The Power of Changelings

Tehran’he was fuming to herself. She needed to become a more powerful changeling, but she had learned all she possibly could by fighting and self-teaching. Now, she needed to transform. She had heard of a transforming teacher through rumor, but he was said to be in the farthest reaches of Frieza, and only took those who truly proved themselves worthy. Puffing out her chest, she walked off south, headed for the teacher known only as Unda.

As she got farther south, the snow grew deeper and the air colder and drier. The wind was harsh, and there was no shelter anywhere. Tehran’he spent the next two weeks sleeping on the ice, living off whatever animals could survive these arctic conditions before finding a cave to spend the night in.

The next morning, she got out of the cave to see that something had changed. Nothing obvious was new or different, but there was an air… something had happened. Something was now here, that hadn’t been the night before. Tehran’he called out, “Unda! Show yourself!”

A voice that seemed to pervade from the very air itself spoke in a deep, commanding voice, ancient and powerful. “Who calls me from my eternal sleep?” A thunderous sound was heard somewhere to Tehran-he’s right, and a hurricane blew towards her, at speeds of nearly 100 miles per hour. She realized that Unda was somehow controlling the hurricane, and to stop it, she needed to do or say something.

Tehran’he figured that like all masters, he’d want humility from students, so she got on one knee, hating herself heartily, and muttering, “A changeling hoping for you to teach her the methods of transformation.”

As if on cue, the hurricane instantly dissipated, and the voice now seemed calmer, more relaxed. “Good. I see I will have to teach you discipline, but the fact you did this means you are willing to try. We will begin training tomorrow.”

What?! Tomorrow? Why on Frieza… I show up at dawn! I have to wait an entire day more in this Godforsaken land and why? To teach me discipline? I think Unda’s the one who needs to calm down, throwing hurricanes at random people who show up…

But even Tehran’he knew that Unda was only testing her, so she simply nodded and said quietly, “As you wish, master.” She was determined not to let him get the better of her.

But just as she was about to leave, Unda spoke one more time. “You know my name, but I know not yours. Would you indulge me?”

A pause. Then: “Tehran’he.” With that, she spun on her heel and went back to the cave she had spent the night in, focusing and practicing her fighting skills throughout the morning, and spending the evening sitting as still as possible, trying to meditate. As the light left the area, she went to sleep, in the hopes of becoming a true changeling in the morning.

The next morning, she went to the same spot as the previous day, and called out, “Unda?” There was a long silence as the words echoed around the area. Finally, when Tehran’he felt about ready to leave, Unda spoke: “Sit. Clear your mind of all but my voice.”

Tehran’he sat, but didn’t clear her mind. Instead, she continued to badmouth ‘Unda,’ mentally. How dare he talk to me like this? Like he’s the most powerful being in the universe. I ought to take him down and force him to show me how to transform!

Unda paused for a long time, apparently, giving her the space to empty her thoughts. After a minute or so, he said, “Search your mind. Let all your energy focus into one focal point. Most changelings choose the tail, but choose the most comfortable for you.”

Tehran’he’s eyebrow rose interestedly. This was getting interesting. She tried to focus her energy, but it kept slipping from her grasp. Tehran’he felt as weak as a newborn. She had never been this unable to channel energy! Then again, she mused, she had always been focused on harming the person with her preferred weapon: herself.

Perhaps Unda’s not a crackpot after all… But Unda then said, “Now force it all out through your chosen vessel; let it flow around you, pulsing, changing you. You won’t see this aura, but I promise you will feel it.” Tehran’he now looked foolish. As Unda’s voice boomed through the tundra, nothing happened. Tehran’he stood there awkwardly, not changing.

But she hadn’t given up. She was still attempting to push it out through her claws; it just wasn’t responding. Finally, Unda spoke. “Stop. I can tell you did not listen to me. Leave my presence. We will continue again tomorrow morning at dawn. For your homework… practice clearing your mind.”

