Before you read this chapter, I have something to say. There are a lot of people complaining that I use ai, or that ai use is getting blatant. Yes I do use ai, I use it to edit the chapters after I write it in French and then it translates it. I have not denied the fact that I use it. I must also tell you that I am not a pushover, if you write a review and it has no relation to wether the fiction is good written or bad written with an argument behind I'm going to delete it. I do not owe you anything and vice versa, if you're not happy, you can leave. I'm writing this fiction for free and I'm sacrificing my time to do this, and I will not let you get in the way of my fun.
--
I hit the ground sliding.
The mud of Planet Meat was thick, grey, and slick as oil. It killed my momentum instantly, bringing me to a halt ten meters from where Ruca was fighting for her life.
She was surrounded.
They wielded dual energy blades that hummed with that distinct, violet static. Ruca was holding her own, her movements a blur of parries and deflections, but she was boxing a shadow she couldn't hit. She was backed against a jagged outcropping of volcanic rock, her armor scored with glowing burns, her breath coming in ragged gasps.
One Elite lunged, its blades scissoring toward her neck. Ruca caught the strike on her forearm guard, the impact buckling her knees. The second Elite moved to flank her, raising a heavy mace.
She was dead in two seconds.
"Not today," I hissed.
I didn't charge in screaming. I sprinted low, almost on all fours, keeping my Ki signature suppressed. I needed them to think I was debris until it was too late.
I reached the perimeter of the fight. The flanking Elite was focused entirely on Ruca.
I didn't aim for the alien. I aimed for the ground between its feet.
I gathered a dense, superheated ball of Ki in my palm.
"Flash."
I drove the energy blast directly into the muck.
KA-HISSS!
The reaction was instantaneous. The superheated Ki vaporized the water content in the sludge instantly. A geyser of scalding steam and boiling mud erupted upward with the force of a bomb.
The Elite roared, blinded by the white hot fog, stumbling back as the superheated mud plastered its sensory slits.
"Switch!" I screamed, my voice cutting through the roar of battle.
Ruca didn't hesitate. She didn't look to see who it was; she just reacted to the opening. She dropped low, sweeping the legs of the Elite in front of her, then launched herself over its falling body to engage the blinded one I had just distracted.
That left the third one. The one with the mace.
It turned toward me, its vertical eye-slit narrowing. It chattered something in its wet, clicking language and swung the mace.
It was slow. Strong, yes, probably a power level of 1,200 but slow.
I didn't dodge backward. I stepped in.
I moved inside the arc of the swing, feeling the wind of the weapon ruffle my hair. I was chest-to-chest with the giant.
"Your armor has a flaw," I whispered.
I had analyzed them during the initial skirmish. Their plating was heavy on the chest and shoulders, but the joints, the armpits, the knees, the neck, were covered in a flexible, ribbed mesh to allow movement.
I reinforced my right hand with Ki. I didn't form a blast; I hardened the Ki around my fingers into a lance. It wasn't a Ki blade, but it could still do the job.
I drove my hand upward, directly into the soft mesh under the alien's armpit.
My fingers tore through the fabric and sank deep into the wet flesh underneath. I felt ribs snap. I felt the pulse of an artery.
I grabbed whatever organ I touched and squeezed.
The Elite stiffened. It let out a high pitched, tea-kettle shriek.
I ripped my hand free, bringing a spray of grey fluid with it.
The giant toppled backward, twitching, then went still.
I spun around, ready to engage the next one.
It was already over.
Ruca stood over the other two corpses.
She stood there, chest heaving, purple blood dripping from her armor. She looked wild.
She looked at me. Then at the dead giant at my feet.
"Steam," she panted, wiping her forehead. "You blinded them with mud."
"Dirty fight," I said, shaking the grey slime off my hand. "Dirty tactics."
Ruca stared at me. For a moment, the adrenaline masked everything else, and I saw a flash of genuine respect in her eyes. It wasn't the patronizing amusement of the palace. It was the look one soldier gives another when they realize they aren't babysitting anymore.
