carries her braid but little else; she's still. There's defensiveness in her form, muscles tightened, knees bent, eyes fixated in case she's needed to step in; she is very clearly battle-ready.
Battle-ready…
Yes.
Gohan approaches her and snatches her hands up. It's amazing to see her. Truly, he's happy. Had it been any other situation then he would take her up and dance her around until she complains or takes out his feet. But, for now, he needs her in her role as a captain.
"Do you trust me, Roarg?"
She looks between him and the Zealite, brows knitting.
"Roarg?"
"I… my loyalty is to Lord Rix—"
"I know," he says, as her loyalty should be. She his brother's – the idiot's – but Gohan needs her. "This is a favour. It's a really big favour. Do not see it as an order."
But she's frazzled, tugging at her hands. "Is he a Zealite, my lord?"
Gohan won't let go. "Trust me."
She stares at him, looking for something, her face wrought with disquiet as the cogs in her brain work and work. The shock of seeing him had been one thing but alongside their enemy is another; Gohan understands her apprehension. He'd feel the same, too.
"I need you to go to Earth, Roarg, in my stead. I need you to stop Rixas from doing anything stupid. You know him well; as sharp as a marshmallow and as quick as a brick. He's angry. Both he and Quell are not able to differentiate their anger from their motivations."
"And you can?" It's a slip. She knows it but Gohan doesn't care.
He even laughs. Yes, that'll ease her. "Go to Earth. Make sure he doesn't kill the earthlings. I don't want any of them dead. Take the healing salve. Guard them. Protect them. Please."
"Lord Mori, are the Zealites… Are they…?"
He kisses her knuckles. "Trust me. Trust me like I'm trusting you. You know how much I care for the earthlings. They're in your hands."
It's enough. There's a defeated nod, a swallow against the dryness. Gohan has her.
"Right."
"Thank you. Go to Earth. Remind my brothers that I want no-one harmed. Tell them I have news for them, also. Should they return back without issue then I will talk with them. You mustn't reveal what you've seen here."
"…I will try my best, sir."
He smiles. "I believe in you."
With one last glance over at Byleath, she uneasily moves away and towards the direction of Earth; the path he should be taking, the path he would be taking if he had listened to the raging fire inside his chest instead of following Mori's fucking ambition.
She disappears into the night and Gohan's fate is sealed. He's doing this. He's really doing this now. Earth will have to wait.
I can't believe I've fallen to Mori's schemes, after all.
Yet, Gohan doesn't find himself as perturbed as he ought to be. No, he otherwise considers it a strange sort of fate; a circle he was always fated to walk. Even if Mori had wanted to do achieve his goals for nefarious reasons, Gohan doesn't. This is for the good of all. Gohan shall bring them salvation – the Revelation – even if he has to get his hands dirty.
Byleath brings up his face coverings, approaching as Gohan stares after the trail Roarg just took.
"How many fighters do we have?"
"Eighty-five."
Gohan snorts. The kais are panicking over an army of less than one hundred.
"My lord?"
"You will come with me to Geo," he instructs, "But send a flank of fighters to Earth to keep everyone there busy should it come to it; on guard but not aggressive. They shouldn't reveal their position unless they need to. I don't want Quell or the others aware that we know of the ploy, not yet."
"How about I go to Earth, my lord?" Byleath then suggests, surprising him. "My ability is to multiply my form. I do not lose any power and my copies are as powerful as I am; with confidence, I can say that I pose enough a threat by myself; we do not need to lose any fighters on Earth to your brother, no more than we already have in recent times."
Gohan's brows rise. Oh, so Byleath has a brain and a will of his own. Good.
He nods. "Then I want at least ten with me. Breaking into the meeting without a kai's assistance will be challenge enough without guards nipping at my heels."
"There have been kai guards posted at the entrance of the meeting chamber."
He snorts, folding his arms. "Then I shall ask one very nicely. Should my instinct prove correct then I needn't worry. Leave it to me. I will get word to you when I have had my say at the meeting."
"Yes, sir, then I will monitor the Earth situation."
"Good."
With that, Byleath leaps into the night to relay the message.
Gohan, meanwhile, waves a hand over his face, enjoying the full extension of his unlimited powers as his mask, through a mist of ominous gloom, returns as his veil. Two brazen eyes stare out from behind, thinned and heavy with duty.
Tonight will not be easy.
As he takes a final look at his home, and at Myra, who stands in watch at the foot of the estate, Gohan understands that everything really is going to change from here on out.
Gohan… Gohan!
The hand speared through his son's body pulls free, soaked with thick, sopping red. It drips like summer rain. Hot against cold. Red against all else; the elbow is marred in blood – crimson tinting the leather – and ghoulishly bright against the virgin snow. There's a thump when Gohan's body drops into the pillow of ice, his eyes open and unseeing. Fresh flecks of snow catch his eyelashes and yet he doesn't move, not even when white congeals there. He'll never move.
Goku can't breathe.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The assailant shakes his arm dry and a splatter of warmth splashes Goku. He tastes his own son's blood.
Goten's shouting something. He's screaming; crying.
But Goku can only hear white noise; the crackle infinite and consuming as a void seems to open up beneath him and swallow him whole. The tepid blood on Goku's face suddenly scalds him. It burns. His hand shakily moves itself to smear it away, but really, he would prefer to scour until only dull bone remains. Something dies within him. Nothing hurts. It's just hollow grief as white emptiness stills time, taking him from this place in a dissociative turn, spinning and nauseating until there's a snap. And all at once, Goku wants to be sick and wants to shout and holler and wants to rip that bastard's throat from his body.
I'll…!
A scream tears from his throat and Goku is sweltering with Super Saiyan God energy before his feet even take off the ground. Shockwaves splinter mountains. Snow avalanches in droves, cascading – now free – as rupturing energy charges in a punishing burst; creating powdery bombs of exploding cloud all around. Through this smog of ivory, white energy blisters yellow and then red.
His fist connects with the man's mask. Chills run up and along Goku's arm, testing his strength. The battle of resilience rifts time. Neither move.
Then, there's a pop and with lightning speed, the man shoots backwards through the storm, shrouded by its mystery but most definitely still manically jetting back. Groaning, hungry mountains swallow him, passing him through from one to another to another as shell-shocked rockery spews forth. There's a final altercation somewhere beyond the stream of snow; an ear-wrenching explosion follows.
And so does Goku. He chases, dyeing ashen snowfall red with the glow of his divine energy. His hand is numb but otherwise fine, clenching around the budding ki enveloping there. This energy floods him. It feeds his anger and pain and Goku leans into the embrace of its deprived fury like a starved child.
He throws the energy and another, and another. Like meteorites they course downwards, sharp and rapid and so quick in succession that the attacks appear more like a wave as opposed to single spheres.
White strikes white, birthing molten orange and smoky black. Flames burst. Ki vomits. Still, the storm thrashes on and as fast it appears, it's gone. The sheet is pulled over.
But Goku isn't done. He flies against the wind, down; he wants to see the bastard – he wants to see the man who murdered his son. He wants to see him suffer.