Tehran’he, losing patience, shouted, “Who even are you, anyway? I’ve never even seen you. I asked you to show yourself to me yesterday, and I still have not been obliged. What student doesn’t meet her master?”

The wind whistled sharply through the tundra, causing even Tehran’he to shiver. “You have seen me,” he answered, voice as cold as the wind that just shot through. “My name is Unda. Have you not learned your historical languages?” He did not wait for an answer. “Impertinence. And yet you blame me for your failures…” Immediately after, something left. It was nothing specific; something just wasn’t there anymore. Realizing Unda had left, the changeling followed suit, going to her cave, stamping furiously into the ground.

She reached the cave and sat in a corner, trying to clear her mind. But all that ran through her was a blind fury at her master. Getting to her feet, she clawed the walls viciously, leaving deep gauges in it. After several minutes, she felt calmer, and sat down, attempting to clear her mind. Amazingly, it worked this time.

Satisfied, she waited for the next morning, hoping to blow Unda away with her amazing recovery.

The next day, Tehran’he stepped boldly out of the cave, to hear a booming voice come forth. “Are you ready?” the voice called. Tehran’he raised an eyebrow. He had no idea…

“Yes, Master, I am ready. And I intend to transform today!” She left the entrance of her home to stand in the desert of snow, awaiting instructions.

“Do you have a focal point ready?” Tehran’he gave her assent, and Unda’s voice rang out. “The send all your Ki to that point. Feel the power full to bursting within your point, and let it fly from your body.”

Tehran’he pushed. She felt her claws grow heavy with all the power in her claws. It felt as though she could destroy worlds with all this untapped potential. Not knowing what to do with it, she went the only way she could: out.

All the energy flew out of Tehran’he. Unda, seeing something go wrong, called, “Quick, trap it near your body! Let it change you, let it transform you!”

But it was too far-gone. The energy left, and Tehran’he was wheezing, on her hands and knees from such an exertion of Ki energy. She sat there, too tired to speak, as Unda disappointedly exclaimed, “I suppose I should have warned you how difficult it is to maintain. I apologize. You will need time to rest up. Come back when you are ready, and remember this. Let it be a lesson of humility to you. No one is perfect. We must all start somewhere, and grow from there.”

Tehran’he sidled over to her cave, saddened, but also revived with pleasure. She had been quite close to realizing her true self. In fact, she fantasized her aura of being pure gold, which was rumored to be the rarest of all. In fact, her Ki, when released, was a deep crimson color, but it was too difficult for her to ever see and know.

The young changeling sat in the cave all night long, excitement at soon becoming more powerful, and didn’t get a wink of sleep. But somehow, her energy was regained, and the next morning, she left the door with renewed vigor and hope.


Tehran’he once again had barely stepped out the door when the voice with no body called out to her. “We will start immediately. Sit down.” Tehran’he sat on the snow, now too eager to get this over with to try and deny him. “Call all your Ki forth into your weapon of choice now. Let it stay at the edge of the skin, tingling. Do you feel the power yet?”

Tehran’he felt the power, all right. It felt like slamming her claws against solid wall; excruciatingly painful. She wanted so bad to let go, and let the pain disappear, hopefully to change her to a new changeling. So focused was she on not letting the energy escape her tips, she simply nodded, lips pressed together in concentration.

“Now, remember, once you let it go, reach out with your consciousness and stick it to yourself. Wrap it around your body like a self-made blanket. You will feel a burning sensation. But no matter what happens, don’t try and run. Embrace the pain, for it is your blessing, and your curse. You will know when it is complete, for the burning feeling will leave you. You may feel different; that is merely your differing size and proportion.”

There was no response, only recognition in her eyes.

Unda nodded, and spoke, in a tone of finality. “Now do as I told you and let the power fly.” Tehran’he gave up restraining this wild animal, and let it run, immediately calling it back. It seemed to work. Tehran’he felt she was being suffocated for a moment, but the feeling soon passed, to be replaced with one of falling in molten lava.

