The Perfect Place [Closed]

Lord Blezad nodded at Maple's affirmation of his newfound understanding. It made sense, given all of the strange events that had plagued even the Arcosian's more recent history. Two hundred years wasn't a vast amount of time for Blezad's species, but recent internal and external conflict had reduced their average lifespan from several hundred years down to something closer to all of the other species in the galaxy. This chaos was something Lord Blezad hoped to rectify, although it wasn't as if he, as an individual, particularly cared for the lives of his fellow Arcosians. No, the changeling noble didn't care for people regardless of their species; his vocal hatred of the saiyans was only a half-truth. He didn't believe that the apes were truly people, that was very clear in his dealings with them. But Lord Blezad's secret was that he believed very few beings were actually people. So many beings were locked into a perpetual half-existence, 'smart' by nature of their brain functions but too stupid to actually perceive the world as anything more than what they were told it was. 

Blezad's current vendetta against the saiyans was merely a hobby. True, it could be perceived as the relatively young Arcosian carrying on his father's legacy, but Blezad didn't care much for legacy. He pretended that the World Trade Fleet meant something special for the Arcosian people, but all it really meant to Lord Blezad was the accumulation of comforts and powers. New wines and able-bodied servants, vast planetary playgrounds where the rich and powerful could indulge their every desire.

Only, if that was the sole truth, then why was Blezad on Earth now? The World Trade Fleet believed that the destruction of the saiyans was vital to their survival, and against his own thought processes, the gaunt, smoke-coloured Arcosian agreed with them. There was one fear his father had placed inside him that Blezad could not flush out.

The golden warrior. An Age of Super Saiyans. Saiyan armies blitzing across dark star systems and eradicating the Arcosians in their royal, legendary fury. 

The two galactic factions were the precipice of something huge. Only one species would survive this war, and whoever did would have free reign of the galaxy, an eternal future. 

Maple's final words, however, resonated with something deep within Lord Blezad. In that instance, the fear of the Super Saiyan and the desire for a resolution to a millenia-old conflict was weakened and forgotten. The creators of this zoo of a universe, the Arcosian replayed in his head. The creators. 

What did this storied struggle mean in the face of all-powerful creators? 

That everything the Arcosians, that the Saiyans, that Lord Blezad had done or planned to do was a meaningless game, like marbles spilling out and crashing into each other after being cast into a swirling, curved arena? What did consciousness mean when those sapient enough to understand the universe were still not enlightened enough to see past those prison walls, to walk among--no, not walk among, kill those who would keep them trapped in only this realm?

Lord Blezad blinked. He felt both as if he had awakened for the first time, and as if he were drowning in his newfound understanding of the world. 

The Arcosian noble shook his head. "I'll do what I can to help you, Maple Moonshi, if you can help me. Us."