The man has other ideas; before Goku reaches him, he reaches Goku. The cape is gone, likely lost to the fire and ice, and so Goku is better able to size him up. He's bigger than Goku but not huge; with long, reaching limbs and muscles strong enough to hold them together. Like Vegeta, the snow doesn't seem to bother him, as he's garbed in a flexible, sleeveless jumpsuit, one that allows for manoeuvrability; enough so that he's able to twist himself around so impossibly fast that Goku doesn't know where to look. As a result, a heavy boot collides with Goku's bottom right rib, forcing him to buckle, double-over and descend straight into the awaiting fist.
There's a choke, a gag and a splutter.
Goku manages to retaliate by charging another ki blast. He churns it into the man's sternum, cooking the flesh there. The stench of burnt meat doesn't slow him one bit. Immediately, he brings a hand down against the back of Goku's neck, striking hard and sending him earth-bound fast.
It hurts yet Goku refuses this fate. He determines a different path, spreading wide and catching resistance against the wind as to slow his fall. His clothes benefit in him this way. Their bulkiness and the storm's counter wind works in his favour and he's able to stop.
Still, the man is upon him. While Goku manages to hold on, his opponent barrels downwards with boot outstretched in aim of continuing Goku on his journey to the rockery. The snow helps once more when a fresh gust batters them, Goku leans left, only narrowly avoiding the strike - managing to catch the man by his ankle. With borrowed might, he counter weights himself against the man, rotating until he has enough power to launch him. He stirs him, around and around, 360 degrees, until he sees his chance and launches the bastard diagonally into the sharp peak of a mountaintop.
Goku pants. There's little time for rest however as the man recovers far faster than Goku ever could. He bounces back, using the mountain as a springboard and dislodging the boulders beneath as he does so. More rocks, snow and slush fall, creating a tailwind which pushes him back up even faster. He engages Goku instantly upon meeting him.
Goku dodges punch after punch, but just barely. This guy is dynamic in how he fights; his technique shockingly tight. Each strike has been aimed with calculated precision that if Goku isn't fast enough then his skull will surely be caved in. It's only down to his new transformation that he's even able to contend, and whilst he still scorches with furious grief, it can only carry him so far in battle, especially when he's up against such practiced skill.
He finally takes a nasty punch to the face. Several teeth near the back crunch and Goku nearly bites through his tongue, his head chiming like a rung bell. There are two men, then three and there is the one once more; his vision vibrates, blurring but just about returning as he regains himself. That's when the man lands another hit. It's a deep, gut-churning punch. Goku inhales ice. It's as though his insides are being carved out. He buckles, caving around the arm. In a sick splash of reality, he realises that this must have been the final thing Gohan ever saw. He looks up. The mask is now cracked; a long, telling line creasing down from where Goku had managed to hit it. But it's still menacing to look at – if not even more so now.
Then, he sees them; gold eyes – eyes of a god, he recalls with horror – glower at him.
One god gives me my son and another takes him away. Just how cruel are you all? Don't you care about life? Are we really so beneath you? Why? WHY? I don't care who any of you are anymore – I'm not afraid of you, any of you! I'll make you pay for what you've done!
There's a discharge of energy. It flares fiercely, so much so that it burns and melts the blizzard and its snow, making it hotter than any summer's day. The man feels the burn, too. He pulls back. Goku swears he hears him hissing; a small victory, and so thusly sends another surge of ki. As the man recoils, Goku ascends and strikes him low in the abdomen, and whilst he doesn't double over like Goku had, a dent has been made. The man has to catch his breath.
Goku swings left and then right, missing the mark at first and then catching him on the rebound. His wrist aches from the impact but he continues flooding the man's attention with unwavering aggression. Goku will not let him breathe! He will not desist!
This fighter takes a punch a bit too well, however. He barely flinches when Goku breaks a finger when crushing the mask back into his face. It must be magic or some kind of power that keeps the mask still because it never comes off no matter how much Goku tries to knock it free.
"Take it off!" Goku demands of him; "LOOK AT ME! I want to see the man who murdered my son!"
There's an eerie, warped laugh.
"Y-You bastard!"
Goku buries his fist – one laden with ki – into the chest, digging deep into the clavicle and mincing it until the friction blisters his knuckles. Sparks of energy bounce; spitting like forgotten embers and dazzling both fighters so that neither can see much of anything. Goku leans on his senses, trying to gauge how his opponent will next move.
That's when he realizes something; this man's energy reading is strange. It's like there is something missing, as though only half is being presented. The strength and raw power screams its presence, however Goku feels little in the way of optimized ki from him. Now that Goku thinks about it – has this man even used any energy attacks?
Goku assesses this, and swipes out wide with another round of energy. It drains him swiftly due to how quickly he called upon it; its blue-white wave barely indistinguishable from the snow as it ravishes forward. The man lowers his defence in avoiding it, enough so that Goku musters enough will to flail himself onwards. He starts by kicking against steeled ribs, propelling the man away and then quickly moving to catch him, striking another time, kicking once more and then, with ensnared fists, hammering him into the sky.
"Kamehame…ha!"
It's the fastest he's ever thrown it out. At first, he worries that it won't catch the tumbling form, but it does, picking the man up and holding him in place as Goku pushes and pushes –his heart throbbing with hate – while his hands scream blue.
Time lingers. Goku learns to breathe. He splutters, angry and distraught, rare tears clogging his throat. He'll kill him. He'll KILL HIM!
Die! Die! DIE!
He screams, spittle hacking out as the light blossoms brighter, engulfing the snow, engulfing everything, raging as the smooth light grows ugly with jagged, unbalanced energy.
All else fades; there is nothing, and where there is nothing, there is vacancy.
Goku feels his energy deplete. Before the attack gives out, his body slumps inwards on itself as it wails for rest. It aches desperately. It's by the skin of his teeth that he holds onto the transformation, it containing his red colouring and remaining bright despite the hollowness within. Laboured, he sucks in the icy air, enjoying its burn and wanting more of it like he's never tasted its freshness before. His coat is a devastated, barely hanging on, acting like more of a body-warmer now. The arms have cindered free, leaving black, smoky residue at the crusty shoulders. Not even his gi has survived. He stands, bare armed, gloveless and vulnerable. Goku is now open to the elements. The shivers would have set in if not for the adrenaline.
Gohan… GohanGohanGohan…
He screams with the wind. His rage fuels one last spasm of energy before giving out; making way for the red-hot tears that streak down his cheeks.
"Gohan…"
The blue fades, the snow returns unperturbed, smoke and debris and everything in between falls to the storm's might.
In that storm, godly eyes flicker very much alive.
Credit to Goku, the man does not look as well composed as before. His jumpsuit is shredded, completely exposing the top half of his body and the collection of scars and indents that goes with it. The chest a storybook of battles – of nightmares – and of the slaughtering Goku knows he must have committed. Whilst the man is not bleeding, he's burnt and bruised and not at all fresh, smelling of smoke and ash; looking as though he'd just walked through the flames of hell itself.
Goku readies himself.
"Show me your face," he insists, "Do it."
The mask tips upwards, eyes glinting. "…Are you done with your fireworks?"
