Slightly happy, slightly disgruntled at having my side quest simply resolved, I made my way to my destination. The guy's memories were filled with all kinds of fun knowledge, most of which was useless unless I decided to go full vigilante. Which sounded boring. I mean, is it even a crime if a majority of the populace is doing it? If a majority believe murder and rape are acceptable what can the minority do about it?
Well, jack-shit apparently. The police were either bought out or unwilling to break the unspoken rules. The only safe locations were the towers throughout the cavern city. Them and their peripheral areas were heavily policed by mercenaries, not the local underpaid police force.
It almost seemed fortuitous that my destination was one the towers, specifically an under-rise tower. Named as such because it was a tower based in the below, but rose, hence the under-rise. It also didn't breach the cavern ceiling, instead settling right on it to help secure the cavern. Those towers that broke to the surface were given the normie name of High-rise tower.
Stepping into the area around the tower was a stark difference. The stench of decay and death was blasted away. Replaced instead with the smell of chemical cleaner. The buildings here were actually built to some code, meaning alleys were actually capable of being traversed by the common alien. Mercenaries armed in shiny black armor moved in teams of five, heavy duty rifles in their arms as they walked the periphery.
I garnered a few glances as I crossed the threshold, but nobody stopped me. I didn't look like the worst of the slums, which automatically meant I was likely not going to cause trouble. The closer to the tower I got the busier it got, until I got near the base of the tower. It was lit up, massive television screens displaying what it was known for.
Cage fights. The tower was owned by a certain syndicate that made its money off having poor schmucks duke it out in a caged arena. Despite it not breaking through to the top it had a lot of visitors and made a fortune, I assume through clever broadcasting deals. The poor, hungry, desperate all found themselves here to sign up and change their lives or earn a living.
The lucky, or more aptly the talented, found themselves joining the syndicates pit fighting roster. Made into celebrities, paid through the nose, prospects through the roof, and even provided company housing and food. A perfect place for a budding fighting maniac like me. Granted, it wasn't the fight itself. I could likely kill every fighter, even their titled fighter that I only had a vague impression of.
Which meant I had to sandbag. The list was easy enough. First, no energy beams. I could try to use telekinesis, but I needed to train it. With some effort I could turn it into something formidable, I suspect, but I also wanted to improve my fighting technique. I wasn't sure how long I'd stick with it though. I'd likely get bored soon enough.
If it got bothersome I might just ditch, but it was the easiest and the most legitimate method to earn the money I needed for my debt. Not just that, but every minute I was in this cavern I felt something in me bubble. I wasn't sure what it was, but my instinct was telling me it may be useful, if not necessary.
I made my way through the crowds, people moving out of my way out of instinct. Curious glances land on me as I move. I could feel the eyes licking my body, the feeling only making me grin more. I entered the building with little trouble, the lights flashing, the interior dark almost like a club as monitors covered almost every wall. Colorful and flashing drinks filled tables as crowds talked.
I walked towards a hidden and deserted corner. A single counter with a bored looking alien, male, man? I'm just calling all male humanoids men now… Either way, I walked up to the bar, and he glanced at me.
"Drinks aren't served here." He said dismissively, looking back to whatever, it was… ah, a tablet. He looked up at me as I hovered over the bar.
"I want to sign up as a fighter." He sighs, looks me up and down, appraises me.
"Well, you look fit enough, but your stance looks like shit. Can you really handle the ring?"
"Oh definitely, I can handle anything you can throw at me, but… I do have to ask you don't send anybody valuable. Or rather, I'd like if the first fight you gave me was a deathmatch."
His eyebrows raised at that.
"Deathmatch, huh?"
"Right. And if you have any special criteria for this match all the better."
He thinks. Looks at me…
"Ya know what, Fine. I'll set you up for a blood sport match. The only thing I want is you to rip the man apart, piece by piece. Good?"
I grin, "Definitely." He gives me another look before fiddling with his tablet. I swear I hear him mutter under his breath about crazies.
"Follow me to the back, we'll set you up in a second here."
I follow him through some wide tunnels, and he leaves me right before a large gate where other people wait. They glance at me confused. Some look gaunt, some dangerous.
"When the door opens, get in." He says and starts walking away.
"Got any signals for when I stay inside?" I yell out to him, he stops and turns with a frown. Coming to a decision he sighs.
