Two pink clouds inhabit the sky above the late North Kai's single-chambered home; they remain distinct, refusing to mix. The East Kai had said that these clouds were manifestations of the life energy inside every being, and they were created as a sort of mirror to the lifeforms on the planet. Now, though, the horizon is devoid of anything except for the lonely vastness of the permanently darkened sky. The entire planet is empty of life, lacking purpose now that its owner has died. East Kai was merely a temporary replacement; the apprentice taking over the mantle of North Kai would inevitably choose a new planet, and this one would likely remain dormant forevermore.
It's a morose thought, one that doesn't leave Dróide's mind as she meditates cross-legged on the small shoreline that separates the North Kai's abode from the endless sea surrounding it. Evidently, the East Kai recognizes this, seeing as he bashes her on the head with North Kai's staff, an artifact that he's taken to carrying around during their training sessions.
"Enough thinking!" he shouts. "Time to focus on not thinking!"
The android tries to keep her composure, but her focus is completely shot, the calm bred by meditation replaced with raw anger. She rises to her feet, rubbing the wound with her hand before turning her attention toward East Kai. She strides toward him, and the lord of the East Quadrant cowers back, a look of fear on his face.
"You can't hit a God!" he yells, covering his face. "It's forbidden!"
"Then stop whacking me with that stick!" she shouts as she drops her hands once more.
He sighs in relief. "Maybe if you'd focus on meditating instead of doing all this thinking…"
She grumbles but eventually sits on the shore. Her eyes close once more, and she silences her systems, allowing only her thoughts to enter her mind. Carefully, East Kai sits down next to her, laying the staff on the sand in front of him. He sighs and stares out over the horizon of the planet. His senses soon lock onto Dróide's headspace, monitoring it for any lapse in focus. For a while, it appears that she's successful in maintaining her meditation. One by one, though, thoughts start to slip in, muddying the calm of her mind, making it turbulent and unfit for the exercise. The master rises once more and grabs the staff. He raises it above her head, but, before he can bring it down, her hand snaps out and grabs it, yanking it from his grasp.
"I said enough!" Dróide shouts.
"I've never seen a student struggle so much with meditation!" East Kai says, exasperated. "Are you all like this in the North Quadrant?"
"Why on Earth should I meditate so much?! Isn't the objective to raise my power level?"
East Kai's eyes go wide. "Do you have no idea? Honing the mind is as important as honing the body!"
"The mind has the least impact on power level," she replies, flicking open the panel on her left forearm. "The body, however, is most responsible for an increase."
"You're too scientific about this," East Kai says as he sits. "You must embrace the unknown, not improve by way of modification." He strokes his chin and suddenly straightens up. "I completely forgot! There's the perfect method on North Kai's planet that we haven't utilized yet."
East Kai stands, grabs North Kai's staff, and wanders off the shore, his legs sinking deeper into the water as he goes. Dróide, surprised at this, starts to follow him, hovering above the water. Together, the two make their way to a spot some ways off from North Kai's home, and, there, a great trench has been formed in the sand, shrouded in darkness as it descends. Her systems try and fail to register the true depth of it, and she floats anxiously around the trench as if it has the ability to suck her inward. The East Kai, however, wanders closer before bending over it, coming precariously near to the edge. He kicks some sand down the trench and then beckons for Dróide to come closer. Slowly, she drifts over but doesn't dare to truly float over it.
"If I remember correctly," East Kai says, "this is the North Kai's Pit of Reflection."
"And that is?" Dróide asks.
"A great boon for you!"
The East Kai then begins to skip around the trench, splashing water all around as he goes. His ritualistic dance continues for a few moments and a few revolutions around the Pit of Reflection; Dróide looks on from her position in the air, dumbfounded at what's occurring before her. East Kai swings the staff as he goes, spinning it in circles at an increasingly rapid speed. As he reaches the place where he started, the Kai stops spinning the staff and jams its bottom point into the soft sand beneath the water. He bows before it and then turns to Dróide again, a smirk on his face.
"Go on in!" he says mirthfully.
"Are you insane?" she answers.