"Good kill," she said.
We stood back-to-back for a second, surveying the battlefield. The rain was falling harder now, washing the blood into the mud.
"Don't get comfortable," I warned, checking my Scouter. "The main force is—"
BOOM.
A shockwave nearly knocked us off our feet.
Fifty meters away, a building-sized chunk of rock disintegrated into dust.
Nappa landed in the center of the crater.
He looked like a demon. His armor was cracked, his cape was shredded, and he was covered in so much green and grey gore that he looked like he had been dipped in paint. Zuto and Toma landed beside him, cackling like hyenas.
"Clear!" Nappa roared, flexing his muscles and scattering the dust. "This area is secure! Boring, but secure!"
He looked over at us. He saw the three dead Elites. He saw Ruca catching her breath.
Then he looked at me.
I was caked in grey mud from head to toe. I looked less like a Saiyan warrior and more like a swamp creature.
Zuto sneered, stepping forward. He kicked the corpse of the Elite I had killed.
"Look at that," Zuto laughed, pointing his knife at me. "The pet survived. But look at him. He's filthy."
He walked up to me, wrinkling his nose.
"You spend the whole fight crawling on your belly, Runt?" Zuto mocked. "Did you hide in a hole until the bad men went away?"
Toma snorted, taking a swig from her flask. "The rat is slippery, Zuto. He rolls in the mud so the enemy can't grab him. He rolls in the mud so he doesn't have to bleed."
They laughed. To them, my appearance was proof of cowardice. A "real" Saiyan stood tall and took the hits. A "real" Saiyan came back covered in the enemy's blood, not the planet's filth.
I didn't correct them.
"Survival is messy, sir," I said, keeping my head down.
"Pathetic," Nappa grunted. "But at least you're not dead. That saves me the paperwork."
He tapped his Scouter. The playfulness vanished from his face, replaced by the hungry look of a shark smelling chum.
"Cut the chatter," Nappa ordered. "The smoke is clearing. And my readings are spiking."
We all turned to the north.
The heavy, oily smoke that had obscured the valley began to lift, carried away by the storm winds.
The landscape revealed itself.
It wasn't a valley. It was a staging ground.
Stretching from our position to the horizon was a sea of red.
Thousands. Tens of thousands.
The Meatan army wasn't a disorganized militia. It was a legion. Rows upon rows of soldiers stood in formation, their spears glinting under the lightning. Tanks the size of city blocks hovered in the rear.
"That's..." Ruca whispered, stepping closer to me. "That's a lot of bugs."
"Millions," I corrected, my Scouter scrolling numbers so fast the screen blurred. "Mostly low level. Fifty to one hundred. Swarm tactics."
"Trash," Nappa scoffed. "I can wipe out a thousand of them with a sneeze."
"Look behind them," I said, my voice tight.
Behind the ocean of fodder, near the massive obsidian fortress in the distance, the Elite signatures were gathered. Hundreds of them. Power levels ranging from 1,000 to 2,500.
But in the dead center, sitting on a throne floating above the army, was a single, massive signature.
It flared like a supernova on my sensor.
My Scouter beeped a warning.
7,000.
"Seven thousand," Toma whispered, lowering her flask. She wasn't laughing anymore. "That's... that's almost double Nappa."
It was the Meatan Warlord. Even from this distance, I could feel his pressure. He was huge, easily twice the size of the Elites, clad in golden armor that pulsed with violet energy.
This was the catastrophe. This was the trap.
King Vegeta had sent a 4,000 PL commander to fight a 7,000 PL Warlord, backed by an infinite army.
"He's going to kill us," Zuto said, his voice losing its edge. "We need to call for backup."
Nappa stared at the Warlord.
For a second, I thought he might be rational. I thought he might order a tactical retreat, regroup, and call for bombardment.
Then, Nappa's shoulders started to shake.
A low rumble started in his chest.
"Heh... hehe..."