The way it was said sends shivers down Goku's spine but he won't yield.
"Show me!"
"…"
"Then tell me why? WHY? Gohan was innocent!" Goku wills himself to keep it together. His aura casts high like a flame. "He was my son and you killed him! WHY?!"
"How about we fight for real now?"
"You...!"
The man is ready this time and, honestly, Goku is just pathetic. His sloppy attack is backhanded away, and he's slapped, quite literally across the face, before being submerged into the crevice between the boulders opposite. He inhales the dust and dirt, unable to do much else when the man – the god – crashes through the ceiling of the cave, smashing the landscape into dust. Goku takes the hit about as well as he can, rolling over as stabbed strikes jet out one after another at an even greater speed than before. Lucky for him, the man's fist then digs deep into one too many spaces, birthing forward a stream of hot air from the ground below. Draughts of boiling wind strike and he recoils, enough so that Goku is able to escape his rocky prison.
The wind greets him with merciless glee, burning open wounds and pushing him back and into the monster chasing him. Goku flies against it – against the apocalyptic storm – with blindness of the eyes and the senses, his internal gyroscope disliking the inconsistency of his opponent's ki or partial lack thereof.
Goku comes to a stop in a clearing, landing, tumbling really, and turning to ready himself with conviction to face this goliath force. The man lands moments following, skidding through innocent and untouched snow and landing directly at Goku's feet. He wastes no time and proves to be a tougher adversary on the ground than in the skies; a humbling mistake Goku realizes. Bringing him down here shows the man to not be a natural flier, but instead a person best on their feet, fighting on their own terms.
The wind, while not as cold, threatens both of their balance here on the plain; with it now far harsher and unforgiving, biting at Goku's joints as he flips away in avoidance of yet another kick. The guy's legs are so long. Even when Goku thinks that he's out of reach, he's clipped and dragged forward, victim to an onslaught of punches.
The man doesn't hold back, swinging, throwing his back backwards and lunging forward, hitting Goku so hard that the Earth shakes. Goku feels the ground cave-in below his jaw, and then again on the other side; with each strike, the crevice of snow and dirt digs deeper and deeper.
The man's gloves are gone now (likely from blocking the Kamehameha) and his knuckles have torn, red from wear and tear of his attacks.
Each strike is more violent than the last. Goku can't defend. He can't breathe. The gulp of air is warm, like swallowing liquid metal that chokes him as his throat feels strangled from within. Tangy, red spit up fountains free every time a hit lands. It coats both fighters indiscriminately.
Is this how it ends for him?
Is he going to die at the hands of his son's murderer?
Gohan. Gohan.
The mask above him looks down with empty feeling. The gold wavers. It's distorted, flickering as the world around comes in and out of focus like it's at the mercy of an indecisive camera. Shadowy ambiguity frames his view. Goku feels himself fading.
Gohan…
Goku feels his hands fall flat against the snow. Super Saiyan God or not, he's nothing in front of real gods. Quell had been right. Gohan is dead and Quell is right.
I'm so sorry, Gohan. I couldn't even save you this time.
"I love you, Dad. Just so you know. I always will."
Why had it sounded so final?
I love you too, Gohan. I didn't want you to die. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't want you to die and I… I… Gohan, I don't want to die either.
"It's not about me. It's about Goten. Think about him – think about what I'm telling you. Your son doesn't think you care about him. Doesn't that bother you?"
It's always been about you.
A balloon of sticky blood pops as he gurgles. The monster – the beast – above seems to finally be finished, falling backwards. Heavy breaths can be heard.
Goku, as a result of the onslaught, feels his body slope away from the divine form. The manic hatred powering his fury never leaves, only stews, slinking away until Goku has enough might to call it back – if Goku ever has that might again. He… he feels himself slipping.
"Get up!" the man demands, kicking at Goku's boot. Goku barely notices the dull thud. "Fight me!"
I want to kill him.
"Get up!"
Goku twitches his fingers, snaking them through the dirt, pressing down and praying that it's enough.
Please give me the strength to kill him. Please.
He's manhandled when he doesn't move quickly enough. The dregs of Goku's ki is hauled up and Goku along with them, his body limply following.
"You are supposed to be strong!"
Goku coughs.
"How is this true strength?! You are supposed to be Great! You are why he left!"
Goku tries to reach him, hands shaky. A little more and maybe he can –
"FIGHT ME!"
He feels his hand being twisted backwards, pain shooting like a shockwave along the nerves. Gosh, the pain. The pain; so rarely has Goku felt anything like this. Disorientated, he isn't even aware that he's screaming until he stops, hacking and choking when his throat congests; his eyes popping when there is no more noise he can offer.
And then, it stops.
Am… Am I…de—
Straw tickles his nose.
No, wait, it's not straw but hair; a braid trailing and brushing against his face as someone looms above him. It's a girl. She's between both him and the man, hand against his chest as her other supports Goku.
"Lord Rixas," she says, calm. "Lord Rixas, please."
The beast is obviously affected by her presence. Laboured breathing stagnates.
Who…?
Goku thinks the man is looking at her, unsure of what to do. Time presses forward heavily. Nobody moves and then…
And then, he lets Goku go – just like that – allowing him to fall completely to the mercy of the girl. She catches him, pulling him low to the floor and repositioning him, doing so with enough fragility that he could have been mistaken for delicate china.
Goku screams when she puts the slime on his cuts.
"I apologize. It must sting a great deal, I understand as much."
"Argh!"
"You must bear it," she asks of him, and then in a less patience voice; "Or die."
When the man – Lord Rixas – starts shouting at her, using a language Goku has not yet heard, she stiffens, but doesn't stop applying the medicine. She replies using that same language, slowly. Her words are precise.
What is… going on?
Rixas is loud once more. His voice carries over the wind but Goku understands none of it. No longer is he fading away; instead he feels stronger, more alive. The vivacity of life is returning to him; but with that, the wrath also.
"Do not be rash," the woman snaps, pushing Goku down when he tries to struggle free. "Foolish mortal."
Is she a god, too?
"I'll… I'll—" Goku manages, hands reaching for him. He wishes there to be a neck between his fingers.
She looks up and says something to Rixas, who in turn replies, heated, but when she says something again, he has nothing to add. He turns a shoulder. Goku sees him do it. Goku watches as the bastard who killed his son tries to walk away from him!
"Stay down!"
But Goku refuses. He shirks free, standing without grace. His body is still broken and beaten; an ocean of blood encircles him in his crater yet he will never stop. He'll chase this beast to the end of his time if he has to. Goku will die if he has to. Goku will –!
"D-Dad."
His step falters.
He hasn't the energy to even crane his neck.
Goten.
And not just Goten. Goku senses an entire party with him. This time he turns, falling as he does so and back into the arms of the girl. Quell is there, along with Shin. Piccolo and Vegeta are also there but it's Trunks who is holding Goten; both very visibly shaken.
Quell is the first Goku notices if only for the out of place expression marring his features; confused, open in how his mouth droops and his eyes seem unable to decide where to look. For some reason, Goku's anger extends to him too. Goku hates. He is full of it. There's a failed flash of red as he attempts to rise to Super Saiyan God. It flickers sadly, dying a quiet death as he sinks ever lower into the dirt.