Tehran’he could only remember thinking one thing afterwards. Arrrrgggggghhhhh! After a time that felt like an eternity, everything stopped. Tehran’he opened her eyes tentatively, feeling oddly off-balance. She looked down, to see if something was wrong, to see she was now taller than before. It had worked! “Thank you, Unda, thank you-.” She stopped. Something was different. Something had left the air, leaving it oddly colder than before.

Her master was gone.

Tehran’he shrugged, not quite caring either way where he had went. It mattered not, for she could now transform! Skipping a bit, she left off into the swirling fog and wind. The instant she did so, however, she realized just how starving she really was. As Tehran’he thought back on it, she hadn’t eaten for days, but had somehow never felt hungry.

Pondering on that fact, she pulled out the last of her reserves: a few lengths of jerky from the last animal she had killed on the way to Unda. Nibbling on it gratefully, she felt strength return to her limbs, and walked with less of a stumble and trip.

The way back was long and perilous as she recalled, lasting a whole fortnight of travel. She only had enough provisions for the day. After that…well, she just hoped she hadn’t killed all the animals heading down this path.

A bit of fear within herself now, Tehran’he walked cautiously, thankful for her now longer limbs, and the fact the wind was blowing from behind her, propelling her footstep easily. Even so, it most likely wouldn’t be enough.

An hour later, she was cursing her existence. Not looking where she was going in her misery, Tehran’he tripped over a stone and face planted into the ground. After a moment, she got up to see…

Somehow, she had fallen back to her previous home. Rubbing the dirt off her cheeks where snow had been moments ago, she looked in wonder at her cave. A voice came to her mentally that made her smile ruefully. I figured you may have needed some help getting back. Remember what I taught you, for someday, you may also need to teach a cheeky changeling, and will need to show patience.

Lying down on the floor, she considered his words, until sleep took her. When she would awake, she would have returned to her normal state. But it didn’t matter. She had found her true image.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Duck, dodge, weave. She punched, kicked, hit and anything else she could think of, at her two attackers. They dodged her moves seamlessly, and threw their own attacks at her that she dodged, less than perfectly. Soon, it became like a dance to her, and she let her mind wander. She thought about what she was doing here on Frieza, her home world.

There were plenty of things she could think of. For one, she had never completed her training with Lord Frost, and to come back and complete it would signify that she was one of the top fighters to emerge from Frieza, a fact she capitalized on, but as of yet had no proof for.

Another thing she could say was that she was here to let loose her inner demon. She was still too tactical, too hesitant, and too… weak. Frieza was the number one place in the galaxy that she could go to become more ferocious of a fighter. And it seemed to be working, for she was acting instinctively now, but at the same time, using combinations that saved her life over and over again.

A third reason still could be for hired help. Much as Tehran’he hated to admit it, she would need help later on down the line. And Frieza, once again, was the only place in the galaxy that housed the Headhunter’s Guild, THE place to go for a hit man.

Put all of that together, and it was no wonder she went to Frieza; it would have been beyond stupid not to, especially since she doubted she’d see Frieza for months after this recon visit. But deep down, Tehran’he knew that she wasn’t getting stronger, and that bothered her. She had asked Frost once to teach her the Third Form, but he had flat out refused.

“To learn the Third Form for the first time takes pure, absolute bloodlust, and that is something that I’d rather you didn’t do in my palace. Much as that would pleasure me, I do, as leader of Frieza, have people checking up on me. If they see you… in that form, they may have doubts. And there are people that I need to stay allies with.”

Tehran’he put her arms down, beat. She had spent the entire day practicing, more than half of which in her transformation. But no matter how hard she tried, and she tried hard, she couldn’t seem to get that rapid growth of Ki it took to reach the fated Third Form. Perhaps that was part of the reason she came to Frieza, she mused. To return to the place where she had done it the first time. She quickly powered down, feeling herself shrink and her Power Level deplete to its normal range.