"Ohohoho, getting snippy, are we? This is the easiest way to get you to focus and get past your trouble with meditation."
"How does descending into a bottomless trench allow me to train?"
"Ah," he says, "the Pit of Reflection is not just a trench, it's a pathway to enlightenment. North Kai used to spend days inside!"
"Doing what?" she asks.
"Facing his fears, of course."
"How does-"
"Enough questions!"
The East Kai puts out his hands, and, with an incantation, he summons a spout of water from the sea that sucks Dróide inside without warning. She doesn't even have time to think as she's whisked away inside the Pit of Reflection, disappearing into its maw, the East Kai's smile the last thing that she sees. For what feels like hours, she descends into nothingness, falling in the vast darkness without end. Her sensors scream alarm, everything inside of her waiting to be reduced to a corpse once the pit finally ceases. She closes her eyes, trying to focus on meditating and 'facing her fears' as East Kai had said. Then, without warning, her sensors register firm ground beneath her. She opens her eyes, and a corridor of white nothingness is before her, boxing her in. Her eyes dart this way and that, trying to identify an entrance or an exit to this strange plane of existence. When neither present themselves, she takes to wandering forward, the only direction that's available to her.
The hallway spans out eternally; there's no end in sight. She continues to walk, and her systems continue to scan. All that's out-of-place seems to be a small energy signature however. It looms in the distance, a fixed point in an otherwise infinite landscape. As she heads for it, the signature's biorhythms become slowly apparent, baffling her even more. Not only was it impossible for something to actually live in this infinite hallway, the input she receives is a mirror image of her own data. Once she realizes this, Dróide takes flight, jetting through the hallway to reach the mimicked signal. The hallway gives way to a seemingly infinite chamber, one that holds nothing except for a small dot on the horizon. Another scan confirms that this is indeed the signature that she's tracking, the one that resembles her own.
"Hey!" she yells out.
When there's no response, she attempts to fly closer. Strangely, though, the speck of black doesn't come any closer. No matter how fast she goes or for how long she flies, she remains the same distance apart. Her scans reveal nothing strange about the situation, but she knows something is wrong. To rectify this, she attempts to fire a blast of ki outward toward the energy signature, but it simply flies forward before arcing downward to the ground, creating a small explosion where it lands. The frustration building inside of her comes to a boil then, and she creates a barrier around herself. It expands outward, an attempt to breach the walls of the dimension that she finds herself in. There's a rumbling, as if the limits of the Pit are being tested, but nothing else comes of it. She lands on the ground once more and tries to maintain her calm.
The speck on the horizon still looms, unable to be sighted even with the zoom installed in her eyes. She paces back and forth, puzzling over what to do until, finally, it clicks: meditation. Immediately, she drops into a cross-legged pose just as she had on the shore of North Kai's home. The dimming of her systems' functions allows her to focus somewhat, but, soon, the thoughts creep in just as they always have. When she opens her eyes in frustration, however, she's immediately greeted with a strange sight: herself. The eyes meeting hers are certainly the same, and the angular face is her own, but there's something distinctly different here, a separation that her initial scan picks up on; there's nothing synthetic about this copy, just pure earthling biology.
As she stumbles backward awkwardly, the copy does the same. When it scratches its head, however, Dróide knows that this isn't merely an illusion or a mirror image. She scans for its life data again, and, just as before, the readings are exactly the same as her own. This makes her assume a defensive stance, ready for a fight in case the clone turns hostile. Instead of going on the offensive, however, it simply stands there, staring strangely at Dróide. Still, the original maintains her stance.
"What kind of trick is this?" she asks herself.
"This isn't a trick."
The copy's voice is exactly the same; it would be strange if it wasn't. The shock of it speaking, though, makes Dróide jump. The copy remains calm and strides forward, but the original puts out her palm and gathers energy into it, a clear telegraphed attack to warn the copy. It stops for a moment, but it doesn't seem particularly perturbed. Instead, the copy seems to expect this.
"I am not your enemy; I am a path not taken."
Dróide keeps her palm up for a moment, but, against her better judgment, she lets it fall to her side. Taking this as a sign, the copy continues moving toward her.
