[DB CHALLENGE] The Killer's High

He had felt a slight shift in the air, one not strong enough to worry him. Most certainly, it was stress playing tricks on him at this time. Not the first time it happened. But it was when the singular voice echoed throughout the empty desert that things became clear. And much more serious. He watched as a stranger circled around him, never averting his sight from the pale silhouette before him. A talker, that was for sure. Obviously, he had a very good hunch about what he was here for and his statement only made it clearer. Now, how would he get out of this?

Something piqued his interest, however. He claimed to have already three dragon balls at his disposal and needed only four. Including the one Dosu possessed. He thought about reaching for his radar to see if this person had them on his person, but that could prove a grave mistake. Actually, it didn’t even matter. He figured he’d have to beat him up anyway to get them.

“So, who are you?” he inquired. If the man was to present himself, perhaps he should’ve done so from the get-go instead of going all verbose on the Heran.

Compensation? Sure, the idea of remuneration sparked some interest in the mercenary, but it quickly dissolved. Nothing was worth more than his wish. As long as he had his Dragon Ball, he had some weight in the overall state of things. The goodies wouldn’t kill him outright and given the nature of his wish, he could probably make a point for himself. But he didn’t know who this guy was. That was a problem.

“I won’t give it to you. I need it for a wish of my own, y’see. You should go on ahead if you’re that hurry. You look like you have time to spare, don’t you?”

This pale figure, it kept reminding him of that ghost girl he fought on the Lookout. If that was the case, then his situation was probably more of a pressing matter than his could ever be. Sadly, he couldn’t tell whether or not the guy was strong, but as he did with everyone else, he’d at least assume he was as strong as he was. The ghost-looking guy’s confident attitude could be only vain boasting, after all. Did he expect him to leave right away? No. But within the next moments, he figured he’d see just how serious the guy was.

There was something incredibly annoying about this person. Simple answers quickly became entire monologues and the air of vainness about it made it impossible to empathize with him. Nonetheless, the threat was heard and understood. He didn’t care much about his name, his face was more than enough to get a rough idea of who he was dealing with. Since he held himself in such high regards, there was the possibility he used to have some kind of power in this world, before his inevitable fall from grace, that is. Now he was comparing his goal to his. Really, he was starting to piss him off. His expression changed to that of an annoyed grin.

“Fine, have it your way. My wish only concerns me. Whatever you want doesn’t mean shit to me, no matter how grand it is. It will always be beneath me. And to make sure I get that wish, I’ll put my very life on the line. It’s all connected, after all.”

Dosu first noticed the cold of the air, followed by changes in his opponent’s physical appearances. Most of it appeared to be minor, not very threatening. There was however something eerie and unsettling about this. Something even the ghost on the Lookout failed to evoke in him. Was that what potentially awaited him? Faced with the notion of his own demise, the Heran couldn’t help but wonder. But he would not falter.

Yet another monologue, one that brought a smile to his face. His fear was ridiculous at best. The nothingness he feared so wasn’t all that bad.

“I do not fear it. Rather, I’d welcome it over being stuck in this endless cycle any longer. I was born to believe to death was the end. I still wish to believe in that, even if you present yourself as the opposite of it. You fearing it brings me hope, however. If I cannot tear this world apart with my two hands, then at the very least, I can opt-out of it.”

He saw the ball of ki forming. He thought nothing of it.

“Then, let’s see how you struggle against a speck like me.”

Concentrating his ki, he powered up in a single outburst of energy. Good, his body was responding well enough to allow him a fighting chance. Maybe, just maybe he could pull this off. Now to see just how much of a threat the apparition was.

True to himself, he dashed towards his opponent, attempting to deliver a punch straight to where his guts used to be. Ghost physiology was unknown to him, but he figured he’d find out soon enough. As he delivered the first hit, hopefully connecting with his target, he took a half-step back to hit with his other fist, this time aiming at the face.