Seeing the questioning look in her two partners’ – Dane’s and Android 19’s – eyes, she simply said, “I’ll be awhile.” And with that, she flew off, feeling the rush of wind in her ears drown out any possible response they could have given her. Smiling freely, she poured on the speed, flying as fast as she could, watching the lands below her blur into a wonderfully nostalgic wave of icy blue, broken only by the rare city or forest.

After a long time, she found herself in a vaguely familiar spot. It took several minutes to realize it, but she had flown to the area where she had learned her first transformation. Quickly shooting towards the ground, the changeling spotted two obvious differences. For one, the wind that had been such a close friend to her on her first journey was no longer whistling its lonely tune.

The second thing was that the wind seemed to have been replaced with a small cottage. Seeing smoke come out of it, Tehran’he realized that someone lived there. Shuffling towards the house silently, she hoped she could catch her master unawares. Perhaps she could force him to teach her the Third Changeling Form. Pushing open the cracked door, she saw a surprising sight: a small changeling was staring at her – glaring, more like – and was puffing a cigar.

That explains the smoke, she thought. But before she could introduce herself, the squat lizard said, “No.”

Tehran’he opened her mouth again, to ask no what, when he cut her off. “Are you deaf? I said no.”

“But I don’t think you-”

“Oh, I know perfectly well why you’re here. You were his finest student, aye? Unda, I mean.” Smiling at the remark, Tehran’he allowed him to continue. “I knew you’d come eventually. He told me all about you; ‘stubborn, and powerful,’ I said? ‘She’ll be back.’ And here you are…”

Tehran’he frowned. Something was off about him. “So where is Unda, then?” she asked tentatively.

“Dead,” the man said casually. “I’m Clarior, by the way.” He held out his hand to shake. Instead of taking it, the changeling coolly examined him.

“How did he die?” she asked, voice deliberately mellow, as though this were an offhand, throw about question with no real basis in anything.

“I killed him. I have the power to do that and all, being his brother, and whatnot. He needed to get knocked down off his pedestal. Kept banging about some Third Form, but never would show me. In the end, we dueled. Obviously, the winner lived to tell of it.”

Tehran’he took a deep breath. In her mind, she vowed to kill Clarior for what he did to Unda. But for the moment, she needed to learn from him, gain his trust, and pretend to admire him. “Impressive,” she finally spat out. “I… mean,” she quickly backpedaled at his raised eyebrow, “That I did admire Unda, but anyone who could kill such a powerful changeling has my eternal devotion. I beg you to teach me the ways of fighting Unda did not.”

Clarior liked the treatment, and made that painfully apparent. “Eternal devotion, eh?” he grinned viciously. “Alright, but first, I need you to do some chores for me.” And in a way that was nearly symmetrical to the ways of Roshi, he asked Tehran’he to go grab some things that he needed, several that he didn’t, and told her to come back by a certain time.

Growling to herself, she shot off in the direction she had been told to, hating herself for not just blowing up that house with her Electro Eclipse Bomb. But she knew, deep down, that that would do nothing to fill her hate for Clarior. She wanted to watch the look on his face when he died, not shirk away from a fight and hit him with his back turned. Unda wouldn’t like it that way.

Several hours later, she returned, laden with groceries, to the changeling Clarior’s home. Handing him the items, she spoke. “May we start training now master?” she asked in a buttery voice. Clarior thought deeply, rubbing his stomach while he did so. After a wait of perhaps thirty seconds or more, he said, “I will train you. But tomorrow, and you will have to pass a test. We will fight at dawn. If you can injure me in any way, be it a cut, bruise, or severed limb, I will train you. However,” he continued, a grin growing on his face, “If you fail this test, I will kill you, and bury you next to Unda.”

Tehran’he nodded tersely. “Are we agreed then?” she asked.

“We are agreed. The time is set, the stakes are clear; I will see you in the morning, my pupil.”

The changeling shuddered, but managed a proper good bye, before flying back to camp. Without saying a word of her travels to either Android 19 or Saint Dane, she lay down to sleep, knowing she would have a fitful, if at all, rest.