"This is the natural way," it says. "Without modification, you are still a warrior of great worth."
The unnerved expression on Dróide's face finally fades, changing to a smirk. "If this is to convince me to embrace my 'innate talents' or whatever, you're far too late."
"We are stubborn, closed off to other ways of thought. We miss out, however; to embrace them is to embrace freedom."
"Not a chance," Dróide retorts. "This power is more than enough."
"Then why do you fail now to achieve higher goals?"
"Because I have no access to any modifications…"
"Lies," the copy says, "you fail because you close yourself off."
"Meditation is a waste of time. The mind must be augmented, not allowed to run amok."
"Fool."
The copy stops then, its friendly demeanor changed. Dróide's sensors can read an influx of power in the copy's ki, a sure sign that it's gearing up for something. In response, she begins to bring her power to the surface as well. It's a show of force from the both of them, a demonstration of their wills. To her surprise, however, the clone's power level begins to exceed even her limits, climbing higher than she ever has. This causes her to stagger back, the cool composure behind her smirk clearly broken. The clone then takes on its own cocky smile, and, with a roar, it lets loose the last hidden portions of its power. It takes a wide stance and beckons at Dróide, apparently eager to demonstrate the strength of its conviction. Unwilling to back down, the android assumes her own stance once more, mentally preparing herself to fight her own clone.
The first clash happens in a blink, their forms barely visible as shockwaves echo outward from their blows. They blink upward, the skirmish heating up as neither gains the upper hand immediately. With a thunderous blow, however, it's the clone who lands the first clean shot, a fist to Dróide's cheek. She's sent backward by the attack before utilizing the momentum to dive downward. The copy follows, and Dróide springs her trap; she blinks to the clone's side with a diving kick. Miraculously, though, it manages to react in time, grasping her foot with both hands and sliding backward with the momentum. It spins her in a circle before launching her toward the ground. Before she crashes into the solid nothingness below, she manages to handspring back to her feet. Her landing is soon greeted by another flurry from the clone. This time, she manages to dodge the majority of the attacks, but, as she attempts to retaliate, the copy evades wildly just as she had. Then, without warning, it flashes behind her and nails her with a kick to the side of the neck.
As she barrels sideways, Dróide's sensors indicate a flash of power, a dangerous sign in a fight. She manages to twist herself to see that the clone is indeed charging an energy attack. Immediately, the thrusters in her legs jet her downward, and she lands like a sprinter in a 4-point stance facing the clone. The beam of ki, purple in color, hurtles toward her as she launches herself to meet it. Just as it's about to make contact, she whips to the left, her body now parallel to the blast. Her momentum carries her forward, allowing her to make for the copy, whose eyes go wide at the unexpected maneuver. With an extended left fist, Dróide slams into herself, jacking the copy in the jaw. As she lands with a roll, it tumbles across the floor some distance ahead of her.
Just as she's readying for another assault, though, Dróide finds herself unexpectedly on the defensive; the copy has blinked behind her and swept her feet out from under her. She attempts to spring away with a hand on the ground, but it follows along, flashing behind her and grasping her by the ankle. Dróide twists and drives a kick toward the copy's neck, a mirror of what she'd been hit with earlier. It seizes her other ankle, however, and then begins to spin her in a circle. Once the pair hit maximum speed, the copy lets go, launching Dróide away. Before she can right herself, it speeds beneath her and delivers a powerful kick to her gut, sending her skyward. Finally, she manages to recover just as the copy flies toward her; with her arms crossed, she can feel the impact of the copy's blow through her body like a bolt of lightning. When she goes to retaliate, the copy disappears entirely.
Her scans return nothing, but the hair on the back of her neck stands up. Without thinking, she twists around and barely manages to deflect a fist aiming straight for her gut. When the copy throws a kick, she ducks under it before firing back with a wheel kick of her own. This time, it lands flush on the copy's midsection, and it tumbles through the air before quickly righting itself. Another scan indicates its power hasn't slipped, an unnatural quality that makes Dróide acutely aware of the strangeness of what she's encountered. As the two stand off, it's also abundantly clear that neither will back down. In an apparent illustration of this point, the copy charges, and Dróide jets to meet her.
