POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Post by Callion on Jul 8, 2024 17:53:52 GMT
Callion
Powerlevel: 3,115
Location: Vegeta; Lower Class Region - Oozaru Wastelands
The harsh landscape of the Oozaru Wastelands stretched endlessly under the crimson sky of Planet Vegeta. This desolate region, named after the great ape form of the Saiyans, was known for its unforgiving terrain and treacherous conditions. The air was thick with the scent of scorched earth and metallic tang, a constant reminder of past battles fought and the raw power that lurked within every Saiyan. Here, in the Lower Class Regions, only the toughest survived, using the wastelands as their training ground to hone their skills and prove their worth.
Callion stood atop a jagged outcrop, his tall figure silhouetted against the red sun that hung low on the horizon. His lion-like mane of hair whipped in the wind, and his long tail wrapped securely around his waist. At 26 years old, he was a seasoned warrior, his body sculpted from years of relentless training and countless battles. The weight of his martial arts gi, battered and worn from use, was a comforting presence, a symbol of his dedication and the discipline instilled in him by his training.
He gazed out over the wastelands, his keen eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. This was a place where the weak were quickly weeded out, and Callion had no intention of becoming one of them. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the hot, arid air, and let it out slowly. It was time to push his limits once again. With a sudden burst of energy, Callion leaped from the outcrop, landing lightly on the cracked ground below. The impact sent a cloud of dust swirling around him, but he paid it no mind. He dropped into a fighting stance, his muscles coiled and ready. The training here was brutal, but it was necessary. In the wastelands, he could train without restraint, unleashing his full power without fear of causing undue harm.
He began with a series of basic katas, each movement precise and deliberate. His fists and feet moved in a blur, striking invisible opponents with practiced ease. Despite the simplicity of the exercises, Callion executed them with unwavering focus. Every strike, every block, was an opportunity to perfect his form, to ensure that his body and mind were in complete harmony.
The wind howled around him, carrying with it the faint echoes of distant roars and the occasional rumble of the ground. The wastelands were alive with the presence of Oozaru, the great apes that Saiyans transformed into under the full moon. Callion had faced them before, and their immense power had taught him valuable lessons in combat and control. He could feel their latent energy in the air, a reminder of the primal force that lay within him as well.
After completing his warm-up, Callion moved on to more advanced techniques. He began to incorporate his signature moves, the ones that had been honed through countless battles. With a swift, fluid motion, he unleashed a flurry of Karate Strikes, each blow delivering maximum power while minimizing wasted movement. His fists struck the air with such force that the shockwaves created visible distortions in the air around him. Next, he transitioned into his Martial Combat technique. This was where his true strength shone. Callion's movements became a blur of power and precision, his body a weapon of unparalleled efficiency. He moved with the grace of a dancer and the ferocity of a beast, every motion designed to incapacitate an opponent swiftly and decisively. The ground beneath him cracked with the force of his strikes, and the air hummed with the energy of his ki.
Despite the intensity of his training, Callion remained in complete control. He had learned to harness his aggression, to channel it into his combat without letting it consume him. This was a lesson hard-won, a testament to his growth as a warrior. The wastelands had been his crucible, and he had emerged stronger for it.
As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the wastelands, Callion paused to catch his breath. His chest heaved with exertion, and sweat glistened on his brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, his gaze never leaving the horizon. There was always more to learn, more to achieve. The path of a Saiyan warrior was one of endless challenges, and Callion was determined to face them all head-on.
With a final deep breath, he resumed his training, pushing himself to new heights. The wastelands echoed with the sounds of his strikes and the occasional roar of defiance. Callion was a warrior through and through, and here, in the harshest of environments, he continued to forge his destiny with every punch and every kick.
The Oozaru Wastelands echoed with the rhythmic sounds of Callion's training. His movements were swift and powerful, each strike carrying the weight of years of discipline and determination. The sun continued its descent, casting long shadows across the cracked earth as day turned into dusk. Callion remained focused, his senses sharp and attuned to the subtle shifts in the environment. As he executed a flawless series of Karate Strikes, a faint rustling caught his attention. Callion's ears twitched imperceptibly, his instincts sharpening. He paused briefly, glancing around the barren landscape. There was no one in sight, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.
With a silent curse at his own paranoia, Callion resumed his training. His mind raced through the possibilities. The Lower Class Regions were rarely frequented by Saiyans outside of those who sought solitude for their own training. But the rustling had been distinct, not the usual background noise of the wastelands.
Ignoring the unease gnawing at the edges of his consciousness, Callion delved deeper into his Martial Combat technique. His movements became more fluid, more instinctual. The air crackled with the energy of his ki as he unleashed a devastating series of strikes.
