A/N: To support me, pls donate and subscribe
Paypal: bit.ly/kaioshinpaypal
Patreon: patreon.com/KAIOSHIN
YouTube channel: Kaioshin Theorizer
youtube.com/@kaioshintheoriesandanalysi7427
______________________________________________
đInsert GIFs and Images Here - Put Here Rukia Kuchiki best pictures and Gifs!đ
(POV Ethan)
I woke up that morning with my consciousness still clouded, my senses dulled by the intense experience of the previous night. Ginaâmy partner, my provocateurâhad left me utterly exhausted, not just physically but on a psychological level of tension and desire. Our intimacy was always marked by a complex dynamic of power and surrender, a seductive game where boundaries dissolved with an almost primal intensity.
My gaze wandered over her silhouette, that fascinating creature who seemed to encapsulate every possible mystery and provocation. There was something about her presence that completely destabilized meâa magnetism beyond the merely physical. In that moment, we were united by a purpose that transcended instinct: conception, that act as sublime as it is visceral, of creating life.
The external sounds seemed more intense that morning, as if resonating with the echoes of our own intimate turbulence. An auditory dissonance that seemed to want to shatter the delicate state of contemplation in which we found ourselves.
The tension in the environment suddenly exploded when I heard the desperate cry: "THERE'S A BODY HERE!" In that fragmented instant, my consciousness reorganized itself instantaneously. Using the teleportation technique, I instantly swapped the pillow for my position, materializing in the space with almost mathematical precision. In a subsequent, swift movement, I dressed quickly, preparing for what was to come.
My destination was the central building, the epicenter of the combat where competitors were being registered. The place was teeming with a tumultuous and frenetic crowd. Navigating that human sea with almost superhuman dexterity, I literally flew over the heads of the crowd, my body slicing through the space like a precise projectile.
Upon reaching the core of that chaotic environment, I visualized the martial arts tournament announcer pinning someone to the ground. In a flash of recognition, I identified the victim: it was the companion from the iconic Turtles School, now inert on the floor amidst the whirlwind of adrenaline and expectation.
"Krillin!" I shouted, flying toward them.
The sight of Krillinlying there unleashed a torrent of raw and calculated emotions in me. Adrenaline mixed with an ancestral rage coursed through every fiber of my being. Piccoloâthat despicable beingâhad sent one of his offspring to carry out this macabre mission, claiming the life of one of the most respected martial artists.
Using my ki sensing technique, I expanded my sensory consciousness in a fraction of a second. The environment around me transformed into a mosaic of energies, each vibration competing for my attention. Then, like a calibrated laser, I located the being responsible for the murder: a winged, green, sinister reptile hovering near the scene.
In a movement defying earthly physics, I launched toward it. My body cut through the air at a speed the human eye could hardly register. The distance between us closed in fractions of a second, my energy condensing into an invisible blade poised to sever any resistance.
The reptilian being sensed my approach even before I completed my movement. Its green scales reflected a calculating intelligence, a predator aware of its own lethality. Membranous wings prepared for a dodge that, in any other confrontation, would have been deemed impossible.
"You will pay for Krillin's death," I growled, my voice laced with determination that transcended conventional human emotion.
The reptile responded with a guttural sound, something between a hiss and a defiant scream. Its vertical pupils locked onto me with a cold calculation, as if it had already computed all possible outcomes of this confrontation.
But it didn't know my true potential. It didn't realize that every cell in my body was a war machine programmed to eliminate any threat. My ki technique wasn't just a skill.
I concentrated all my energy into a specific point in the palm of my right hand. A bluish sphere of light began to form, pulsing with an intensity that seemed to drain all the surrounding luminosity. It was my ultimate attack, a technique combining surgical precision with a destructive force capable of piercing dimensions.
"Die!" I screamed, releasing all that concentrated energy.
The projectile tore through space in a straight, relentless trajectory, carrying with it my pain of loss, rage of betrayal, and thirst for vengeance. Krillin deserved to be avenged. And I would be the instrument of this cosmic justice.
The reptilian being tried to evade, but it was too late. My attack struck with millimetric precision, shattering not only its physical body but dispersing its energetic essence in a single, definitive moment.
When the dust settled, only emptiness remainedâa perfect symbol of the absence Krillin had left and the vengeance I had just exacted.
The battle had ended. But something told me this was just the first chapter of a much larger war.
(Third-Person POV)
Inside a massive aircraft, there were four unique individuals, one of whom was seated on a throne. Piccolo Daimaoh, an ancient being over 200 years old, radiated anger on his face.
Someone had killed one of his children. He saw the eventâit left him far from satisfied.
The interior of the aircraft was an environment of palpable tension. Piccolo Daimaoh, the ancient Namekian, radiated an ancestral fury that seemed to condense in the air around him. His eyes, deep as abysses of hatred, scanned the other three occupants of the ship without truly seeing themâhis mind entirely consumed by the loss of one of his descendants.
The child's death was not just a casualty. It was a personal insult, a direct challenge to his authority and power. Every fiber of his ancient being cried out for retaliation, for vengeance that would be remembered through the ages.
"Who dared?" his voice echoed through the compartment, a sound more roar than question.
The other three beingsâequally unique and powerful creaturesâexchanged loaded glances. The hierarchy was clear: no one would dare respond to Piccolo in this moment of primordial fury.
One of the occupants, a creature resembling a mix between a dwarf and a dog, cautiously approached. His movements were calculated, each step seeming like a mathematical survival equation.
"Master," it said in an annoyingly grating voice, "we have information about the perpetrator. A human. Ethan. It must be this warrior."
Piccolo did not move. He didn't need to. His stillness was more threatening than any physical action could have been.
The being continued, "He eliminated our scout. A warrior from the Turtles School named Krillin was also killed in the process."
A glacial silence filled the space. The aircraft seemed to hold its breath in the presence of the concentrated negative energy emanating from Piccolo.
The revenge would be a masterpiece of precision and terror. And Ethan would soon learn the true meaning of provoking a being like Piccolo Daimaoh.
The war was just beginning.