Here, the copy has the edge once more. It speeds past her faster than she can react and, as it reaches her midsection, delivers a blow to her stomach once more. This sends her flying sideways, allowing the copy to appear behind her and drive a knee into her spine. The blow elicits an audible gasp as the air leaves Dróide's lungs. The copy seems to take note of this as it flashes to her front, spiking her downward with a thunderous strike. She barely evades a full-on impact with the ground by engaging her thrusters sideways; as she rolls across the blank vastness, though, her sensors warn her of the copy's next attack. With barely an inch between them, Dróide dodges a foot as the copy dives downward. The impact of the attack resounds with a shockwave that shakes the ground near Dróide's head.
There's another flurry of attacks shared between the two that ends with Dróide's fist planted in the copy's gut. With another wheel kick, she sends her opponent skittering along the ground and gains much needed breathing room. Before long, however, her sensors register another flare of energy, and, as she turns, it becomes obvious that the copy is charging another beam, this time with one hand cupping the other, palms facing out. Dróide prepares her own attack, interlacing her fingers and moving both hands above her head. As the copy fires its beam, she throws her hands forward.
"Bion!" she shouts.
A beam of muted green energy fires from her hands, meeting the purple beam fired by the copy head-on. The two clash, and both versions of the android wage their wills and their ki to dominate the other. Soon, there's an explosion that seems to rock the very foundation of the endless realm. When the smoke clears, the two stand opposite each other, equally determined to prevail. The copy assumes her stance once more, and Dróide follows suit.
"Do you truly think you can win?" the copy asks.
Dróide's sensors relay the fact that her opponent's power level still has not wavered. Regardless, she stares at the copy.
"You won't best me," she says.
"Then your stubbornness will be your end."
Uzani bustles through a small crevice between two enormous rock formations, and Havorin stands outside for a minute, watching her go before tentatively crouching into the space and wriggling his way behind her. He emerges into a surprisingly wide space, one with an open sky above and a large home at the other end. Its construction is strange, resembling three wide towers constructed of the same brown-ish rock connected by a narrow hallway that runs through them at the bottom. Otherwise, there's surprisingly little in the expanse, save for a strange floating orb hugging the left wall and a well near the house. Before he can ask any questions, Uzani beckons him forth as she steps into the middle tower through an opening with no door. When he arrives, however, she's nowhere to be found; his gaze wanders the place, eyeing the strange accouterments adorning the walls and shelves. The place is certainly lived-in, but the nature of that life is foreign to Havorin. He grasps a strange looking necklace, adorned with the fangs of some creature, and turns it over. There's a shout, though, as he goes to inspect it more closely.
"Hands off!"
Uzani's head pokes out from a hole in the ceiling, her red hair dangling down and revealing a scar above her right eye and extending onto her horn. She extends an arm out and gestures for him to drop what he's holding. When he quickly replaces it on the table, she waves him up before disappearing through the opening. Instinctively, he looks for stairs but, when he realizes there are none, he begins to hover upward. Through the opening is another living area, this one resembling an Earth bedroom. Hung on the walls, however, are a myriad of staves and relics. Some of the symbols carved into the wall resemble pictograms, but all of their forms are uniformly abstract, impossible to figure out. Uzani is across the room, rummaging through a strangely-carved chest of drawers. As he lands next to her crouched form, she emerges, a pouch clutched in her hand. She then stands and, before he can stop her, throws a pinch of red powder from the pouch into the air. Her hands go out to block Havorin, and she breathes in the powder. She doesn't cough or wheeze, though; all she does is begin to smile.
"I knew I had memory dust somewhere…" She closes her eyes. "Now, what was the ritual again?"
Havorin remains there, arm outstretched, puzzled by what's occurring before him. After a moment of contemplation, the demon's eyes shoot open, and she snaps her fingers.
"I knew it!"