Everyone is looking at him.
Everyone knows. They must. Reactions range from pity to… Goku looks at Piccolo, desperate to see the mirror image of anguish but he sees only acceptance. Piccolo looks like he'd expected this all along.
Hadn't he once said as much, when Gohan first came back?
Gohan is dead.
Goku clenches his fists, swallowing tears.
"I will speak with Whis," Shin attempts diplomatically, "And then this misunderstanding shall be cleared. We can all—"
Quell interrupts, speaking that strange language, definitely not to any of them, but to the bastard on the other side of the crater. Rixas replies, and then there's an exchange as all of them can do nothing but only guess what they are talking about. Even Shin appears clueless. The girl, however, knows what they are saying; she clenches at Goku's shoulders when Quell becomes particularly loud.
There's silence until Rixas says a final bit. The warped nature of his voice disturbs all – Goku just wants to snuff it.
But, then… colour everyone shocked when Quell starts to laugh…
Like, really laugh.
The sound is jarring – unnatural – as it carries along the mountain scape.
Shin reaches forward. "Lord Quell…"
The god threads his fingers through his hair, grinning into the wind and looking wildly unlike the dignified lord he presents himself to be. "As he has planted, so does he harvest; such is the field of comeuppance. Never you forget that, Kai. Consider this a lesson learned for all those involved."
Just what the heck is that supposed to mean? Does this guy think that it's all fun and games? Does he find Gohan's murder FUNNY?
The girl can barely restrain him. "Calm down, you fool."
"Goku, we'll have Whis bring—"
Quell next turns on Shin. "You shall do no such thing. Playing with life and death, were you? For what cause, what right? You as a kai should know better than to fiddle but I suppose that is what you do best as is your nature as such a being."
"My lord, Gohan was just a boy—"
"You moronic boot-licker, by what means do you—"
The girl speaks, "Lord Quell, I duly apologize for interrupting but I also come with a message. Lord Mori needs to speak with you urgently, back at the estate."
"Oh, I imagine he does."
"He says that he has news."
Quell snorts. "How convenient."
"Sir, if I may, I really do believe that it's urgent. When I left, there'd been a…" She swallows, Goku feels her stiffen. "Situation."
"One heavy with dramatics and tears, I imagine."
"Sir—"
"Enough, Captain. I do not want idle conversation. Either finish your work healing the idiot or let him bleed out. We should all remember our role here today," His golden gaze flitters low and onto Goku, "Or lack thereof."
Finally, Shin retreats. He bows a head. "Yes, Lord Quell."
How dare Shin step back? Gohan had been his friend! Gohan had accepted his plea for help. Gohan is good. Gohan is –
"Gohan is dead!" Goku shouts in retaliation.
Quell merely sighs. "So troublesome. How you deal with such rude insignificant worms on a daily basis, Supreme Kai, I have no– Oh, hello."
Goku had pushed the girl captain away, driving forward with the thin reserves of energy he had. He can't even attain the divine form, settling for Super Saiyan and charging in a beam of gold, shredded fabric and blood which flies asunder. But he doesn't even reach the god. That pressure of his slams Goku back to the ground, sinking him low the moment he's out of the ditch. It's like having a house dropped on him.
"Dad!"
The weight triples and he wails. Fresh wounds reopen.
"Let this be a lesson to you, Goku Son," Quell says, light, smiling so very emptily. He stands over him, the figure looming and alive as the wind cascades from behind. "I have been very patient with you. Your arrogance has led you to believe many an untrue thing about your deplorable existence as Protector, only simply because of your connection to a sorry transformation worth nobody's time. With mortality comes simplicity so I suppose I can forgive that.
"What I cannot look past is your selfish expectation that you are above the rules. First, you survive our purging of those using Instant Transmission; a technique rich in divine history and unsuitable for a mortal to even witness, never mind use. Beerus vouched for you. Heaven knows why. Simple minds and all that, I suppose.
"But now… Now I hear that you play God. You revived your son when which you have no right. Have you no shame? The transformation was bad enough but now you truly do believe yourself to have ascended into godhood? Do you want to be one of us, Goku Son? Do you want worth?
"If you had any then you would not have let your son die in the first place. How you must ache with—"
Quell's face contorts quickly. Smug, twisted lips grow open in disbelief as Goku pushes past the wall, breaking the glass barrier and through the pressure. Goku's ferocity explodes, riding the wave of rehabilitated hatred, bringing him within fingertips reach of the god – enough to feel the flow of hair – before he's struck back down, but not by Quell.
Vegeta is above him, expression like thunder. "Stay down!"
Quell has appeared to recover from the shock. He pushes Vegeta aside and kicks Goku swiftly across the cheek. Blood sprays further. It'd be a wonder if he has any left.
"Even if you managed to rip me piece by piece as you so wish you would still have to live with the one simple fact…" he hisses, leaning low and whispering for only Goku to hear, "…Your little boy is dead. Daddy, in fact, did not come quick enough, did he?"
I… I… Go—
He pulls away, venomously smirking. "Pity, that."
Goku shakes but the renewed pressure is too much for his shattered body.
Just as Quell stands at full extension, victory still dancing in his evil, golden eyes, there is a final visitor to their group. It's not a Zealite. Goku wishes it was just to see them underhand the bastard but no, instead, it's a familiar face, one unexpected at today's gathering after all was said and done; it's the girl Champion.
Once more, Quell is taken aback. "Eyrelle," he says, "What are you—"
"My lords," she says, breathless, bowing low. She acknowledges Shin, awkward. "Supreme Kai, it's the council – they…"
"What happened, Eyrelle?"
"You must come at once."
Geo has always been a planet Gohan enjoyed visiting. Its beige and gold overlay contrasts charmingly; old meeting new, an oxymoron of the eye, something that encourages him to want to look a second time. He likes the little shops hidden in the nooks of alleyways, and he likes the buskers, and the groups of tourists, ones overloaded with backpacks even bigger than the cameras they carry. The food is great. The drink is even better. You can pretty much find any trinket, treasure or treat you put your mind to, all whilst engaging in the vast array of cultures here, ones that meld together harmoniously despite all ranging in such different belief systems. The flavour of life is bold here and Gohan has always appreciated that.
Today, he breezes past all of this. Despite it being extraordinarily late, stragglers still wander the streets with their drink and their friends, watching with excitement as Gohan walks along the cobblestoned path and through the square with determined prominence. It's a spectacle to them – all a part of the attraction – to see someone of importance make their way up the stairs and into the Grand Hall to change the course of history.
The guard allows him passage upon recognizing the mask, cameras flashing from behind.
However, despite previous acceptance of the antics to be found here, Gohan doesn't like the excitement tonight. He waves a hand, dismissing the air and signalling a desire for action; the sign required to clear the grounds and bringing a swooping of black shadows. They shimmer darkly and remove the bystanders, without harm of course.