Another rustle, closer this time. Callion's brow furrowed in annoyance. He had no time for distractions, especially ones that disrupted his focus during training. His tail flicked restlessly behind him, a testament to his growing irritation. But still, he didn't sense any hostile intent. Whatever—or whoever—was nearby seemed content to observe rather than confront. The thought did little to ease Callion's wariness. Saiyan pride demanded that he investigate, confront the intruder head-on.
With a swift motion, Callion launched himself into a spinning kick, his senses on high alert. The move was executed with such precision that the air whistled around his leg. The impact reverberated through the ground, sending a small cloud of dust billowing into the air.
Silence followed. The wastelands seemed to hold its breath, awaiting Callion's next move. He remained poised, muscles tensed and ready for any sign of movement. His eyes scanned the shadows, searching for the source of the disturbance.
Word Count: 1,140 |
|
POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Post by Salada on Jul 8, 2024 22:28:43 GMT
PL: 2674
Salada didn't often go out into the Oozaru wastes. Why should she? The great creatures that roamed these barren wastelands had been slain long ago for their meat or for sport, leaving nothing but dead, rolling hills and flat, featureless landscape for miles. ...Perhaps it was because she was bored. Killing Saibamen only had as much appeal as they had tricks to throw at you. Sure, the beasts might be crafty, what with their feral intelligence and crafty team-strategies... But a saibaman's intelligence could only go so far and their pack mentality was only as good as their opponent was weak, as was their design. They were bottom-feeders, a clean-up crew, doing jobs REAL Saiyans couldn't be bothered to do. Gladiatorial fodder was one of these professions and Salada already had her fill killing them down to the root.
...Coming out here was just as boring and purposeless as she imagined. Nothing but the howling of air and the occasional tumbleweed touched Salada's senses as she walked across the land. Honestly, she didn't know what she expected to happen when she came out here anyway. What, was a challenge going to miraculously stumble upon her? Was she going to find a beast worthy of slaying stomping about? Bah. She mused about going back into the city and dragging one of the up-and-coming nobles out here. At least out here there was nothing worth protecting so they could go all out. ...Bah. She'd likely kill the fool on accident and be reprimanded for her trouble. It seemed, at times, the arrogance of her fellow noble did not stand equally with their power, thinking themselves invincible before their first fight. Noble bloodlines seemed to be weakening, in Salada's view, birthing forth haughtier and weaker spawn fit only for the lower class...
...Yes, the lower classes... Middle Class Saiyans at least had their dignity. They could command armies or smaller platoons, give orders and actually have standing to do so. She had met one in some event held by the king. What was his name...? Sprite...? Root...? Something like that. They hadn't said much to one another. Didn't need to. it was obvious in the way he held himself, his (admittedly large) chin held high, his eyes intense and focused as if scanning the room for... unwanted guests. He was a man of principle, of strength, and would no doubt be made a noble soon. Salada would be one of the ones who would welcome him into their ranks. Who knows? Maybe the taste for bureaucracy wouldn't take and he'd whip those noble-spawn into shape.
...Then there were the lower-class. Barely more intelligent than saibamen and were lucky to be as powerful. Anyone with any sense looked down upon these Saiyans as the worst of the worst among them because, obviously, they WERE! Right down to the moment of their birth, they gave every indication of being failures. More low-class died on any mission of note than the rest of them, either being too cocky if they possessed a scrap of power, too cowardly, in which case they were shot dead rightly by their superiors, or killed simply due to outright weakness. Blood measured in tubs were spilled from those lineages and, in Salada's mind, this was as correct and as matter-of-fact as death: Low class are a disgrace... and deserved nothing but the consequences they bring upon themselves.
It would just so happen that Salada would ACTUALLY come across one of those THINGS out of their den, practicing some... unusual combat moves. The Saiyan-ess couldn't help but stop and stare, more confused why he was punching at the air like that when there were fresh bodies to destroy back in the city. If he wanted a fight, there were plenty of his ilk to strike down. After all, Low Class breed quickly. Only way to keep their numbers up, it seemed. Indeed, this man just continued to more-or-less-flail in slow-motion, taking pauses between some, and moving rapidly while preforming others.
"...What ridiculousness is this?" Salada scoffed, walking towards the man and making her presence known. "Have you gone mad out here? What are you striking at?"
WC: 695
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Post by Callion on Jul 9, 2024 9:24:27 GMT
Callion’s muscles rippled beneath his sweat-soaked training suit, each precise movement a testament to years of disciplined practice. The solitude of the Oozaru Wastelands was his sanctuary, a place where he could hone his skills without interruption. But that sanctuary was shattered when a sharp, scoffing voice pierced the air.