Sure enough, long before the dawn let it’s tendrils crawl across the horizon of Frieza, attempting and failing, as always, to warm the planet, Tehran’he was already flying to Clarior’s home, considering the perfect ways to take him down for good. After that, she would search for someone else who could teach her the Third Form.

With that happy thought in mind, Tehran’he pulled up at Clarior’s home and knocked on the door just as the Sun began to inch across the sky. The door opened immediately, and a blast of pure auric energy welcomed Tehran’he. Being blasted backwards, she hit the ground hard, several feet from the hole in the wall where the door used to be.

Standing over her was Clarior, dressed in full changeling armor and with a wicked sword strapped to his waist. “Ready, changeling?” he called out, smirking easily. Clearly, he was certain of his own victory. When that hit Tehran’he, she instantly realized, neither of them had believed the other. This was an obvious fight to the death. Knowing that made her rage pop out of nowhere, filling her with righteous anger and strength.

Powering up to full strength, she threw herself at the changeling, instantly going to a close-in grapple. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she blew flames at his body. While he tried to pry her loose, flinching and trying to avoid the searing heat of her fire, Tehran’he had her tail snake around his neck, pulling as tight as she could.

For a moment, he struggled, clearly losing steam. For a moment, the changeling wondered if the fight could really end so quickly, before she suddenly let go, crying out in pain. Somehow, he had managed to pull out his blade and had cut the changeling with it. Glaring at the blade that now dripped purple blood, she held her arms out and muttered, “Flash Bomb.”

Instantly, what sounded like machine gunfire as she recalled from her time on Earth, flew out at Clarior, Ki bullets bristling with dark electricity, almost leaping for joy at attempted destruction. And they did horrific damage. Sadly, the majority of it hit the home, as after a moment of confusion, Clarior simply held out his blade to block any Ki coming his way. And he was fast, too, catching nearly everyone that would have hit him.

Tehran’he quickly stopped the attack to save energy. Clarior, seeing his advantage, said, “Watch this.” As he grew larger, more powerful, Tehran’he felt his Power Level quickly rise to near 20,000. He was in the Third Form! Shocked, the changeling herself powered up, first to her Second Form, then to Zanzoken for the speed. Flying forward, she and Clarior threw several punches, back and forth, neither really wearing the other down, but rather, checking their style.

This little bout lasted for several minutes. Tehran’he, deciding she would try to end this, held out one hand, held on to her wrist with the other, and called, “Bakurikamaha.” A sense of foreboding seemed to precede the actual attack. Clarior hesitated, not sure how to react. The blast of Ki that was let loose pushed Tehran’he back. She couldn’t even see what happened to Clarior. After several seconds, the attack faded, and Tehran’he stared into the gloom.

The smoke cleared, and there was a large hole in the home, but no Clarior. Unsure how to take that, she continued forward. About a foot from the home she stopped, feeling a flicker of power from above her. Glancing up, she saw Clarior high above her, charging up an attack.

Bellowing loud enough for Tehran’he to hear, he exclaimed his attack: “Fusion Ball!” A deep blood red ball of energy shot out at the changeling on the ground. Quickly, she let loose a blaze of fire that rained upon the ball, slowly forcing it to a stop. Holding the Fusion Ball cupped in her flames, she let it melt into the fire’s energy.

Roaring with fury, Clarior shot downward, pulling out his sword. “Rough Divide,” he violently spat out. A near invisible line of air flew downward on the changeling. Fearful of the attack slicing her in half, she whispered, “Tri-Form,” and suddenly three Tehran’he‘s were all in the fight, none of which were in the path of the strike. Slamming into the ground forcefully, it caused a divide upon the battlefield, for the landscape was forever ruined.

Tehran’he was frozen for a moment, in pure surprise, as she stared at the ruined home, the holes and ruts in the ground, the giant slice in the ice… She didn’t even notice as her two doppelgangers slipped back into herself. But she did notice when she was suddenly grabbed from behind, a sword at her throat.