Gohan meanwhile strides along the hallways. His boots hit the marble, tapping as he goes, the cloak swooping from behind as he walks with purpose. It's otherwise quiet tonight. Guards are limited.
Gohan notices that there are only so many pairs of eyes. It would have been curious if he hadn't already been tipped off. There are always more guards than this; standing in wait – clearly they'd been rid of just for the ease of a quieter meeting. Any guards that do rush to greet him are incapacitated before they even reach three metres of him, out cold as a diving Zealite moves forward and along to the next guard who tries to challenge their stride.
Black smoke sporadic and wild in dance within the stone hallways and Gohan emerges through it, gold lighting his way.
The main door is reached and two familiar faces stand opposite in watch. One moves to defend upon seeing the smoky Zealites ascend.
"Spare her," Gohan orders.
Both Brutil and Eyrelle turn to him but they're far too slow – Brutil is quickly dealt with; a guttural cry heard as he collapses to his knees and down to the floor with a thud. The sluggishly equipped sword clatters along with him and Gohan has to stand over it to reach the other Kai Champion; her face a perfect picture of disbelief.
"A crueller god would have killed him," he says in regard to the arrogant lump at his feet.
"Lord Mori," Eyrelle breathes.
"Eyrelle," he greets, "Did you think about what we discussed? Did you find your truths?" She looks around, distracted by the waspish wisps from overlooking Zealites. "Don't worry yourself. They are with me."
"…Sir, these individuals… You know that they are—?"
"Zealites? Yes." Gohan smiles from behind his mask, bittersweet. "I'm quite dastardly. It's a part of the reason Famis never liked me a great deal... Even he could see to what lengths I would go to achieve my goals, or in today's case, justice." His hand flourishes, "Justice for him ironically enough."
Those words have her still, her lilac skin paling that she almost matches the ghostly white of her hair. She swallows. "You need my assistance to enter the meeting chamber, don't you, Lord Mori?"
"I do. Kai protection spells even keep the strongest of us out."
"What are you going to do? What do you want—?"
"To talk, mostly."
"Mostly?"
"Mostly."
"What are you going to talk about?"
"The truth."
Several Zealites stand behind him in a sinister formation. The dark of his cloak bleeds into them as the ashen-black air settles and Eyrelle looks increasingly startled. Her hand resides on her own blade as she considers each of the soldiers, and even as she considers Gohan as though she hadn't offered her loyalty to him only a few weeks ago.
To ease her, Gohan removes his mask. Perhaps it's his boyishness that has her lower her guard, or maybe it's his faint resemblance to Famis, or just as likely, staring into the void of the mask of death is enough to turn anyone to stone and being rid of it reminds her of his humanity.
Her eyes flicker as she encapsulates what makes Gohan Gohan, or rather, what makes him Mori.
"You know what the Council did," he asserts, moving closer. "If you are a true servant of the Almighty and of Famis then would you really stand in the way of that justice today? You can make the difference. You can be a part of Revelation. You can be more than just a pawn for your Kai brethren to play with – to make a fool of, truly. Now you can fight against those who suppressed truth and those who caused strife between the kais and gods and who fanned the flames by unsettling tension and stealing life.
"Eyrelle, I won't lie to you and say that Famis would or wouldn't want your part in any of this, because I truly never understood him. But I will urge you to join me in this plight to do right by his memory, for the act of righteousness and finally to achieve closure once and for all.
"Do your loyalties to your race mean more than your loyalty to the person you loved most?"
There's an intake of breath. Her pallor changes, she burns red –
Gohan clasps her shoulder before she can move away. "Be proud of your affections even if they weigh you down. Do not be ashamed. Let me help you with that weight – I will carry the anchor in its entirety today.
"Let me through and into the meeting not only for myself or my brothers but also for you."
She stares at him, bony under his touch. For a warrior, she's slight and graceful and more akin to a ballerina than any fighter he's met. But that steel in her expression tells otherwise. Strength beyond mortality faces him down, sharp and pointed, practiced – yet, it would be far more threatening if it wasn't so humbled by vulnerability, by love lost.
"If I turn against them," she starts, low, "Then I really will have no family left. They … murdered Lord Famis. Yes, yes... You are right. I… I know it to be true, I do. I'm no fool. I feel it in not only my heart but I also understand in my mind, after digging, after speaking with another kai but…
"But they… Lord Mori, they're what I know. They are who I serve. I will truly be without—"
"Stand with me, Eyrelle." He tightens his hold and she looks at him. "I won't deceive or make a mockery of you. Return to the Almighty."
"I never… left. My loyalty has always belonged to—"
"Then prove that to me. Stand by me by standing aside right now. Open the door."
She turns to the offending door. It's large and ornamental with spiralling, intricate stonework voyaging along its frame in a kai-centric design; the prominence there to mark its territory. You are unwelcome, it would say, but that is not enough an off-put for Gohan today. Rough, chipped edges show its age and near those imperfections, he spots the tell-tale signs of a kai protection spell that would easily be dismissed by the right person. Sparks of ki wink at him as though it's a secret just between them, but it's not – Eyrelle also knows, understanding as much that Gohan asking this of her is a formality. Taking Brutil and crushing every bone until he opens that door is the unspoken second option, and if that doesn't work, Gohan isn't without his own arsenal of alternatives.
But with respect for her pride he'll let her decide.
Gohan releases her, offering a final smile before pulling the mask back up and over his face.
He moves back.
Eyrelle closes her eyes, thinking. But to what point? She has already decided her fate.
"I do not want to be seen as a traitor but… I suppose it is not about me."
Her inner battle is wrestled aside and finally, she gestures along the door – the wall on either side – and propels embers, speaking the language of her people in song, and bowing low. Fleetingly, she knocks against the rockery.
Crrrrrr…!
Gohan watches as the door cracks and creaks, crunching open as stone crumbles free.
"Thank you." As he goes to pass her, he returns a hand to her shoulder. "Do not enter. Whatever you may hear, whatever someone might say, whatever your good will wants you to do; do not enter."
There's a nod, frightened and stilted like a deer.
Zealites move past and into the short strip leading to the Grand Meeting Chamber.
"In fifteen minutes, go to Earth and send for my brothers. Tell them it's urgent."
Another nod. "Yes, my lord."
"We're in this together, Eyrelle."
She doesn't look as sure so Gohan will have to be confident enough for the both of them. There's little else to be said so he moves along into the hall, pulling the door closed behind him and ignoring the lingering regret. Eyrelle is not stupid. She knows what she's done tonight.
There is a final door, one that's modest and a third of the size of the previous one and not at all a hindrance that needs to be thwarted. The Zealites align themselves outside of it, heads bowed, cascaded in their darkness as they wait for Gohan to enter into the chamber. And so Gohan does just that.
He motions for them to stay for he doesn't want to go in as anything other than himself, not as the Zealite leader, but as an individual wronged and a seeker of justice. The door closes behind. Gohan feels an audience watching as he melds it shut, ki melting metal into the wall.
There is a scuffle of chairs scratching marble.
"Who are you?" One of the kais demands. "This is only for those of divine reign!"
"By heavens, who let you in here?"
"This is a sacred place!"
"Be gone!"