He paused mid-strike, his sharp senses already alerting him to the presence of another Saiyan before she even spoke. Slowly, Callion turned to face the intruder, his piercing eyes meeting those of Salada. He took in her appearance, noting the disdainful curl of her lips and the haughty tilt of her chin. A noble, no doubt, and one who clearly believed she had the right to question his actions.
"What ridiculousness is this?" she repeated, her tone dripping with contempt. "Have you gone mad out here? What are you striking at?"
Callion straightened up, his expression calm but firm. “I’m not mad,” he replied evenly. “I’m training. Enhancing my techniques, perfecting my form. It’s called discipline.” He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his gaze never leaving hers. “Out here, away from the distractions and the noise, I can focus. Every movement, every breath, is a step towards becoming stronger.”
He could see the disdain in her eyes, the way she looked down upon him, whilst he currently had training gear that made him LOOK a lower-class Saiyan, as if he were no better than the dirt beneath their feet – the reality was that Callion was born and raised as an Elite Class Saiyan Warrior just like her. As such, and to be expected, Callion wasn’t one to be easily intimidated or disheartened. He had faced far greater challenges than the scorn of a fellow noble, that was to be sure.
“So now what? Still here?” he asked, his tone respectful but curious. “Seeking a challenge, or just looking for someone to belittle?” He gestured around the desolate landscape. “If you’re here to fight and challenge me, then proceed to do so and not waste my time.” Callion spoke in a firm tone of his voice, his mind was entranced, tuned to training away from the other Elite-Class Saiyans that he was able to think more clearly, especially out here in the wilderness as life intended.
Callion’s eyes remained locked on the female Saiyan, his mind working quickly to assess her. She had an air of arrogance about her, typical of like-minded, fellow elites who looked down on the lower classes. Her stance was confident, almost too confident, as if she expected everyone around her to cower in her presence. But Callion wasn’t one to back down. No true elite can back down from another.
He noted her physique—strong and well-trained, but not overly bulky. She must clearly move with the grace of someone who had seen many battles, her could see such muscles taut and ready for action. Her green scouter, a standard piece of equipment for the elites, rested on her ear, constantly feeding her information. Callion’s own scouter, the very equipment of over the years of usage, looked very much like a relic for a low-class status, and not for an Elite-class that he is. It was clear enough that, such ideas of getting a new scouter had long since been discarded, and not crossed his mind – afterall, why fix if it is not broken. He preferred to rely on his instincts and senses, honing them to a razor’s edge through relentless training.
Her armor was pristine, another sign of her status. The polished metal gleamed in the harsh wasteland sun, a stark contrast to his own battle-worn gear. Callion’s armor bore the marks of countless skirmishes, each scar a testament to his resilience and determination. He wore his scars with pride, a reminder of the battles he had fought and survived.
As he analysed her, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance. The elites, like himself often dismissed the lower classes as weak and insignificant, yet it was the lower classes who bore the brunt of the battles, who fought and died on the front lines. Callion, an exception of the a-typical Elite Class, had seen many of his comrades fall, but he had also seen their strength, their unyielding spirit. This elite, whoever she was, had likely never experienced the true hardships of a lower-class warrior – and who could blame her? The Elite Class, like Salada and Callion rarely ever handle difficulties. Though to Callion’s eyes, he’d assume that she had probably been pampered and protected, her path paved with privilege – Of course, that was just an assumption. But out here, in the Oozaru Wastelands, none of that mattered. It was a place where strength and skill reigned supreme, where titles and status were stripped away, and Callion being an Elite Class himself, loved such an idea, of going back to such esoteric, primordial roots.
Callion’s gaze hardened as he continued to scrutinize her. She was strong, yes, but strength alone wasn’t enough. It was the heart, the will to fight and survive, that truly defined a warrior. And in that regard, Callion knew he was more than a match for any elite. With a final, assessing glance, he took a deep breath, centring himself. Whatever this encounter might bring, he was ready. He would not be intimidated or dissuaded from his path. He was a Saiyan warrior, and he would prove his worth, no matter who stood before him.
Callion's gaze remained steady as he took a step closer to the elite Saiyan warrior. The disdain in her eyes was evident, but he wasn't about to let that affect him. He had faced scorn and derision before, and it only served to strengthen his resolve.
"I could honestly ask the same about you," Callion said, his voice calm but carrying a hint of challenge. "Why are you here? Shouldn't you be training in the Central Stadium with the other elites?" He let the question hang in the air, his eyes never leaving hers. The Central Stadium was a place reserved for the upper echelons of Saiyan society, a place where they could hone their skills under the watchful eyes of their peers and instructors. It was a place of prestige and honor, far removed from the desolate, barren expanse of the Oozaru Wastelands.