She hurries past him, jumping down the hole in the floor and rushing out of sight. As he turns to follow, Havorin can hear a scratching coming from the rightmost tower. Upon his arrival, she's still scratching away, making a series of concentric circles on the walls in black chalk, marking all the way up near the lofty ceiling . He examines her handiwork as she concludes; after throwing the chalk onto the floor, she claps her hands three times, forming a cloud of dust around her. He opens his mouth, but he's interrupted once more, this time by a series of muttered incantations. To his surprise, the chalk drawings on the walls are animated by the words, spinning like gears in a great machine. After opening her eyes, Uzani smiles to herself and then bustles past him again, heading for the leftmost tower. Her form disappears from sight as she floats upward to the top part of the tower, but he can still hear her wrestling something from the wall.
As she floats down, the length of a large wooden stave comes into sight with her. She balances it in her left hand, and Havorin rushes to help her. He grabs the stave from one side, urging her to lower it so they can balance its weight equally. When she does, the pair carry it into the high-roofed tower and erect it there in the center of the room. As this occurs, the concentric circles begin to slow their spinning, maintaining sluggish rotations. Uzani is pleased with this, smiling up at the stave with her hands on her hips. She then turns to Havorin, a determined expression on her face.
"Alright, that's gotta wait so, in the meantime, I have something that you may be interested in."
"And what is that?" he asks.
"Follow me," she says, pushing past him to the entrance.
Out in the harsh sun of the wasteland, she turns to the right, heading toward the mysterious white orb floating near the wall. It's taller than them and spans around 6 feet in width. The pair stop before the object, and Uzani waves her hands in circles while bringing her palms a few inches from the orb. She closes her eyes in concentration, muttering something under her breath that Havorin can't quite catch. As she puts her hands down, her expression changes, morphing into a smile.
"Ok," she says, "it should be good to go."
"What does it do?" he asks.
"I'll let it speak for itself."
With another complicated series of hand gestures, Uzani brings a burst of magical power to the surface. She raises her arms above her, and the orb responds, floating higher than it had before. As the power crests, she drops her arms back to her side and steps back. Havorin remains in silence for a moment, watching as the orb remains inert. When he turns to ask if it's working, his host has disappeared back into her home, leaving him alone with the orb. He goes to touch it, but, before he can, the orb begins to open along a sliver near its top. Instinctively, he takes a defensive stance as the sliver slowly widens. As it does, a strange purplish gas begins to pour from within, surrounding the orb and even enveloping Havorin. Before he can even think of fleeing, he's inhaled some of it. He puts his hand over his nose and mouth before trying to rush out of the cloud. To his surprise, however, there's no escaping it; he's been entirely engulfed.
Only darkness and miasma surrounds him now, and he turns this way and that, trying to find his way. When he bumps into a wall, one that looks no different from the overall darkness, he jumps backward and fires a ki blast at it. The resultant explosion illuminates the area briefly before blackness swallows him once more. He turns then, and a cloud of the gas materializes in front of him. It coalesces into a humanoid shape for a brief moment, resembling a demon like Uzani, only with a black mohawk and skin that's a lighter shade of red. He shoots out his hand to grasp it, but he simply dispels the cloud. Beyond it is a vision, one of a shadowy figure destroying the Heavenly Realm; explosions rock Etteilla's home, reducing it to rubble, and Earth's Guardian, Nuage, and Féroce are all soon to follow. Havorin rushes forward, believing the vision to be real, but only ends up destroying it once more. The purple gas begins to surround him, and he resolves to clear his mind. Sitting cross-legged in the darkness, he begins to recite the mantras of the Iron Wood. Soon, he is calm again, able to face whatever is thrown at him next.
When his eyes open, however, all that's before him is a small stone teapot on a pedestal of rock, a single teacup placed next to it. His eyes dart from side to side, trying to identify if this is a trap. He sights nothing, though, and his senses can't discern any immediate danger. The purple gas still surrounds him, but a path has been cleared to the teapot, leaving only darkness between him and the object. He rises to his feet and slowly makes his way to it, still vigilant for any surprise attacks. When he reaches the pedestal, he grabs the teapot and inspects it. Liquid sloshes around inside of it, and he sets it back down, puzzled. Against his better judgment, he pours what's inside the teapot in the teacup; what comes out is entirely black in color, with no smell to it at all. He puts a finger inside but quickly withdraws it once he feels a burning sensation. Then, ignoring his judgment again, he raises the teacup to his lips and gulps down the entirety of the cup's contents.