It grew into a roar.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Nappa threw his head back and laughed at the storm. He laughed at the army. He laughed at the certain death waiting for us.
"Seven thousand!" Nappa shouted, his aura exploding around him in a white column of fire. "Finally! A real fight! I'm going to rip his head off and wear it as a helmet!"
He turned to us, his eyes manic.
"Zuto! Toma! You take the left flank! Burn the swarm! Clear a path!"
"Ruca! Runt! Take the right! Don't let them flank me!"
"I'm going up the middle!"
"But Commander!" Zuto argued. "He's—"
"HE'S MINE!" Nappa roared, silencing him. "Move out! If you die, you die! But if you run, I kill you myself!"
He didn't wait. Nappa launched himself into the air, screaming a war cry, flying straight toward the Warlord. Other saiyan warriors Joined him from behind. Maybe he wasn't going to die.
"Still insane," I whispered.
"Move!" Ruca shouted, grabbing my shoulder. "We have to move or we get trampled!"
The Meatan army roared. The sound was deafening.
The tide began to roll forward.
We ran.
--
The next four hours were a blur of repetition and gore.
It wasn't a battle anymore. It was manual labor. The work of killing.
I lost track of how many Meatans I killed.
My movements became automatic. Dodge the spear. Snap the knee. Blast the face. Move.
The rain turned the battlefield into a slurry of mud and fluids. I was soaked, freezing, and exhausted. My Ki reserves, which I had carefully managed, were draining fast. Every blast, even the small ones, took a toll.
I was fighting on the right flank, separated from Ruca by a wall of bodies. I could see her energy signature flashing nearby, sharp and efficient, but I couldn't reach her.
"Too many," I gasped, ducking under a mace that shattered the rock behind me.
I needed space.
I backflipped onto a pile of debris, gaining the high ground.
Below me, a fresh wave of twenty Meatans was clambering up the ridge. They were mindless, driven by the Warlord's command to drown us in bodies.
"I need crowd control," I muttered.
I couldn't use a beam. Beams were straight lines. I needed something that could corner.
I remembered the failed attempts. The explosions in my face. I had managed an acceptable level but it was still not enough.
"Sokidan," I whispered. "Don't force it. Guide it."
I raised my right hand, palm up.
I visualized the ball not as a solid rock, but as a gyroscope. Spinning. Stable.
"Spirit Ball!"
Ki gathered in my palm. It was yellow, crackling with instability. It wobbled.
"Hold it," I gritted out, sweat stinging my eyes.
I threw it.
The ball shot forward. It hit the first Meatan in the chest, punching a hole straight through him.
Usually, a blast would dissipate after impact.
I twisted my wrist.
Turn.
The ball obeyed. It jerked to the left, exiting the first corpse and slamming into the second.
It was sluggish. It was hard to control. My brain ached with the effort of maintaining the link.
Right. Through. Loop.
The Spirit Ball zigzagged through the cluster of enemies. It wasn't the graceful, high-speed dance Yamcha performed. It was ugly. It smashed bones rather than piercing them. It wobbled and sparked.
But it worked.
Six Meatans fell in rapid succession.
The ball flickered and died, dissolving into sparks.
I dropped my hand, panting. My head throbbed.
"Efficient," I noted, wiping blood from my lip. "Messy, but efficient."
I was about to drop back down when I saw them.
In the valley below, separated from the main skirmish, were two Saiyans.
They weren't Nappa's squad. They were Low Class stragglers, likely survivors from a previous wave or another squad dropped in the wrong zone. They wore battered armor, and one of them was missing an arm.
They were back-to-back, surrounded by a ring of Elite Lancers.
They were fighting bravely, screaming defiance, but they were running on fumes. Their movements were slow. Their blasts were weak.
One Lancer lunged, driving a spear through the thigh of the one-armed Saiyan. He went down.
The second Saiyan tried to cover him, but two more Lancers moved in for the kill.
I watched from the ridge.