It took a full second to realize what had happened, how easy his strikes had been deflected. The hand crushing his even made his knees shake from pain. His sole response was a grunt and the Heran was trying to keep face in front of the apparition. Worries began flooding his mind. What was it, exactly? Had his strength already left him? Was this all he could muster up in front of his enemy? Or was the difference in strength simply that overwhelming. He recollected a past encounter with Kayen, the current queen of the Saiyans. How he failed to even land a proper strike on her as well. Was this to be a repeat of that singular encounter? No, of course not. The pale man had made it clear. He was to send him to his grave.

His grin vanished quickly. Veins began popping on his forehead and neck as he tried to wrestle his arm free. He could feel himself struggling in vain as he was slowly being overpowered. This had to be the most unpleasant feeling he knew. Being powerless.

“SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!” he roared. ”You Saiyan-looking freak, I’m tired of hearing you ramble. You’re just lucky I’m not in my best shape, I would’ve already crushed your windpipe by now!” he gritted his teeth at the thought. “Hell! If this world had been even the slightest bit more fair, you would probably never had the chance to draw your first breath.”

On his warpath, he would have stopped the new generation from ushering into existence. A lie he told himself since he had no way of ever guessing how things would end up. But still, if not for this ridiculous, pitiful body, this idiot would be pleading for his life right about now. When he touched his face, the Heran was already seething. He’d rip off those fingers and shove them down his throat. Then came the headbutt and he was sent flying back. He felt his head ringing, maybe he had lost consciousness for a second or two. His nose felt heavy and the sand beneath him ran red from the blood pissing down from it.

“Bastard…” he said between his teeth. If he had to go all out, right now was the moment. He powered up once more, forsaking defense for pure offense and launched himself towards Kalabas. He kept his body low and once in range, attacked with a wide swing aimed just below his left ribs.

“Let’s see how you like this, now!”

He felt a bit lightheaded, probably due to the hit to his face, but now that he was stronger, odds were a bit more in his favor.

He felt the hit connect, as cleanly as it could and he waited for something. His contentment wore off after a couple of seconds, when he realized that Kalabas’ body wasn’t curling around his fist as it should have, his body remaining solid and firm. Then came the acting, the false pain and supplication only used to make a mockery out of him. He should have been angry. He should have been furious. But above all that, there was a feeling that triumphed over the rest. The feeling of powerlessness. This was his absolute best, the strongest he could get, stronger than everything he had been up to his point. Despite the illness, despite the injuries, he had grown above all of that. But in the end, it wasn’t enough.

Blood slowly dripped from his nose, staining his mustache and beard. It felt weird. Usually, he would have been angry at himself. However, prior to this encounter, he had plenty of time to consider his situation. Enough to understand that this was his inevitable fate to perish. That he might find some peace of mind through resignation. Yeah, no point in struggling anymore.

The words of the ex-Saiyan fell on deaf ears. Even if he considered them, what could he say? He was never close to his origin, much less to supposed parents he never even met. Maybe he was right, but given his bias, surely this was said in order to provoke him. Shit, if he could’ve at least died at the hand of someone worthy of respect. Whatever, beggars can’t be choosers.

He took a few steps back, felt a weakness in one leg and dropped on his knees, his shoulders low. Any semblance of fighting spirit was gone. He did laugh at the futility of it all. Just one laugh that resembled a hiccup more than anything. He grabbed a handful of sand, get to feel the texture one last time. Would he miss this place? Probably not. His only regret was, well, not doing enough. Never enough. His muscles reverted to their usual size, trembling from the stress he had imposed on them. Powering up while in this state was taxing enough on his body.

“Fuuuck…” he let out in a sigh. His voice was calm, perhaps a bit distant. “I hate it. You, this, everything. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. You’re in a hurry, right? Then finish this. I gave it my all. I have nothing more. You’ve won.”

He didn’t have any last words. Instead, he closed his eyes. May he never wake up from this.