Immediately, he's overcome; he drops to his knees and roars in pain. His ki falters, falling and falling without end, and his aura disappears. It feels as though poison filters through his veins, stinging every cell as it passes. Soon, his muscles are engulfed in flame, and he begins to retch from the pain. His consciousness threatens to flicker away, darkness overwhelming his vision. Only sheer willpower allows him to remain awake, able to feel the intense pain that inhabits his body. Soon, another ki begins to appear, overwhelming his own power; it's darker in character, resembling the magic that Uzani had used to dispel the horde of demons. He resists it, and, in return, it begins to boil his blood. His fist pounds on the floor without him willing it to, and he can feel his control over the rest of his body wavering. Then, it clicks in his mind, the purpose of this test.
He relinquishes himself to the foreign ki. The pain does not cease, then, but overcomes him entirely. Just as he's about to fade into unconsciousness, though, his power resurges, newly blended with the liquid's ki. He can feel his power not only return but grow in strength, and he stands, charging it with a shout that resounds through the darkness. An aura reappears around him as he does so, this time purplish in color. With a final kiai, he dispels the darkness and the miasma, revealing that he truly hasn't moved from where he started. Even the teapot and teacup have vanished, but his power remains, resplendent in the heat of the wasteland.
Féroce dreams of doom, of skies filled with fire, and of power beyond comparison. She stirs fitfully until, finally, her eyes flutter open to an unfamiliar ceiling. Her entire body feels leaden and stiff, unable to be willed to action. Regardless, she tenses the muscles in her arms, but a searing pain in the tendons forces her to stop. Her eyes then dart to the right as someone pushes open the door. It's Etteilla, and it suddenly clicks in her mind that she must be sheltered in the Guardian's house. As her other memories come flooding back, however, Féroce's eyes go wide. Before she can speak, however, the shriveled-looking woman puts out her hand.
"Haine is dead," she says. "We're safe for the time being."
Féroce closes her eyes as she hears this, comforted by the Guardian's words. Despite this, she knows that they are still in grave danger; Haine's assault had only been the beginning. Now that the doctors have the ability to seek out the Heavenly Realm, they won't stop pursuing Etteilla until she's dead and the dragon balls have been taken out of play. She attempts to rise again at this thought but struggles once more as pain shoots through her body. Etteilla rests a hand on her.
"Rest," she says, patting Féroce. "Nuage's healing must take a day to return once it is used so you'll be out of commission until then."
"B-but…"
"We must rest our hopes on those not here, they alone can save us."
Féroce's blood boils at this. She's powerless now, completely at the mercy of others. It's a fate she hasn't been resigned to since she was a child relying on Malveil to protect her. Etteilla's calm is the only thing preventing her from lashing out. Realizing this, the Guardian of Earth begins to speak in her thoughts.
"Your time will come, I assure you."
Féroce continues to brood.
Cube raises its arms above its head, drawing ki into its palms before raining it down on another city. An entire district is razed to ashes with its handiwork, and masses of people run through the streets in terror. Near the synthetic being, sitting in a large and sophisticated craft that floats above the city, the doctors rejoice at the events happening around them.
"All of Earth's governments will soon bow to us!" Goetta says.
"And we will rule the world with an iron fist!" Shaker adds.
Packos rubs her hands together. "If they resist, Cube will make short work of them!"
As they talk, a part of the ship's bay opens, and Cube lands inside.
"Your task is done," it says.
"Good," Packos answers. "Wait here for a while, we should be getting offers from the kingdom any time now."
"Understood."
Cube walks to a corner and stands stiffly, staring at nothing in particular. Packos watches it for a moment before turning to face the other doctors.
"Now," she says, "we must send another pawn to destroy the dragon balls."
"Who should it be?" Goetta asks.
"I have an idea," Shaker says.
When the others turn toward him questioningly, he laughs.
"Call in Faucon."