"Fine, If I do this." One hand looks like a chopper chopping down on the other. "Means dismember, bloodier the better." He raises a fist. "Means fight, but don't make it a spectacle. Just beat the guy." Two fists bumping. "This means put on a show."
I nod along. "Got it." I affirm. The man sighs and walks off.
"Girl, you sure about this?" An older fellow says to me. A little thin, but lean. His skin is a dusk-ish blue. His attire was more wasteland-esque than normal with leathers and metal spikes.
"A walk in the park." I replied after scanning him. He opens his mouth to continue but decides against it and goes silent.
"You a simian?" I turn to the voice's owner, a humanoid… monkey? "Why are you hairless?" I found myself staring before replying.
"Ah, no, I'm a Saiyan."
"Oh… huh…" He says after looking at my swaying tail but says nothing else as he goes silent. Rather the mood here's pretty low. It does make sense since they don't know how a fight will turn out until right before they're called in. If anything, they look happy that I'm next. Just as I start getting bored, the door cranks open.
My back straight, I strut in like I own the place. The first step off concrete is on sand. The air smells of blood and fear. I glance briefly at the sides as men and women wearing outfits turn a wheel lifting the metal slab of a door behind me. The stadium explodes in noise as I take my stand. Across from me is a man wearing an executioner outfit and wielding a cleaver and hook.
Fresh entrails hanging off their weapon as the crowd screams in adulation. My hair tingles, my teeth ache as I imagine them cheering for me. This ring would be mine. The thought of sending a trill down my spine. My heart was pumping at the sensation, the thought, the thrill. I stood across from him, eyes watching me in open lust and desire sending me an almost endless supply of heat to my being.
I was laughing before I knew it, exalting as the announcer spoke, ignoring the slight dig at me as he spoke.
"And we have fresh meat for THE BUTCHER!!!" The crowd screams!
"And what a treat we have here folks!" The words only inciting the crowd even more. I glance over to a corner, seeing the man who led me here giving me a shrug. His lips moving and I didn't need to be a lip reader to understand him, "You asked for this."
An airhorn blew as the butcher laughed. I bolted forward, careful to keep it at something feasible. The crowd screams as the butchers' eyes widen at my speed. He swings his cleaver to try and cut me down as I move forward, only to miss as I stop short. Bloodied sand spraying out from my sudden stop.
I didn't want to get hit, that was my goal. He was slow but restricting my speed as much as I was made it, hard. What followed was, frankly embarrassing. I was used to flying around and being landbound found me moving around like a drunk.
My tail and enhanced balance were the only reason I hadn't fallen on my ass, but as I struggled, I felt something click. My feet grew surer in real time. Until I was dancing between his strikes, the moment I felt I got all I could from the man's frenzied blows did I move. I moved forward, gripping his forearm, pulling him in like we were about to dance.
Sadly, it wasn't that benign as I twisted around a wild swing of his cleaver, and I smashed into his arm holding the hook with a kick to the elbow. The sound of snapping bone was so crisp and clear, that even over the noise the audience heard it. And screamed!!! The sound echoed as the moment replayed on various monitors loudly. The butchers' screams the spice as I spun around and under, twisting the now broken arm and with a smash of my elbow and using it as leverage I pull and snap off the forearm.
The executioner screams in agony as I turn around with his bloody limb and proceed to beat his face in, when He falls, I smash his knee and remove it, before doing it again and again. The crowd was cheering for me as I grabbed his hook and ripped into him, the crowd roaring in approval as I show my bloody prize. I finish him with his cleaver as he goes near catatonic from the pain and shock. The crowd cheering as I show off the head, my primal urges rearing as I yelled to the sky showing my dominance, my power!
The announcer looked lost for a moment, his eyes shooting to that familiar corner as I saw the man who let me in looking at me with a new look. He shows me a fist, followed by a neck slash, and crossed arms? Fight don't kill? He even mouths it to be sure, I don't reply, instead I make it look like I hadn't been staring at him as I run a circle around the arena showing off my head, the crowd cheering like I had run a circuit. I grinned and looked at the announcer, miming to throw it.
He looks briefly flushed and shakes his head. Spoilsport… I chuck it at the side. A cleaning crew rushed into the arena to pull away the corpse and weapons. I couldn't hear the announcer, my heart beating in my ears as I soaked in the noise. The sound of grinding metal brought the crowd to silence, I took my place opposite the entry way. The wasteland guy enters, gives me a look his face pale.