“Finally,” Clarior said hoarsely. “I’ve bested the great Tehran’he. Supposedly the best. I see Unda was mistaken.” The thought of her old master sent a wave of fire to roll through her, causing her Ki to flare up around her. Jumping back in alarm, Clarior had cut Tehran’he’s neck, making it bleed slightly. Growling, she sprang forward. Pulling out her own blade, she went in for a battle of swords with Clarior. Back and forth the pair went, clashing and slashing, flying higher into the air as they did.

“You… can’t stop me!” Clarior called between strikes. Tehran’he, rather than respond, forced him back by slashing even more violently. He had trouble keeping up with her speed, but the changeling knew it couldn’t last. Even then, she felt her Zanzoken finally wearing off. It had served her well, lasting an unbelievably long time in battle. It was nearly noon.

As the speed slowed down, Tehran’he tried to press her advantage one last time by feinting to the right. As she hadn’t feinted any attack throughout the day, Clarior wasn’t even expecting it to be fake, and the changeling sliced as hard as she could against hi ne-

CLANG!

Just barely, using his now far superior speed, he had stopped the blade from hitting his neck. Barely an inch away! Tehran’he thought. She pushed harder, hoping that Clarior’s own blade would taste his blood merely from being so close. But, try as she might, the blade slowly pushed away from his neck, though Tehran’he saw a flash of fear cross his face from her getting so close.

Feeling a rush of adrenaline and pure hope, she slashed with renewed vigor. Of course, it wasn’t any faster than it was before, and Clarior still stayed relatively unhurt, he still noticed that she seemed to have gotten her spark back. Realizing that there was a very good chance he might die, Clarior backed off, and slipped his blade into the sheath.

“We’ll get back to that later,” he promised, “But let’s see more of your actual Ki attacks. I felt a suppressed energy there.” In reality, he had, in fact felt her nearing her Third Form when he had pulled out the sword. He wondered how much closer he could get her. After all, even if he did kill her, that would be something to remember.

“My first pupil learned the Third Form in under a day through my teachings.” Yes he could see himself saying that, and being the personal trainer that rivaled Lord Frost himself. Grinning at the thought, he opened the palm of his hand and let loose one of his most powerful techniques: “Ion Beam.” A pure, crystallized blue beam shot from his hand, flying towards the changeling. Quickly, she teleported to the right of it, just barely evading the strike.

Less than a second later, a sound that resembled a sonic boom reverberated around the area, before the very skies shook with the power behind the strike. Dirt and ice rose as high as a thousand feet in the air, lowering visibility to the point of zero. Trying to feel her way around for a while, she eventually gave up and did a mild Fire Breath attack to melt the ice and burn the dirt in the air. Soon enough, she could see enough to tell what had happened.

She wished she hadn’t.

Where the Ion Beam had hit, a small crater about fifty feet in diameter had erected. As a quick guess, she’d say it went perhaps 10 feet in. Looking around, she tried to find Clarior. Holding out both her index fingers, she shot a quick Mesposo from each one, relying heavily upon the fact it had never missed its mark yet, even when she couldn’t see the mark.

Sure enough, she felt, more than heard, the movement to the right where Clarior had began to rub the sore spot from the Mesposo. Quietly inching forward, she decided to try things a little street. Grabbing him under his arms, she then pushed upward and put her hands behind his head, a move she called, a ‘Nelson’ position. Pushing his head down caused more and more pressure on his arms, that are being pushed up, until the other either escaped, which is unlikely, or gave.

Naturally, Tehran’he won’t allow him to escape or stop the fight. She simply forced his head down as hard as she could, reveling in the banshee scream he let loose. Instead of stopping, she put a large amount of pressure on one arm, hoping to snap it. However, she misunderstood the workings of the body.