He was ready to die and yet…

He had resigned to his fate and yet…what was that burning feeling welling up in his chest?

His journey had been a long and painful one, the swift release of death should be the thing to release him from it all. But he couldn’t find peace within himself. He could not accept it. No matter if he was outclassed, no matter if he had been ridiculed and humbled so many times. Something urged him to act. Something, alongside that…heat? It was soothing at first, but it got progressively unpleasant. It felt wrong, chaotic and supernatural. His breathing became profound and irregular. He had felt this once, before. It first occurred on Knutts, when the Heran feared for his life, before his rage surpassed this said fear and exploded outwards, hurting him greatly in the process. He didn’t have any recollection of it beyond that point. In this present case, he did not fear death and instead of being focused on himself for being so weak, his hatred was aimed at the entire world. Emotions failed to describe this sensation of absolute hate.

“ARE YOU DONE? WHAT’S TAKING YOU SO LONG?”

He shouted towards the ghost. A plea to get this over with. A grimace of both pain and rage deformed his face as his breathing got even more profound and jerky, his chest visibly moving up and down from a distance. He didn’t feel right and fought against it as best as he could. On the other side of the battlefield, his opponent was telling him and indulge in fighting, if only to give himself good conscience. Then, it dawned on him. The only thing that would bring peace to his mind was total destruction. He had ignored this urge so many times, but at this very last moment, it came back full force and started echoing louder and louder. A cacophony that surely would get any person on the verge of madness.

“HURRY UP GODDAMNIT!”

Yes, part of him still resisted. Out of fear, he had chosen to dismiss this fragment of his soul as not being himself. As a result, he felt a lot more sane and in control of his emotions, something that was deemed necessary to last in fights where he did not have the upper hand. Perhaps he should have tried to understand more, back then. The warmth completely enveloped him, he could hear whispers that made him tremble. They begged for mayhem, for blood. For death. As red as blood and as destructive as a supernova.

‘If I am to die anyway…’

This sole idea sent shivers down his spine, tingles on the back of his neck.

‘Then I don’t care what happens to my body…I’ll go all out this one last time.’

And if he was to do that, then he supposed this was a curtain call for him. What he would become, what the ghost would fight, he had no idea what it could be. But it wasn’t him, or so he thought.

“Farewe…”

'This is my life's final act...'

Before he could finish his word, a huge pillar of ki engulfed him, shooting high into the sky. It gave off so much heat that the horizon around it rippled. Whereas everything was previously orange due to the setting sun, now everything was washed in a deep crimson red. At the feet on the column of energy, sand slowly melted into glass. After a while, he emerged.

SPOILER: Click to show

Skin a dark green, cracked all over his body and from it what seemed like ki seeped out, rolling up his body before dissipating in the sky. Behind his neck and shoulder blades ki erupted, so dense it appeared tangible and flame-like. A form that could barely be contained by his frail body, to the point where it was being consumed as well. His eyes, blackened and only showed vivid yellow irises, more akin to a beast than a man. A transformation unlike what was common for Herans and yet, so deeply tied to their roots.

***

Legends were told of the primordial beings that fathered the current Heran race. Animalistic creatures that had more in common with beasts than actual sentient beings, who reveled in the chaos they weaved, their sole motivation residing in a solemn vow to destroy, conquer and kill. They couldn’t function in social environments, their violent tendencies making them prone to killing even their own offspring, should it suffice to sate their thirst for savagery. Such creatures were condemned to exile by nature, but such a fate would mean the end of their race. As the generations went by, they learned restraint against their own kind, allowing them to form pseudo-societies where balance hang by a thread. Many eyed the position of leader and one misstep could mean the end. While this aura of mistrust was particular to each clan and made for a livable yet unpleasant atmosphere, the wars between two rival groups were as deadly as ever. To conquer their own kin was to prove their superiority as well as a way to gather more manpower by taking the survivors into their own clan. Naturally, each clan slowly drifted away from the others, eventually seeking to establish themselves in other worlds. While their numbers were scarce, their strength more than made up for it and soon enough, they started planting their seeds across the galaxy. By mixing their genes with other species, they slowly were able to contain their own savagery, becoming smarter, more sociable and forming more complex communities. Eventually, they were no longer the savage barbarians of old, but a fully functional species that was able to prosper and that was allowed to think about the future. Still, some carried within themselves the vestiges of old, giving birth to some highly unstable individuals, most of whom failed to stand the test of time due to their savage and violent nature.