"And we have a familiar face!" I didn't catch his name as he whips out some chains, wrapping them around his fists, sweat and fear oozing out of him.
"FIGHT!" An airhorn blows. We both move, rushing into each other. I decide if I should take the hit, the punch… His stance was good, should I go for not getting hit? Mm… A glancing blow then? I twist, just enough for the blow to hit, but not a straight blow. I hear a cracking noise, almost too quiet… Ah, oops… The man's eyes widen in pain, right, I may be a little too solid for hits. I follow up with a series of punches and kicks, nothing too hard, but not so much as to make it obvious I'm sandbagging. He goes down pretty quickly. The injuries he sustained were minor at best.
The crowd cheers as he goes down, but not nearly as loud when I butchered the butcher. I take the moment to stretch. I wasn't likely to pull something, normally, but I had a hunch he'd make me perform. And I was looking to please. The crowds' noise increased as I showed just how flexible I was, I even found myself stretching slower in accordance with the rising voices. I mean, it was only right that I show off this perfection that is my body. Isn't that right?
I was showing off and the crowd seemed pleased by it. And the more I could show them just how beneath me they were the more I was apt to do. Interrupting the session was the sound of grinding metal. My eyes glancing up in a corner, the person who led me in miming me to create a spectacle a show.
I grinned, my now limbered body ready for the show as a muscular fellow stepped in, dual katana in hand.
"THE DICER!!!"
He raised his blades, his face covered in a mask, only his face visible. His outfit tight, showing off his rippling frame. We faced each other. The crowd grew hushed as we watched each other. A heaviness descended on the crowd as we took each other's measure. Sure, I could paste him easily. His swords unlikely to even cut me, but This was my stage. And I had a crowd to perform for.
Seconds passed as the silence and anticipation grew, the dicer slowly lowering his weapons. A crackle, the telltale sign of a mic turning on echoed.
"When I was called down here to defend our rings honor, when I was told that someone had butchered The Butcher, beaten one of our regular participants, I wasn't sure what to expect… In some ways I expected a monster, but what I see before me confuses me. At first, I thought you were a human girl, but your tail tells me you might be a simian…"
Was, he insulting me? I had to think about that.
"So instead, I ask, why do you fight in this ring? And just what are you?"
I could feel the eyes lock onto me, the whispers. I heard the flutter of drones as they shot out and surrounded me with lights and cameras. Recording me, showing my image across every screen. I stood tall, my arms crossed, eyes shut. My tail swaying, just so… A moment of introspection to take in the moment, to let it drag before I speak.
"I am, a Saiyan." I started, relishing the words as I spoke to them. The crowd whispering in hushes quiet voices all too loud in the quiet ring all asking the same question, what is a Saiyan?
"It is not unusual for our name to be unknown. We are a warrior species. Our single greatest pursuit in life is to grow stronger. To gain power for a singular purpose, something told to all Saiyan children before they are abandoned and sent to hostile worlds to grow. To grow stronger, to gain strength, because it is only the strong that can achieve what it is they truly desire! Only through strength can you achieve our people's greatest dream!
And so, I come here, to this ring for one purpose…"
Just one purpose. My desires, my wish, my drive… An errant whistle breaks out as I open my mouth, adding to the atmosphere.
"To seek Recognition through the only means I have. To have the strength I have gained, the power I have earned be recognized after I have reached the apex of many hostile worlds. To be recognized and have my name known. Because what I want is for my name to be spoken of, for it to be on the lips of all who see me, for my name to resonate through the whole of the universe!
For, I… AM… Rettas, THE SUPER SAIYAN!!!"
Well, I wasn't a super Saiyan yet, but I will be. The crowd didn't care. They cried out, they cheered, the sound was so great for an instant I swore I lost all ability to hear. The ring shook as people cheered. The whistles and crowd growing as I take up my stance. Growing quiet, for a single moment.
"And that is why I fight!"
And with those words, we started. We both smashed into each other, or at least that's how it appeared. He was still too slow for my eyes, but the way he wielded his blades was mesmerizing in a way. It took all I had to position myself right as he swung, moving my limbs and body in such a way that the blade grazed by.
Sometimes the blade would glide just along my skin, not touching but so close it made the audience fear for me. Those were the good steps; the bad steps saw locks of hair sheared or my clothing nicked as we continued our deadly dance. My feet moved like one of those dancing games, dodging and swerving, ever aware of our position as I pretended like the blades before me were actually a threat.