Logic dictated I leave them. They were dead weight. Saving them cost energy. Saving them risked exposing my position. They meant nothing to me.
I turned away.
Then I stopped.
I looked at the one-armed Saiyan trying to stand up, snarling at the aliens.
"Dammit," I hissed.
I wasn't as selfish as I thought. And I hated that.
I raised my hand again. My headache spiked.
"Spirit Ball!"
I summoned another sphere. This one was smaller, denser. I didn't have much left in the tank.
I threw it.
The ball screamed through the air.
It slammed into the back of the first Lancer just as he raised his spear. Spine shattered.
I flicked my fingers.
The ball shot up, then drove down into the skull of the second Lancer.
Curve. Hit.
The ball ricocheted, hitting the third Lancer in the knee, blowing the leg off.
The ball detonated.
The circle was broken.
The two Saiyans didn't waste the moment. The standing one roared, grabbing the fallen Lancer's spear and impaling the last enemy. He grabbed his fallen comrade and dragged him back toward the cover of a rock formation.
I stood on the ridge, watching them.
The standing Saiyan looked up at me. His face was a mask of blood and grime. He saw me standing there, my hand still smoking.
He didn't smile. He didn't wave.
He just gave a single, curt nod.
It was the acknowledgement of a warrior. I see you. You did your job.
Then he turned, slung his comrade over his shoulder, and vanished into the smoke to find the next fight.
"You're welcome," I whispered sarcastically.
I felt a pang of exhaustion so deep it felt like it was in my marrow.
I checked my surroundings.
Nappa was still fighting the Warlord. His energy was decreasing. He was taking damage.
Ruca was holding the line.
And the army... the army was endless.
"Round two," I muttered, jumping down from the ridge back into the mud.
The grind wasn't over. It was just beginning.
--
The twin suns of Planet Meat finally surrendered to the horizon, plunging the battlefield into a suffocating, bruised twilight. The only light came from the sporadic flashes of Ki blasts in the distance.
I was alone.
I was separated from the main skirmish by a ravine of jagged rock. The constant roar of the battle had faded to a dull throb in my ears, matched only by the pounding of my own heart.
I leaned against a scorched boulder, sliding down until I hit the mud.
My left arm was numb. A lucky strike from a spearman had deadened the nerve. My armor was cracked across the chest. My Ki reserves felt like a dry well; scraping the bottom only brought up dust.
I closed my eyes for a second. Just a second. I needed to center myself. I needed to stop the world from spinning.
I didn't sense him.
I was too tired. My mental radar, usually sharp enough to pick up a fly, was dulled by four hours of slaughter.
The first warning I got was the displacement of air.
A massive foot slammed into the ground inches from my head.
My eyes snapped open.
Standing over me was a monster.
He was a Meatan, but he dwarfed the ones I had been killing. He stood eight feet tall, clad in heavy, ornate violet armor that looked like overlapping beetle shells. His clay-red skin was scarred, and his face... his face had three vertical eye slits glowing with malevolent yellow light.
A Lieutenant.
He looked down at me, a small, mud-covered creature huddled in the dirt.
He didn't attack immediately. He laughed.
It was a wet, gurgling sound deep in his chest.
"Tiny," the Lieutenant rumbled in the clicking Meatan tongue. "The sky demons send children now?"
He raised a massive, jagged war-hammer. He didn't even charge it with energy. He just let gravity do the work, swinging it down casually, like he was crushing a bug.
I moved on pure adrenaline.
I rolled to the right.
CRACK.
The hammer hit the boulder I had been leaning against. The stone didn't just break; it exploded. Shards of rock peppered my armor like shrapnel. The shockwave lifted me off the ground and threw me five meters into the mud.
I scrambled to my feet, gasping.
He was nearly as strong as Nappa.
The Lieutenant pulled his hammer from the rubble. He looked at me, tilting his head.
"Fast child," he noted. "But breakable."
He charged.
This wasn't the slow, lumbering attack of the grunts. He moved with terrifying speed for his size. He was on me in a heartbeat.