Through some clever twist of fate, Dosu had inherited that particularity from both parents. While rare, it was not by any means a unique thing. The true feat was how he had managed to survive for so long and not succumb to his warped mind and gory cravings. And now, finally losing himself in that long-forgotten power, he was able to truly be free.

***

Dosu stood upright, motionless for a while. He started noticing himself, watched how his body had changed. He did not show disbelief nor contentment, but a wicked smile had been decorating his face for a while. Was he even self-aware at this point? It was as if he was high on power itself. Or madness, perhaps. He looked around, for a short while before finally setting his gaze to his enemy. His facial expression did not change.

“Haaa…hahahahaha.”

Even his voice was warped by the sudden change, something more guttural to it than previously. What was he laughing at, exactly? Surely, it could be dismissed as a madman’s folly. He turned his gaze away, ever so slowly, completely ignoring the man. In a flash, he disappeared, only to reappear in front of the ghost. He did not give any murderous instinct. In fact, he did not give off any vibe at all. The split-second it took for him to close the gap between him and his opponent should’ve been quite a surprise in itself, seeing how it was totally on a different scale than before. His right hand came forward, with both thumb and index fingers forward, aiming right at his eyes, attempting to gouge them and if successful, attempting to drive them even further into his head. During that whole attack, Dosu still looked to his left, as if preoccupied with something else. If Kalabas was the observing kind, perhaps he would’ve noticed his smile growing larger. If able to see at all.

“Hacked…Finely chopped…Haaaah…Hah! Stubby fingers…” All words he had told him before. He remembered them…apparently. “Hahahahaha!...”

Then he shifted his gaze towards the possibly eyeless ghost in a fashion so grotesque and unnatural it was unsettling.

“Ḩ̸̘̞͎͔̺͑͐̍̊̽̈̒̂̕ͅA̶̳̩̎̔̃͊̊H̵̳̝̹͖͍̣̱͒̎͌Ä̴̲͙͙̉̃̔̎͒̚͘͠H̸̡͈̰̤͖͙̹͍̬̑̊̅̾͜͝͝A̶̺̲̥͕̐͐̈͒̌̒͋H̸̯̮̗̱̦͂͑̌̒̎̑̀͜Å̶̧̛̱̥̳̤͈̿̽̔͑͌̀̕͜͝H̶̠͎͖̄A̶̢͍͙̗̤̲͋̀H̷̡̠̗̓̌͑͝Ă̵̯̦̞̙̻͎̾̾̐̐͐̀͆H̸̹̱̺̼̞̭̄̂̋͆͒̽A̴̧̡̬̭̘̙̭̲͉̍̎́ͅH̵͕̮̝̐̌̄̌̓̋̀͑̚͝A̷̧̰̞̩̼̩̹̗̐̓͊̌̄̽͝͝” He roared, all sounds warped and fucked, before responding with a headbutt of his own, hopefully sending him away.

And what about this aura, slowly filling the atmosphere around them. Chaotic and heavy, it slowly became ubiquitous. Just what had he become?