The contrast between their current surroundings and the luxury of the Central Stadium was stark. The wastelands were harsh and unforgiving, a true test of a warrior's mettle. Callion preferred it that way. It stripped away the pretenses, the titles, and the privileges, leaving only the raw essence of combat and survival. He allowed a faint smile to touch his lips, a small, almost imperceptible gesture. "Out here, it's just you and the land," he continued. "No spectators, no distractions. It's where a Saiyan can truly test their limits."
Callion's attire, worn and battered from countless battles, concealed his true status. He looked like any other lower-class warrior, blending in with the rugged terrain of the wastelands. But beneath the surface, he was every bit the elite warrior she was, if not more so. His training and experiences had forged him into a formidable fighter, one who thrived in the harshest of environments.
He folded his arms across his chest, his posture relaxed but alert. "So, what's your reason for being here?" he asked, his tone inquisitive but carrying an edge. "Looking for a challenge, or just trying to prove something to yourself?"
Word Count: 1,247
Total Word Count: 2,387
|
|
POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Post by Salada on Jul 9, 2024 22:50:03 GMT
Salada scoffed at his explanation.
"Training? By doing... this?" She gestured with a hand to encompass the man and his past actions. "Is that what you low-class do for training: Punch the air? What is your kind good for if not to fight?" 'Away from distractions... What was he, some kind of monk? They were supposed to be WARRIORS! Strength was found in the shedding of blood, the taking of lives! STRENGTH was achieved in battle, not by... striking out at something that didn't exist! ...One would think that was self-evident. It was down to their very DNA. Their BLOOD called them to fight! Every fiber of a Saiyan's life steered them down the road of conflict... yet the best this man could muster was to flail about in a dead land out in the middle of nowhere with nothing to give explanation-wise expect for "I wanted to be alone."
...It smelled of weakness to her. Weakness, and lies.
Believe it or not, Salada wasn't especially social either! Most Saiyans weren't, by nature! After all, what was the good of being a social species when you could very well DIE tomorrow as the result of a great and glorious battle? It wasn't so much that she disbelieved that he was wanting some alone-time... but she didn't buy that TRAINING was his primary reason for being out here. It was a Saiyan's duty to be strong. There were always enemies to kill, wars to fight, and weakness was never an option. Strength was to be extracted from others via combat, to be tested, honed, and sharpened on the mettle of another. This whole... thing he was doing, it seemed more like an excuse to her to not do his duty and maybe he had come out here enough times to believe it.
What a laugh.
"So defensive." Salada laughed as the man proposed to tell HER what to do. "I find it quite amusing how you low-class think yourselves in any position to question your betters. Tell you what... Why don't you MAKE ME LEAVE?" ...And the staring contest began. Salada and Callion locked eyes for what seemed like an hour, occasionally drifting away only to observe the other person more closely, take more detailed notes of just who they were dealing with. While Callion wore what amounted to heavily battle-scarred, battered and ravaged armor, the sign of a reckless fighter with an inability to purchase more... effective defenses, Salada wore up-to-date elite battle armor, polished and in top condition, all by her own hand, of course. Salada took pride her armor, saw it as a symbol of her status, much as her strength was. Instead of handing it over to an armor-smith on the occasion it was damaged or scuffed, Salada took it upon herself to learn the craft, to improve her armor personally as her own strength grew, a means of further solidifying her pride in herself by relying on NOBODY but herself. Where Callion's body was riddled with healed wounds, scars that told the story of multiple battles, Salada's flesh was flawless, serene, even. Salada had always been considered "beautiful," her genes giving her a fair face and a playful disposition, but never once did she rely on her looks to get by. Her white gloves, were stained with the blood of many Saiyans and countless aliens, her war-record displaying JUST what she was capable of!
While Callion wore who he was on his back, a rugged, battle-worn thing that was hard to look it in general, Salada instead projected an air of dominance through elegance, silent power... until the call of battle roared too loudly.
...After a good chunk of time of the two locking eyes, lightning practically CRACKLING between them, the long-haired (male) Saiyan would once more challenge Salada, demanding WHY she was still here. The Elite merely crossed her arms over her head and smirked. She said nothing. ...Another minute passed and Calliion would reassert that he was out here because there were no distractions and THAT'S why he was out here: because fighting NOTHING somehow brought out his potential!
....More silence.
FOR THE THIRD TIME, Callion would ask WHY she was here and Salada burst out laughing. It was a harsh, but genuinely amused-sounding thing, like a demon chortling as the soul it was poking finally squealed.