The way I moved grew more fluid, my errors less and less, even finding easily exploitable gaps for me to move in. Steadily I pushed him back. Dodging swings with the barest margin, moving inward more and more. Pushing him more and more. The crowd held their breath, as if a single mistimed breath would see me cut in half by the blades.
On the outside I must have looked like a leaf in a blender. The blades moving faster and faster, yet I somehow come out near unscathed each time. I could almost hear the chairs creak as the audience craned forward. The sound of bets being slammed down as people gaped. Me and Dicer's eyes met, a single shared moment as his body moved, lunging into a double swing. Opening his chest for the barest of moments, presenting a target.
I danced, weaving through the strike right into him, almost sticking to him as I smashed my fist into his kidney, if he had kidneys. Of course, I held back tremendously, but still the man didn't falter. I shuffled back as I reared his blade, I swerved intending to let the blade skip by once more by the smallest of margins. I miss-stepped. My feet fumbled for an instant.
The dicers eyes widened, but he was committed. I salvaged it as best as I could, letting the tip carve along my skin, barely even cutting past the first layer of skin, leaving a small line of red. I could see his wide eyes, the confusion. I committed, with a swipe I widened the wound, almost invisible, a mere swipe like I was checking it. Blood gushes, spraying out in a spray.
The crowd stilled. I wiped at the blood with my fingers and, as if contemplating the wound. I licked at the blood and swallowed.
"Just a flesh wound." I said with a grin. The crowd lost it, the two of us once more dashing into each other, my wound already clotting and healing as the flesh reknit in real-time before all the onlookers' astonished gazes. A dazzling array of blades flashing my body more and more in sync with our dance. I made sure I looked soaked in sweat, tired, determined. I was driven not to make a fool out of myself as I pushed and pushed.
The climax came quick and fast. It was an echo, not nearly enough to truly get me excited, but I could feel the pulse of the crowd quicken, the scent of the final clash, the final desperate move from my dance partner. His blades raised and crossed right at the pivotal moment.
"SLICE AND DICE!" He yelled, his blades moving faster, his body moving faster. I danced, and I moved. I pulled on the only martial art I sorta, kinda, maybe knew. The questionable monkey-fu that instinct told me about. I moved, flowing around the blades, bending and twisting, my tail whipping out.
It slapped into his leg a whip crack, he faltered, his body slowing just a bit as an opening made itself known. I slipped in and slammed into his chest and before he could recover, I wrapped my tail around his leg and bodily flipped him in the air, throwing him away from me and the sandy floor, one of his blades went flying as he rolled at the last instant.
The two of us panted, he struggled up as the crowd roared for one more clash, an encore of sorts. He stood as if the cheers gave him strength, he wobbled a little, lifted his mask and spit some blood out to my confusion. I knew I hadn't hit him that hard, but on closer inspection I note the punk bit his tongue. He stood at the ready, gripping his katana with two hands, facing me like a true warrior standing to defend his honor.
A final clash, a final smash. I charged; he raised his blade. I wasn't sure what to expect, but when he launched forward, his blade threatening to crash down. Well, it was almost too easy not to abuse. I twisted and mid dash I slammed my leg into him, or more like lightly tapped him, but his inertia, plus my leg definitely caused cracked if not broken limbs as he was punted off my leg to the side.
The crowd stood, shaking the cage walls screaming and crying, whistles echoing out. Only to once more still as the swordsman struggled to his knees. The sound of a mic cutting on.
"Your strength is truly worthy of recognition, Rettas, The Super Saiyan. I surrender."
The crowd began to cheer my name, or more like my title.
"The Super Saiyan!" Over and over and over. Their words washing over me as I soaked it in, my eyes falling on the fallen warrior. Truthfully, if I wasn't on stage, I'd just leave him alone. Just walk away and be done with it. But it was showtime! The crowd froze once more as I stepped forward, eyes watching, wondering, only to break out into an almost foaming mad frenzy as I extended a hand to the kneeling warrior.
"A fine fight." I lie through my teeth as naturally as I breathe. The man's eyes sparkle, our hands meet, grasping as I pull him to his feet. Together we make our way to the exit. The support staff at the ready to treat any and all injuries.
We step in, the swordsman is immediately unclothed save for his underwear. A swarm of support staff and medics worked him over with bandages and tools. The show over I turn to leave and find the man who let me in, only to find him walking down the hall towards me.