His thoughts were familiar, sensations he had already experienced at some points in his life. Sometimes they came together, sometimes he would single out one of these particular feelings. For the first time, however, he had given them free reins over his mind. He was not trying to keep them in check, not trying to suppress them out of fear. Instead, he savored the moment, felt the waves of bliss crashing upon his body. The outside world was but a mere afterthought. He knew what was going on, but he didn’t care. Notions of friend and foe seemed irrelevant and from this heightened state of mind, only his own pleasure was worth reaching. Vivid visions of chaos and entropy flooded his mind, even the sight of Kalabas was deformed to the point of being unrecognizable. It was a mix of reality and superimposed images of blood and gore, crafted by the Heran’s brain. Discovering himself anew, he was certain that this was how he should be living his life and how much of a fool he was for not listening to himself any sooner. This death wish, his desire for destruction was now within his grasp.

Events that unfolded before him were pretty much the same, albeit a bit more abstract due to his altered perception of reality. After piercing through the ghost’s head, he did not see wisps or his eyes reforming. Instead, from those black hollow holes, he only saw several more eyes popping out, perhaps a dozen fighting for a place in each one of their orbits. The ectoplasm on his bloodied fingers spawned a dozen more of these eyes, arms protruding from them and elongating and pushing his head back as he tried to headbutt. He welcomed the hallucinations and didn’t try to chase them or rationalize them. The very being before him defied all reason, after all.

Even after the other barrage of insults, he still cackled. After all, this wasn’t some kind of acting on his part. He was thoroughly fascinated by the flashing colors, the beauty of carnage and desecration. It was like the finest tapestry unraveling before his eyes, bringing forth an almost childlike curiosity. His mouth opened once again.

“I don’t care anymore about you. I’ve found something…Ah yes, so much better. What you do…Ah! I only see a dead body! Hahaha. Your feelings, your desires…they don’t reach me anymore. You are something to crush and break. Just a hollow husk, like a dead tree. If only you could see it too.”

Even his eyes did not look at him as they would look at a person. Kalabas was an object, a thing. What point was there in adding purpose to his attack? Such unreasonable things he was asking of him. The ghost attacked, flashing punches and kicks he could see and anticipate, but he did not try to avoid and instead tried to catch them with his own hands. Most of them flew past him, hitting his body and face, but he did manage to catch his hand on one of the last attacks. He tried to bend it on the wrong side of his elbow as someone would do to a twig. Successful or not, he let go afterward.

Instinctively, he gathered his energy. The sole desire to destroy overtook him and containing himself was hard. He was acting mostly on impulse, like a beast. Suddenly, all of the energy seeping out of his body changed course to return. This caused the cracks all over his body to shine ever so brightly. Red fume escaped from his mouth as his energy increased further, rivaling that of the ghost. It was his turn to attack.

He started by a series of punches aimed at the weakest part of the body, namely the joints, neck, stomach. The intent was to break things, but after witnessing him regenerate his eyes, surely this would cause no real damage. Not that he considered it, however.

After the punches, he grabbed the ghost by the throat, tightening his grasp on him before tossing him high into the sky. High enough in the blood-soaked sky that the ground below seemed so distant. Then, the ki-charged beast of a Heran grabbed Kalabas by the scalp of his hair and one leg, placing the body on its back just over his shoulders, the Saiyan’s face facing towards the sky. Now at the top of their altitude, they began plummeting towards the ground, gaining speed at a maddening rate which caused bursts of laughter to escape Dosu’s throat. Like a missile crashing on the ground, the impact would be devastating. As he hit the ground, pulled down on the ghost’s body, attempting a good old-fashioned backbreaker from a kilometer-high fall and all the energy amassed unleashed itself in a huge explosion, Forming yet another pillar of raw, destructive energy to shoot towards the sky. During the explosion, the Heran held tight on the ghost, forcing his perhaps broken body to bear the brunt of the explosion.

The dust settled after a moment. Dosu stood in the middle of a kilometer wide crater, a few hundred meters deep. The attack wiped out almost any semblance of life living in the area. The most surprising thing was that all around them and even beyond the crater itself, the sand had completely melted due to the vast amount of energy released, making the ground a vast expanse of unpolished glass, reaching several kilometers around. He tossed the body away.

“Bwahahaha. Beautiful.”