"I don't have ANYTHING to prove to you, low-born trash." Salada scoffed, brushing a bit of hair out of her face. "...But maybe I'm curious if you're as strong as you are... bold." She walked RIGHT up to the man, tilted her head up, and smirked at him, the two Saiyans standing less than a toe's-length apart, Salada's eyes locking with Callion's, daring him to take this to the next level. Of course, Salada coooould start this on her own terms... but half the fun of being who she was WAS needling her lessers. In this case, that was only 30% of her motivation.
WC: 827 TWC: 1522
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Post by Callion on Jul 10, 2024 7:36:28 GMT
Callion's gaze hardened as Salada's words cut through the silence of the wasteland. Her scorn and arrogance were palpable, and while he had grown accustomed to the disdain of his fellow high and Elite class kin, there was something particularly grating about her demeanour. It was not just the insult she hurled at him, but the way she dismissed his very existence as inconsequential. As a fellow Elite-Class warrior, that simply could NOT be allowed at all, and she needed to learn the consequences of her actions.
He took a deep breath, feeling the familiar surge of adrenaline course through his veins. The wastelands were his training ground - even if they were in the lower-class region, a place where he could push his limits without interference. But now, it seemed, a new challenge had presented itself. A challenge he was more than willing to accept. "Bold words," Callion said, his voice low and steady. "But I don't need your approval or your curiosity. I'm out here to test my strength, and if you think you can prove something by facing me, then so be it."
He shifted his stance, his body tensing in preparation. The time for words had passed. Now it was time to let their fists do the talking. Callion's eyes locked onto Salada's, the intensity of his gaze matching her own. There was no turning back now. His ridiculously long and girthy tail that coiled around his waist twice uncoiled, flowing freely.
With a swift motion, Callion launched himself at Salada, his fist aimed directly at her midsection. His movements were precise and controlled, the result of years of disciplined training. He was not just a wild brawler; he was a warrior who had honed his skills through countless battles. His punch was followed by a rapid succession of strikes, each one aimed to test her defences and find an opening.
Should callion's fist met resistance by Salada, who he had no doubt in his mind may block his initial strike… Or not, the impact alone would send a shockwave through the air around them, revealing the extent of Callion’s current power at this time. However, he did not let up, immediately following with a series of quick punches aimed at her head and torso. Each blow was precise, a testament to his rigorous training and disciplined fighting style.
If the fact remains that Salada was holding her ground, Callion would then decide to mix things up. He jumped back, creating a bit of distance between them, and quickly gathered his energy. With a sharp yell, he unleashed a volley of ki blasts, each one aimed to overwhelm her defences and force her to move.
“RRRRRRAAAAGGGH!!!”
The blasts exploded around Salada, but Callion did not wait to see the result. He darted through the smoke and debris, closing the distance again with a burst of speed. His leg swung around in a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at her side, followed by a quick jab aimed at her ribs. He was testing her, probing her defences to find any weaknesses he could exploit.
Callion's movements were fluid and relentless, a seamless blend of physical and energy attacks. He knew he could not afford to underestimate an elite warrior like Salada, so he kept up the pressure, forcing her to react and adapt to his varied assault. Callion's attacks had been relentless, but he knew that even the most aggressive offensive needed moments of calculated defence. As the dust settled from his volley of ki blasts, he quickly shifted into a defensive stance. His feet were firmly planted, one slightly behind the other for balance, and his hands were raised in front of him, ready to deflect or counter any incoming attacks.
His eyes were locked onto Salada, watching her every move with intense focus. He didn't say a word, letting his silence speak volumes about his resolve and readiness. His breathing was steady, his muscles coiled like a spring, prepared to react with precision and speed.
In this stance, Callion's mind was clear, his senses heightened. He could feel the faintest shifts in the air, the subtle changes in Salada's posture that might signal her next move. This moment of calm in the storm was crucial, a test of patience and preparedness. He was ready to respond to whatever Salada would throw at him, whether it was a barrage of physical blows or a sudden surge of energy attacks.
This was the essence of his balanced fighting style—knowing when to strike and when to defend, mastering the ebb and flow of combat. Callion remained poised, a silent warrior awaiting the next clash.
Word Count: 776
Total Word Count: 3,163 |
|
POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Jul 11, 2024 22:35:44 GMT
Post by Salada on Jul 11, 2024 22:35:44 GMT
"Oh, for kai's sake... Shut UP." Salada huffed, growing impatient with this man. What was even up with these low-class? For all their power, they were just ALL TALK, weren't they? Here she was, putting them down, insulting their status, questioning their very existences and they wanted to know WHY? Did it MATTER!? Where was their Saiyan Pride!? EVERYTHING she said must've struck some kind of nerve. It MUST'VE invoked some primal urge for revenge. It was ingrained in every (save the lowest of the low) Saiyan: the desire to stand at the top! Insults would NOT be accepted, especially from another Saiyan!