Gohan turns to them. They understand at once. Whether it's the mask or the eyes no one questions his divinity again, some mutter amongst themselves, others say nothing at all but just take in his visage as Gohan slowly approaches the large centric table.
Behind are the stairs he would take early to watch the meeting from the balcony, back when he would come with Quell. That is not the case now. Now he will take his position before them.
One, two, three… six, seven… Twelve; Gohan counts twelve kais here today. That's less than half the usual size of a meeting, so he assumes these ones here to be the more prominent figures of the council. He recognizes several faces from his previous viewings from up on the balcony, particularly that of one remarkably unmoved kai.
Zamasu…
The bastard doesn't look at all fazed. His steady gaze could be considered bored but Gohan is no fool.
And neither are you, are you, Zamasu?
"My lord," one heavily moustached kai says weakly. "Lord… Mori, am I to be correct? We have not had the pleasure—"
Gohan doesn't hear the rest of the kai's trailing for he becomes distracted. In the middle of the table sits three fist-sized dragon balls; they're the shrunken forms of the super ones Gohan has come into contact with before, all nestled here together and under the dim lighting of the surrounding candles. The orange in them glows, ominous. So Byleath had been correct after all about them wanting to hide the balls once again – not surprising in his accuracy considering the likely informant…
"I am surprised to make your acquaintance, Lord Mori, especially without Lord Quell present. Does he know of… your, erm, your attendance here tonight?"
Gohan's nose crinkles.
"I can't say he does," Gohan testily returns, gliding his fingers along the slate table, enjoying its smoothness. "But then again I can't say that I answer to him, I hope you understand. Worry not however as I do in fact represent our collective tonight, regardless of whether or not this has been endorsed by Quell."
Numerous kais share looks of discontent.
Pricks of wet nervousness glisten from atop multiple foreheads.
"My lord…?"
"I didn't want my debut in this room and at this table to bring such negativity but we reap what we sow, I suppose."
The moustached kai clears his throat. "Do you have strife?"
That's one way of putting it.
"I do."
There's a lingering silence until one kai bravely offers him a seat. Gohan refuses, smiling behind the mask despite them being unable to see it. Call it habit but being polite is second nature to him, even to those who don't currently deserve it. Yet something about his distance does unnerve the group and Gohan watches them eyeball the dragon balls multiple times, with some of the group not-so-subtly communicating between themselves both through their eyes and (best he guess) telepathy.
"It's not about the dragon balls," he tells, "Nor is it about the situation on Earth. The Zealites have nothing to do with this, well, I mean, I suppose they do now but my original intention hadn't to become involved with them, or better yet him."
Gohan turns to Zamasu. The asshole doesn't even flinch.
"Zamasu?"
"What about him?"
The moustached one understands the misstep. "What have you done, Zamasu?"
Zamasu folds one hand over the other. A thin smile is forming. The show is just beginning for him after all.
Gohan slams a hand down on the table, addressing the entire group.
"Let me cut to it, I know what you did. I know that you poisoned Famis and robbed him of his life."
Multiple pairs of eyes widen. Gohan stole them of their poker faces.
"Do not deny this. Do not dare disrespect my brother or our collective by denying truth." Gold flickers dangerously, the room vibrates with static energy. "You killed Famis. You orchestrated his death and you spun a web of your own to fixate attention on the Zealites. His mask is still missing, and I know you to have it in your collective possession, in your hoard of treasures unsuited to be claimed by the kai. Are you enjoying the power from it – the power born of a fractured collective?" Another hand hits the table. "By what right do you have to slay a god – a person – an innocent? Do you really fear us so much?"
The shock steals their voice and Gohan can only laugh, bitter.
"Do you fear Revelation so much?"
"We did not kill Lord Fami—"
Gohan doesn't waste time. He calls forth the Z Sword, her sheen bright as she wrenches from the void with hungry vibrancy. The blade propels finely when thrown, swivelling all the way through the air and continuing so it plunges into the head of the opposing kai. Together they fly backwards until the point of the sword lodges into the wall behind, pinning the corpse in a dangle.
"Nargle!" Comes the cries of several of them. Perhaps that was his name. As distressed as the kais cry it out, none move towards his body.
That makes eleven kais.
"Do not lie to me," Gohan bites out. His hand extends and the sword returns to it. "Unless you wish to taste steel. And as you know, being slayed by your own kai-enchanted blade brings upon a darker reality than just going to Otherworld."
"Kai-enchanted…"
Gohan hums and pulls the sword back, unintentionally displaying it for the kais to see, extended and all. A reaction Gohan should have expected but overlooked follows.
"It's the Z Sword!"
"You have it! Where did you – the Z Sword! You said kai-enchanted blade and I knew there to be something about it – where did you get this? It'd been stolen by the Zealites! How would you…"
The first one catches on. "…Impossible!"
Ah. Well, there is no point in denying it.
Gohan turns and swings the blade to a sheath on his hip, sliding it in. "Let me demonstrate how easy honesty can be." He scrapes a hand through his hair, addressing the group with unwavering confidence, a smile and naked identity, "I am Mori of Revelation. I am the fourth of the collective and the bringer of Death, the master of ki and also the leader of the Zealites. For some time now, the relics have been rounded up and destroyed under my order, or repurposed – like my sword here – to be brought back to where it belongs."
"It belongs with the kais!"
"YOU are the leader of the Zealites?"
"The gods are forsaking us!"
"How dare you bring the Zealites to us?! By-By what… All along, it had been the Gods of Revelation?"
The moustached one gets it. "Or are they just yours?"
Gohan folds his arms. "Leadership aside, I'm but a simple person here to enact justice for their brother. By wronging the collective you have wronged me personally."
A particularly engorged kai, one smothered in sweat, manages to stand, awkward as his belly presses against the table. "Lord Mori," he addresses, "Th-Think of what you are doing. You have killed one of our own, and more than once at that as the leader of the Zealites! How can we be expected to let this stand? Think of the pact between the kais and the gods – think about the balance you're disrupting!"
"Please," tries another, "Calm yourself, my lord, and consider the future of this alliance."
"Yes." The lone woman stands. "Turn away now and we shall pretend no such scuffle happened here tonight."
"Lord Quell needs not know."
Gohan snorts. They really think him scared of Quell? "And you will just happen to overlook my status as the Zealite leader? Wow, how benevolent of you." They cringe, lost, awkward amongst themselves, but Gohan refuses to give them the desired breathing room. "So you are no longer denying murdering my brother, Council?"
A pin drop could be heard.
"Well?"
"Let us have this discussion with Lord Quell present—"
The sword suddenly emerges and changes direction, pointing at a mountain of a kai. "You think that wise? Should he learn the truth right now then Geo would be destroyed. All kais would be eradicated. The universe would be ruined. His anger would strangle life until the last of its breath. Do you still wish me to invite him – or is it that you would never really invite him anyway and would instead try to polish him off like you did the other brother?
What about you, Zamasu, what do you think we should do? Should I invite Quell or not? How would a master puppeteer play this?"
Zamasu closes his eyes as the table rounds on him. That smirk suits him all too well.