I couldn't hide my power anymore. If I stayed suppressed, if I tried to play the "lucky dodge" game, I would be paste in five seconds.
"Gate open!" I screamed internally.
I dropped the suppression. I flared everything I had left. My aura exploded, a ragged white flame around my body.
I pushed my output to the absolute limit. I was beyond 100% of my power.
It wasn't enough.
The Lieutenant swung the hammer horizontally.
I ducked. The wind pressure alone cracked the shoulder plate of my armor.
I drove a Ki infused fist into his stomach. It was a solid hit, my knuckles reinforced to the breaking point.
Thud.
It felt like punching a tank. The Lieutenant didn't even flinch. He just looked down at my fist buried in his abs.
"Weak," he spat.
He backhanded me.
It wasn't even a full strike. Just a flick of his massive arm.
It hit me like a freight train.
My ribs snapped. I heard them go.
I flew backward, crashing through a dead Meatan tree and landing in a heap of tangled roots.
I coughed, and blood splattered onto the inside of my visor. My right eye was swelling shut instantly.
"Get up," I hissed at my legs. "Get up or die."
The Lieutenant walked toward me. He was taking his time. He was enjoying this.
"Is this the power of the invaders?" he taunted. "Pathetic."
I staggered to my feet. My vision was swimming.
I needed a cheat. I needed a blind spot.
I raised my hands to my face.
"Solar Flare!"
I dumped a massive chunk of my remaining Ki into the flash.
FZZZT-FLASH!
The blinding white light exploded outward, illuminating the dark ravine like a miniature sun.
The Lieutenant roared, covering his three eyes.
"NOW!"
I sprinted. I didn't run away. I ran at him.
I leaped into the air, aiming a kick at his throat.
But the Lieutenant didn't freeze. He swung the hammer blindly.
WHAM.
The handle of the weapon caught me in the chest. It knocked the air out of me and sent me spinning into the mud.
"My eyes see heat!" the Lieutenant laughed, blinking tears from his glowing slits. "Light does not blind me, child!"
He could see thermal signatures. Of course. They lived in volcanic smog.
I was on my back. He was standing over me.
He raised the hammer high. This was the execution stroke.
"Sokidan!" I screamed.
I formed the Spirit Ball in my right hand and threw it from the ground. It struck him in the face.
POW.
His head snapped back. He stumbled one step.
But he didn't fall. He just shook his head, looking annoyed. He reached up and swatted the Spirit Ball away like a fly. The ball dissipated into sparks.
"Enough tricks," he growled.
He reached down and grabbed me by the throat.
His hand was big enough to wrap entirely around my neck. He lifted me off the ground effortlessly. My feet kicked uselessly at the air.
He squeezed.
My vision went black at the edges. My windpipe was being crushed.
"Die, invader," he whispered, bringing his face close to mine.
I couldn't breathe. I couldn't speak. I couldn't form a beam.
But my hands were free.
I clawed at his wrist, uselessly.
Think. Think.
I couldn't throw a Kienzan. I couldn't summon one in my hand, he would crush my throat before I could swing it.
I focused on the space behind him. Just do it. I poured the last dregs of my Ki, my life force, into the air behind his head.
Spin.
A yellow glow appeared in the darkness.
Spin faster.
The hum began. Vvvvvvrt.
The Lieutenant heard it. His ears twitched. He started to turn his head.
"Too late," I choked out.
I flicked my finger forward.
The Kienzan flew.
It screamed toward the back of his neck.
The Lieutenant sensed the danger. He was fast. He released my throat and twisted his body to the side, trying to dodge.
He was going to make it. He was going to slip past the blade.
Then, a blur of motion erupted from the shadows.
Ruca.
She was battered, bleeding, and exhausted, but she hit him like a missile. She didn't strike him; she tackled him. She wrapped her arms around his waist and drove her shoulder into his gut, holding him in place for a fraction of a second.
"Do it!" she screamed.