Instead of snapping his arm, she dislocated his shoulder, which in some cases is easier, or harder. The cracking sound that was the changeling forcing the shoulder right back into place was almost unearthly. But she showed no mercy. In fact, if given the chance, she would have done nothing but dislocate and relocate his shoulder until the tendons wore down and he lost the use of his arm altogether.

As it was, she was nowhere near strong enough to hold him down that long. So she opened her mouth and let a blast of Ki slam the back of his head, straight on, and then let go quickly, backing off. Almost simultaneously, they held their hands out, charging. Both somehow knew that the fight would end in the next couple of minutes.

“This fight is over, you know,” Clarior gleefully exclaimed. “There’s no way on Frieza you have a move that can stop my…” he waited, letting the Ki ball in his finger charge, “DEATH BALL!” The ball shot outward an amazing amount at the words, and he let it loose.

Tehran’he, at the same time, had been charging her final attack, and when he called ‘death ball,’ she muttered, “Electro Eclipse Bomb.” The two dark entities flew at each other in a circuitous way. The attacks combined were so powerful that, instead of hit each other immediately; they actually got caught in each other’s gravity, giving the users several moments to escape.

Sadly, neither was fast enough to stop the blast. The aftereffects alone were enough to literally tear a hole in the atmosphere that has to this day done nothing but suck unwary travelers into space.

Tehran’he was slammed into the ground so hard; she made a crater to rival the Ion Beam she saw. Getting to her feet slowly, she realized that she was puffed up from the slam into the ground. But surprisingly, she didn’t hurt nearly as much as she thought she would. And, her horns… where did her horns go? Glancing down, she realized that she had grown an unbelievable amount.

She thought about what could have happened. Either her bloodlust peaked, causing her to transform while crash-landing, or the blast itself simply had enough residual Ki energy to jumpstart the transformation system. Either way, her strength was now greatly increased. Stalking forward, she grabbed Clarior.

“Where is Unda?” she called, holding a Beam Ball against his skin.

“Dead.”

“His grave, dumbass!” she let the Ball burn a little of his skin to show her anger. Wincing, he muttered something about, ‘the right of the house.’ Glancing in that direction, she saw some markings and a gravestone. Satisfied, she got rid of the Beam Ball – by pushing it into his chest. The explosion caused him to have cardiac arrest, and his heart beat grew hugely irregular. Tehran’he left him there. He was as good as dead, with nobody within twenty miles of this place, and him with four minutes of life.

Stooping down by the grave, Tehran’he bowed her head, and began to speak. “Master… I apologize for the way I acted under your training. You were wise, and I was foolish. If I.. had the chance to do it over, I would treat you with the deference and respect you so truly deserve.” Touching the gravestone for a quick moment, she got to her feet and began briskly walking away.

“TEHRAN’HE.”

Hesitating, the changeling turned. A small circle of what appeared to be cloud, showed Unda smiling down on her. “Thank you for the kind words. I apologize that you had to meet… my brother,” he broke off, for a moment, lost in thought. “But I am glad that you grew stronger because of it. You will go far, my pupil. I know it.”

Smiling for the first time in years, she said, “Really?”

“I know it. Now go, and become stronger. For soon you will attain the Legendary Fourth Form. It has been decided. I have seen it.”

“Fourth Form?! There’s another?” Tehran’he was reeling. She thought she had just attained the best.

“Do not worry,” he said. ”Your time will come…” he faded, and the cloud disappeared. Boiling with emotions, Tehran’he looked for the closest thing to take it out on. Seeing Clarior still alive, rage fueled her to point her hand at him and hauntingly say, “Kienzan.” A small, golden circle of Ki flew at him, where it quickly sliced him in two. He lay still.

Sighing, she felt at peace, and flew across the plains towards Saint Dane and Android 19. When they saw her new form, they’d recognize her, finally, as one with worth. And she would shove it in their faces for months. Especially Dane’s, that arrogant bastard.

With that thought in mind, she flew up into the skies, and took off for them, still in her Third Form, simply because it felt good. It felt right.



Word Count: 5771

250,000 ki pl and zeni with 50