You are not in control here.
So Gohan anguishes him from the table next. In the commotion, kais scream as Zamasu is blasted back, the air wave thwarting him and punishing him harshly into the wall beside his dead comrade and into his own crater, where he melds into the stone as Gohan repositions the sword below his throat. The steel twists and Gohan sneers from behind his mask.
So quickly the amusement drains from Zamasu. Those eyes, whilst not fearful, are unhappy. They vibrate with muffled discomfort, shaking when the cool sharpness teases his chin; how unwavering they are as they stare into the mask.
But Gohan wants him to look him in the eyes. The bastard can have the full view.
Gold meets silver when the mask is discarded.
"What you don't know," Gohan tells the onlookers, voice now without the warp of his mask, "Is that Zamasu has been working against you for years. He is the one who let slip about Famis' slaughter. Isn't that right, Zamasu?"
"How careless of me."
"Very careless. How foolish you must feel." Derisive, Gohan quirks his head back. "Did you just so happen to whisper it into the ear of one visiting saiyan in the hopes of it getting back to me? Or perhaps you fed some truths to one Zealite that allowed for tonight to happen? Eyrelle, the Supreme Kai – how many ears have your sweet words reached?"
Utterly betrayed, a kai behind brings a fist down against the table. "Zamasu!"
"He has been feeding out information for as long as you have trusted him with it."
"Does this little display make you happy, Mori? I never took you as one to enjoy theatrics."
"I want them to understand the situation."
"Such cruelty."
"Moves and countermoves," Gohan spits, ignoring him, "Kais, you do one thing and the Zealites do another; all composed beautifully by one of your own that sits amongst you whilst I currently do so little. I say that I'm the leader but the credit is due to Zamasu. Naturally, he has been playing with you, much like a child with his dolls, play-fighting meaninglessly, ambling around and doing little else until the situation grows tiresome, and until you grow vulnerable enough to be taken advantage of. What are one or two relics here or there when a bigger plan is at play?"
"Zamasu, please tell me that he is lying," the female kai implores.
"I am affording you honesty, I said as much!" Gohan clenches his fist around the hilt of his sword. "Do you not think you should offer me the same courtesy?"
"Courtesy? You tell us of your schemes, you murder our people… you killed the guarding kai at the Ostentatious Chamber of Relics. What mud you sling!"
"And you killed Famis."
"We would never—"
To live by the sword is to die by the sword but it's not for that she dies here. Gohan cuts her down for her dishonesty, bringing the Z Sword swiftly along her throat.
When she falls she remains nameless. Nobody calls for her.
Ten.
The moustached one – the one Gohan suspects as having authority – raises a hand. "Lord Mori, you are being heard. There is no need for this terrorism. If you came for discussion then let us have it. We are civilized individuals – men of divinity – we need not to succumb to cutting one another down."
"Then admit to Famis' demise."
The kai's gaze darkens. Gohan wipes the blood from his sword, watching, waiting; feasting on the silence.
After a time, Gohan scratches at the back of his neck. "I thought so."
Gohan doesn't give him time for a rebuttal. The sword flies in search of its next victim, stopping short of the moustached kai, cutting closely over the shoulder and piercing the unsuspecting fat one behind. The aim is true, slicing into the eye and poking through the other side, toppling the kai backwards and into a large pile of room-shaking blubber.
The Z Sword knows her true master. She comes back to Gohan's heel. "Nine left, including the traitor over there."
"Stop this!"
"Someone call Beerus, Whis, anyone!"
Before the kai reaches the door, Gohan strikes him down too.
The next one is stupid enough to challenge Gohan, ignoring the calls of the moustached kai, bringing together his hands into a clasp and manifesting a churning yellow ball of ki, screaming as it builds. The surrounding candle light pulls in its direction. Flickering darkens the room, but light returns and with it a unrelenting brightness that might have a less experienced warrior shy away.
The ball shoots towards him but as aforementioned, Mori, or rather Gohan, is a master of ki and needs not worry. The energy burns with a heat only produced by remarkable skill, one that Gohan hadn't expected to be seen from a kai. What a waste. He catches the energy, snuffing the yellow by enclosing a fist around the heat, squeezing until it coughs, dead.
Whilst the effect had been remarkably weak, the impact of Gohan's sword through his chest proves quite the opposite. A gush of red follows as Gohan withdraws the sword himself.
Eight… Seven…
"I feel like I ought to feel sorry for you but I don't." The sword spins dry. "You haven't sympathy for how your iron grip on the universe affects those who trust you, who pray to you, who beg for your help. Did my brother know that you were to murder him before you did just that? Did he have an inkling?"
"You are talking of prayers?" comes the moustached one, "Why would your brother pray to us?"
Gohan frowns, feeling like he got caught out on something he hadn't meant to let slip.
Prayers of the mortals you ignore…
"Is there something more to this massacre today? Your aim from the beginning is to let none of us go, I know this." The remaining few gasp but this lead kai is brazen. "You would not have revealed yourself if you had."
Smart kai.
Gohan gestures the sword forward. "I will make it fast if you admit to Famis' death. Give me this closure and face justice for what you did against the Almighty and my brothers."
The kai lowers his head, his moustache bouncing as his words leave him mumbled, considerate and slow. "Lord Famis… had been dangerous." Gohan stares at the nape on offer to him, his sword twitches greedily. "Lord Famis had created a magic so disturbingly dangerous that we truly believed the universe could have been nigh if he hadn't been…"
"Say it."
Fists clench.
"No? Tch."
The stubborn old fool – why can't they admit to this? Why is their pride more important than all else? If being a kai excuses them from accountability then Gohan sees them as disposable as they'd made Famis out to be.
"He'd been a person," Gohan ripostes, and then thinking of Eyrelle, weaker, he adds; "He'd been loved. He'd been… targeted because you saw it an opportunity. Don't blame his magic for your sins when you hadn't felt threatened by might but instead by a thwarted position, and don't excuse your own inadequacies in your role as a kai."
"Is this exacting justice, Lord Mori?"
"Yes," Gohan says, bringing the sword high, "This is Revelation."
The swing cuts clean and the kai falls to it; slashed from one shoulder to the hip, dyeing important-looking robes the colour of fresh blood. Red puddles and Gohan oversteps it to shred the next two, bringing the Z-Sword swiftly overhead and striking vertically down on one and up on the other.
Six, five, four…
The remaining three kais standing charge at once. Only one is combat practiced. He attempts to catch Gohan low but doesn't even reach touching distance before he becomes the next on Gohan's countdown. The Z Sword slides through him like butter, the hilt pressing into his abdomen as a spray of red spurts from his mouth. The life drains from his expression faster than the blood from the wound; his weight pulling down on the sword as Gohan laterally steps and jumps to avoid a sweeping kick.
This kai isn't as fast the one just slain, and so Gohan doesn't even need to shirk the corpse from his blade before plunging her into fresh purple flesh. This time, his aim is less accurate and Gohan has to strike once more, this time into a vital organ. The life, like the others, doesn't fade but instead powers off with immediate effect. Empty sockets see nothing.
Thump. Thump.