The Lieutenant roared, trying to throw her off.
But the fraction of a second was enough.
The Kienzan connected.
SHINK.
It sliced through his armor. Through his spine. Through his chest.
It exited out the front, missing Ruca by inches, and flew into the night sky before fading away. The Lieutenant went rigid. His three eyes went wide. He looked down at his chest.
His top half slowly slid backward.
He collapsed.
Ruca rolled away, panting, covered in his violet blood.
I fell to my knees in the mud, gasping for air, clutching my crushed throat. Every breath was agony.
"You..." I wheezed, looking at Ruca. "You came back."
Ruca pushed herself up to a sitting position. She looked terrible. Her armor was gone on one side, and her arm hung limp.
"You were taking too long," she rasped, spitting blood. "I got bored waiting."
I tried to laugh, but it came out as a cough.
She saved me. Who made it so hard for me to hate her?
"Thanks," I whispered.
"Don't get sentimental," she muttered, checking her arm. "We're not done."
She pointed to the north.
A massive column of fire erupted into the sky.
Nappa.
The explosion cleared the smoke for miles.
In the center of the blast zone, Nappa stood atop a mountain of corpses. He was holding something in his hand. The severed head of the Warlord.
"VICTORY!" Nappa roared, his voice amplified by his immense energy. "THE LEADER IS DEAD!"
Cheers erupted from the surviving Saiyans scattered across the battlefield. Zuto and Toma were screaming in triumph.
But the cheering died out quickly.
Because the Meatans didn't stop.
The millions of soldiers didn't break. They didn't run. Without their leader, they went feral.
They shrieked, a collective sound of madness. They surged forward, a tidal wave of red bodies.
"They're not retreating," Ruca whispered, her eyes wide. "They're berserk."
Nappa looked down at the horde. Even he looked tired. His chest was heaving. His armor was gone. He dropped the Warlord's head.
"Persistent bugs," Nappa growled.
He looked around. His squad was battered. The other Saiyans were running on fumes. If the horde hit us now, we would be drowned in bodies.
Nappa looked up at the sky.
The thick smoke clouds, disturbed by the Warlord's death explosion, began to part.
Revealing the moon.
It was full. A pale, sickly yellow orb hanging low in the purple sky.
Nappa grinned. It was the grin of a monster who had just found a bigger weapon.
"Squad!" Nappa bellowed. "Look up!"
He raised his hand, pointing at the moon.
"BURST OPEN AND MIX!"
My heart stopped.
I knew the words. I knew the mechanics.
The Oozaru transformation. I hadn't tried that once.
"No," I whispered.
"Look up, Cress!" Ruca shouted, grabbing my shoulder with her good hand. "It's the only way! We need the power to clear them!"
"I can't!" I panicked. "I can't control it!"
"Nobody controls it perfectly the first time!" she yelled over the roar of the incoming army. "Just aim for the enemy!"
Nappa was already changing. His muscles bulged, tearing his remaining bodysuit. His snout elongated. Fur sprouted from his skin.
Zuto and Toma were looking up, their eyes glowing red.
The Meatans were five hundred meters away. A wall of death.
If I didn't transform, I died. I was out of Ki. I was broken.
If I looked...
I looked at Ruca. She was already turning, her teeth growing into fangs.
"Survival," I whispered. "At any cost."
I looked up.
I stared directly at the full moon.
The reaction was instantaneous.
Thump-thump.
My heart beat so hard it hurt.
A red haze flooded my vision. The logic, the human consciousness... it began to dissolve. It was replaced by a roaring, primal hunger.
My body began to stretch. My bones cracked and reshaped.
"GRAAAH!"
The scream tore from my throat, but it deepened into a roar. The world shrank. The pain vanished.
There was no Cress. There was only the Ape. And the Ape wanted to break something.
--
Monkey go kaboom-boom.
Quite a long chapter. Did you feel that it was too fast paced? To be honest, I didn't want to waste time on this planet meat arc so next chapter, it will be finished.