"Is this what 'pride' is to you? You really ARE a disgrace." She glared at Callion, staring down at him like the mongrel he was. "You're worthless, even. For whatever power you have, you act like a human. Questioning WHY I'm here, claiming I should 'leave.' None of that should matter. Since you're a moron, let me spell it out for you: I'm picking a fight. You're a Saiyan. Fight me."
...Salada was really starting to question if Callion had a DROP of blood in him. Perhaps he was a half-breed, a half-spawn whelp born from a warrior who couldn't keep it in their pants. His parent would have to resemble their sort in some way, after all he had the natural physique and face of a Saiyan warrior. His... passive temper, though... It was really starting to grate on her nerves. From Saalda's perspective, Callion was either the DUMBEST warrior she'd ever met, the man taking her approach as simply being MEAN rather than what it actually was, or he his blood ran so THIN of Saiyan influence, he couldn't begin to fathom throwing the first punch! Either way, it was repulsive, fit to be destroyed, really.
...But with one more word of cowardice, throwing the fight on Salada's shoulders instead of embracing the opportunity, Callion would drop into his stance.
...Even so, Salada was disappointed. If this was what low-class Saiyans were like, it was a wonder why the King hadn't ordered them all killed by now. Look at this man: All of that muscle, that strength... and he was whining like a child who had been hit for the first time! 'Oh no! Someone said bad words to me! I have no choice but to fight! POOOOOR MEEEEEE!' What a load of Tuffle-crap." ...But at least he was standing his ground. Callion would RUSH at her like a speeding bullet, a punch aimed at her mid-section! Salada easily side-stepped the strike.
"Finally." She grunted, throwing a punch of her own, aiming to crack the man across the jaw! From their, Salada and Callion exchanged blows like a a pair of dueling machine guns, rapid-fire shots going back and forth at speeds that left after-images where their fists once were! Any time they collided, the air EXPLODED between them, the burst causing Salada's boots to skid back in the dirt. She didn't care. Honestly, she didn't much care that she could FEEL this man's power, how it exceeded hers, even...
...All this TALK over stupid, meaningless nothing had worked up an appetite for a fight... and she was going to GET IT!
Salada read Callion's next move and LEAPT forward as he jumped back, Salada keeping in close as he attempted to fire upon her with a barrage blasts! Most went safely over her head, around and behind her... the rest she swatted away, already closing in on him! Callion prepared himself and Salada would rush right at him... before phasing right through him!? What was....
....Was that an afterimage!?
YES! Salada appeared behind Callion, cocking back her leg and aiming a straight-kick to the middle of his spine, aiming to send him crashing to the ground face-first!
WC: 634 TWC: 2156
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Post by Callion on Jul 12, 2024 7:30:10 GMT
Callion sensed Salada's movement just in time, his instincts honed from countless battles kicking in. He twisted his body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the kick to his spine. As he landed, he quickly spun around to face Salada, his expression now serious and focused. This woman had the audacity and the nerve to question his Saiyan pride? Well, she had to be careful now. His Saiyan pride now fully ignited, his attention is now squarely focused on ensuring he puts this woman to the ground and she knows her place. He charged at Salada with renewed Vigor, his fists blazing with energy. Closing the gap between them in an instant, Callion unleashed a rapid combination of punches and kicks, each strike aimed with precision and power. He aimed a powerful uppercut at her jaw, followed by a spinning kick targeting her ribs. As Salada countered with her own barrage of attacks, Callion expertly blocked and parried, his movements a seamless blend of offense and defence. He could feel the adrenaline surging through his veins, his Saiyan instincts guiding his every move. With a burst of energy, Callion leapt back, creating some distance between them. He quickly gathered his energy, forming a glowing sphere of ki in his hand. Once the Ki energies were primed and ready to be used, Callion started hurling the ki blast directly at Salada. The explosion rocked the wasteland, dust and debris flying in all directions. Callion didn't wait to see the result. He dashed forward, using the cover of the explosion to his advantage. As the smoke cleared, he appeared behind Salada, his fists charged with energy once more.  “RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!!!”Callion's roar echoed through the wasteland, a primal sound that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. Fueled by his Saiyan pride and determination, he launched himself at Salada with relentless ferocity. His fists and feet became a blur of motion, each strike aimed to overwhelm her defenses and force her back.  "GYYYAAAAH!!" Callion shouted, throwing a powerful right hook aimed at Salada's jaw. Without pausing, he followed up with a series of rapid-fire punches to her midsection, each one landing with a resounding thud. He didn't give her a moment to recover, immediately transitioning into a spinning kick aimed at her head. Whether Salada blocked or countered, Callion's movements became even more aggressive. It was clear it was on sight with the fiery determination of nothing short of a bloodbath, his eyes never leaving hers. "RRRRRAAAGGH!!" he growled, leaping into the air and bringing both fists down in a powerful hammer blow aimed at her shoulders. When she sidestepped with the afterimage, Callion anticipated her move and quickly spun around, delivering a backhand strike that grazed her cheek. He pressed his advantage, driving her back with a flurry of ki-infused punches and kicks. His Saiyan pride and the very fire of powering his resolve to win this battle no matter the cost as a warrior only further fuelled his unyielding determination. Callion's energy seemed to surge with each passing moment, his attacks growing more intense and precise. He focused all his power into a devastating uppercut aimed at Salada's chin, followed by a barrage of ki blasts from point-blank range. The force of his attacks created shockwaves that rippled through the air, a testament to the sheer power he was unleashing. The Elite-Class Saiyan’s eyes were absolutely glutted to the woman before him, a lion having found a piece of meat to consume, his eyes blazing with fierce resolve. He did not let up for a second, determined to prove his strength and show Salada exactly what he was capable of. His attacks came faster and harder, a relentless onslaught that pushed both to their limits. Callion's resolve intensified as he charged forward with unwavering focus. He lunged at Salada, fists clenched tightly, delivering a rapid series of punches aimed at her midsection. Each strike was precise and forceful, leaving little room for her to counter. His movements became a blur of calculated aggression. Callion's left fist aimed for her ribs, swiftly followed by a right cross targeting her shoulder. He ducked low, avoiding a possible counterattack should it appear, and sprang upward with an explosive uppercut aimed at her chin. Without pausing, he spun on his heel, delivering a powerful roundhouse kick aimed at her side. There was no room for peace, no chance of asking for the battle to end, Callion remained relentless. He sidestepped with an increase in speed, closing the distance, and delivered a knee to her abdomen. Using the momentum, he followed up with an elbow strike to her jaw, his every move fuelled by a combination of instinct and finely-honed combat skills. His attacks were relentless, a storm of physical blows that kept Salada on the defensive. Whether even he got hit or not at this point was subjective, chances are he probably allowed himself to get damaged by Salada’s mighty blows, regardless his eyes locked onto her every movement. Callion's fists and feet moved in perfect harmony, creating a relentless barrage that pushed her to her limits. In a burst of speed, Callion closed the distance again, his fists aiming for critical points. A right hook to her temple, a swift jab to her sternum, and a powerful straight punch aimed at her solar plexus. He was a whirlwind of close-range combat, each move executed with precision and power. Determined to maintain the upper hand, Callion's onslaught continued, his body a blur of motion as he unleashed a combination of strikes, never giving Salada a moment to recover. His focus was unwavering, his attacks relentless, and his determination unbreakable as he pushed both of them to their physical limits.
Word Count: 952 Total Word Count: 4,115 |
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POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Jul 13, 2024 19:39:04 GMT
Post by Salada on Jul 13, 2024 19:39:04 GMT
Salada grunted as her kick was batted aside by the larger Saiyan. Despite his annoying pacifism, it seemed he kept a firm eye on his six. Perhaps there was some Saiyan blood in this man after all. The elite whirled away, preparing a counter attack... only for her EARS to be assaulted by the scream of a primal animal! ...Or was it just Callion, whose power was suddenly EXPLODING right now. Even without her scouter being pinged, the gadget WHIRRED to life, numbers flashing across her eye across her eye so fast, the Saiyan had to block them out lest the distract her!
"...What is this?" She growled, gritting her teeth. "Is that all it took to break you, a few insults? I'm disappointed!" ...More screaming. More power being unleashed. Where was all of this coming from...? How could he be so... SOFT one second to doing whatever this was!? Even without watching her scouter RISE, Salada could tell that his energy signature was skyrocketing! It was in the air, splashing all over the ground.... his Ki was everywhere! How much did he HAVE that he could just waste it like this!? ...And what was more, his mind seemed to be completely gone, just.... screaming. Where was all that talk a second ago, his over-confidence?
With a roar, he charged at her, completely out of his mind! Salada's expression went from shock, to anger as the man threw his punch, the Saiyan CROSSING her arms in front of herself as the fist CRASHED into them! INSTANTLY, she was shoved back along the ground! Her boots dug trenches into the earth as she skidded back, her arms trembling from the force they had taken as she lowered them to her sides. His strength was nuts! BORDERLINE IMPOSSIBLE! HOW WAS HE THIS STRONG!?