As though they are mere bugs in his way Gohan shakes the bodies from his sword. The final attacking kai seems to have realized his error and has backed up, his spine a flat line against the wall, expression of pure terror.
"Please, my lord," he begs as Gohan approaches.
"Then tell me my desired truth."
The kai nods, his bounce of white hair along with him. "You were right. Please, sir, you were right. Lord Famis had been murdered by the kais. He'd been murdered. He – he… the magic, the power – please, Lord M—YARGH!"
Gohan does show him mercy. Instead of the sword, he blitzes him with a wave of ki, stealing the kai of his life but not of his existence. No body falls, only ash. It slowly descends to the floor where no wind will ever find it and carry it away; there, it glues to the sticky pooling puddles of blood, sparkling dimly.
Three… Two…
Behind, in his very own crevice in the wall, the final kai awaits him.
One…
"You got your confession in the end," Zamasu commends, "Though I did not expect you to be someone so sentimental. Love? Prayers? How romantic, my friend."
Passing his graveyard of corpses, Gohan strides over each body with practiced grace found from his days slaughtering warlords and criminals alike. The chamber is laden with the colour of justice, marred and stained with Gohan's righteous enactments; the price paid for the wrongdoings by the Council. Vacant judgment from the sentenced stare into the candles, stare at Gohan and at Zamasu, and at the super dragon balls that they'd been so keen on protecting. Gohan passes those too.
He stops in steed of his friend.
"Your eccentricities remain intact, I see," Zamasu comments from his depression in the wall, leaning into it as though he's the king of rubble and cracked marble. "Byleath found you well, then? I had been concerned you would not come."
"Liar."
Zamasu smirks.
"Do not misunderstand me." Gohan scrapes the Z Sword along the floor, drawing a long, angry line, before bringing it home under the point of Zamasu's chin. He pushes up and Zamasu follows; amusement now a mere ghostly remnant as understanding trickles behind those silver, beady eyes. "You think this display was for them? You think I play with my dead for the sake of it?"
The blade kisses red. A pinprick becomes a stream, sliding down the steel all the way to the hilt.
"You have been toying with me, watching me. Have you had fun seeing me clamber for understanding? How easy it would have been for you to tell me the entire story but instead you use the befuddlement to manipulate the situation – what are your true gains here, friend?"
Zamasu is ice cold. "You would never have accepted your destiny had you not come to the truth yourself."
"Destiny? And you call me romantic." Gohan twists the sword until Zamasu cannot press any further back into the wall. "There is no destiny, just your warped self-indulgent meddling and manipulations. I have walked your path, smelled the flowers you planted and now I stand before you, unhappy. Your plan was not as fool-proof as intended because –" He leans in closer, "Pushing this sword through that big brain of yours would be the easiest thing I would do all day."
The blossoming fear is ecstasy to Gohan.
"What other strings are you pulling? Who are you whispering to? What gains can you take from this situation?"
Zamasu doesn't look away but he sure does pale.
"You could have left well enough alone," Gohan says, low, "I told you I wanted nothing to do with you. Instead of that, you twisted situations and operated in the shadows in wait for me to step as planned. Why couldn't you see? I don't want to play games with kais or with Quell or with you. I don't play games at all."
"I am your ally," the kai certifies. "Let me play the games for you."
Gohan would laugh if it didn't make his blood boil. "Life is not a game! Revelation is not a game! My brother's life was not a throwaway saga in a chapter of any match of wits – these politics are a cancer I want nothing to do with."
"Famis didn't play the game, too," Zamasu says, admittedly brave, "And he died for it. You may not like its existence, Mori, but don't act that you are above it because it will come for you."
"And you can protect me from that?" He jeers, "How benign of you. But why should I need you when I have Quell? And why would I want to refuse myself the satisfaction of this?"
Zamasu swallows, squeezing his eyes closed when the edge cuts deeper under his throat.
"Any last words, Zamasu?"
The desperation is a look most unsuited to him. Gohan savours it. "Mori… Please…" There's a break, a cough, "I did this for you, also."
Such weak parting words, he thinks before then extracting the sword and wielding her wide.
The sword strikes; rapid and with vigour. She penetrates the target with beautiful ease, parting the stone a breath's reach next to Zamasu's skull and cracking all along as an elaborate web. Chalky residue grinds free, flaking down and over the shaking shoulder of a ghostly-pale kai, audible when it finally hits the marble below.
Zamasu breathes, haggard.
Gohan, too, lets loose held breath. "This… could have ended differently."
The kai is unseeing, as though his life truly is flashing before him.
"Do you understand now?" Gohan slowly pulls the Z Sword out of her pit, noticing Zamasu's eyes slowly trail after the mobile steel. "You do not use me. I am not a piece to be played with."
There is a faint nod, resolution follows. Zamasu is not as quick as anticipated to collect himself.
"There is one last thing."
"…What… is it?"
Gohan returns the Z Sword to the void, the smoke following it. The instant relief on Zamasu's usually well-guarded face really does bring a smile to his face, especially so as he throws a hand out.
"I accept your offer of a partnership." His fingers flex, sodden in the blood of the kai's colleagues, in anticipation to shake, "I hope we can help one another with our endeavours going forward."
Zamasu looks at it like Gohan had just presented him with a tap-dancing frog. For the first time, the words have been lodged stuck in the kai's throat. He's speechless.
Eventually, he does take the hand and is surprised when Gohan plunges him from out of the groove in the wall. He shakes the hand, measured, as Gohan offers an equally practiced smile.
"Don't cross me, Zamasu."
"I do not plan on it."
He squeezes. "My family is not yours to play with, either. Watch yourself."
Zamasu has regained semblance of his arrogance. He breathes out, eyes mischievous, nodding nonetheless.
Gohan lets go. The message has been received. There's no doubt who is leading who here.
"You have created quite the mess, Mori. What is next?"
Gohan lowers his gaze to the piled corpses as he returns to the centric table, once again running his fingers along its smooth top. This time, a trajectory of blood follows from beneath his fingertips, smearing grey dirty. It stops upon reaching the three orange orbs awaiting Gohan. Each ball is collected.
One-Star, Two-Star and Three-Star.
With these, Gohan really is on his way to achieving Revelation. The super dragon balls bring a power about them no relic or artefact can ever match. Now that he has the kai's collection of dragon balls in his possession, only time will tell until he can get his hands on the remaining ones.
This had always been Mori's plan. Zamasu had mentioned destiny but that is nothing but a pretty word for inevitable. The gods and kais going to war is one such thing.
"Leave me," he orders, "I'll be having guests soon."
Without question, Zamasu does.
Gohan, now alone, wanders away from the table, dragon balls in hand, and climbs the stairs leading to the balcony (his balcony) behind. Each step feels like climbing a mountain, slow and torturous with every beat of his boot on cool stone.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
The view is awful; Gohan sits at the top and surveys the room from his perch. Emptiness and a bleak future – a hopeful one – wrought with sacrifice looms. For this, he's giving up himself, his humanity.
Kais litter the room.
Them.
He looks down at his hands, chest heavy.
Gold eyes wetly close.