When Salada attempted her trick, Callion was there to LASH BACK with a backhand, something Salada JUST MANAGED to jump back from... before he was on her again.
...Well, this was annoying.... for that was all it was. Salada was learning REALLY QUICKLY that, for all of Callion's talk of training, he was fighting like a monkey with none to speak of. His punches over extended, his kicks were sloppy and imprecise... and he was firing them out as if they were part of a salvo... but Salada wasn't intimidated. If anything, she was comfortably on the defensive! YES, Callion's strength was impressive and YES, his tenacity was overwhelming... But in the end, he was an animal... and animals couldn't think with any reasonable measure.
Every attack he threw, every savage blow, every punch... whiffed... and grew more distant with each one! Salada was in his head, she felt and, as much of a chaotic mess it was, she could detect a pattern. Hell, she didn't even NEED the pattern, really, as he was telegraphing every one of his techniques with a SCREAM and a big wind-up swing! YEAH, there was a lot of them...
...But Salada was well-trained... and she still had her mind. This sort of thing was nothing special. As Callion threw a punch at her head, Salada would duck low and SWING her leg at his stomach, aiming to SLAM her shin need into his solar-plexus! If she succeeded, Salada would push aside a punch meant for her face, slipping around Callion in that moment and throwing a sharp kick at the back of his knee, aiming to drop him to one! With one final motion, Salada would reach out to GRAB a fist-full of Callion's hair and place her other hand near his throat, a LONG sanguine energy-blade resting against his flesh!
"Get control of yourself. This is pathetic." Salada huffed, a bead of sweat rolling down her face. "Do it... Or you DIE."
WC: 630
TWC: 2786
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Jul 14, 2024 17:22:51 GMT
Post by Callion on Jul 14, 2024 17:22:51 GMT
Callion's frenzied assault was relentless, each blow fuelled by a raw, primal energy that seemed to know no bounds. His power surged through him like a torrent, but his form lacked the precision and control needed to land a decisive hit. Salada's defensive manoeuvres were impeccable, her calculated steps and quick reflexes keeping her just out of his reach. As his wild punch aimed for her head, Salada ducked low, her leg swinging up with precision to connect with Callion's solar plexus. The impact momentarily knocked the wind out of him, but his resolve remained unshaken. He barely registered the pain as Salada moved behind him, her sharp kick driving him down to one knee. Before he could react, he felt a sharp pull on his hair, and a cold energy blade pressed against his throat. Callion's breath came in ragged gasps, his muscles tense with the urge to fight back. Her words cut through the haze of his anger, her disdain palpable.  "You disappoint me," he said, his voice a low growl. Callion's eyes narrowed, his frown deepening. He could feel the energy blade against his skin, a constant reminder of his precarious position. But amidst the chaos of his thoughts, a plan began to form. With a sudden burst of energy, he channelled his ki into his free hand, a glowing sphere forming at his fingertips. Without a word, he thrust his hand upward, aiming the ki blast directly at Salada's stomach. The explosion of energy forced her to release her grip on his hair, the force sending her flying back. Callion rose to his feet, his breathing heavy, but his eyes clear and focused. "You thought you had me," he muttered, his voice steady. "But you underestimated me."The force of Callion's ki attack would've caused Salada to crash onto the ground, the impact kicking up a cloud of dust. Callion stood ready, his body tense and prepared for her next move. This battle was far from over, and he was determined to prove himself, not just to her, but to himself as well. Callion stood tall, his breath finally beginning to steady as he stared down at Salada, who was just getting back to her feet. The sudden intensity in his eyes was matched by the disappointed look on his face, a look of pure disdain for the elite warrior who had underestimated him so completely. "You saw me training on my own, here in this miserable lower-class region," Callion began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Then you saw me enrage, and you didn't suspect this to be a trap? A ploy?"He took a step forward, his stance shifting to a more aggressive one, the confidence of an elite-class Saiyan now radiating from him. "You truly are naive, aren't you? You thought you could waltz in here, throw a few insults, and break me. You didn't even consider that I might be testing you, gauging your reactions, setting you up."Callion ridiculously long and girthy tail slammed the ground beneath him, the soil cracked due to the force, it was clear that the male Elite Saiyan didn't want or even allow her a mere chance to respond. He continued, his tone growing harsher, more mocking. "I don't know whether to recognize you as a Saiyan elite, lower class, or even a Saiyan at all. Very disappointing."With that, Callion launched himself at her, his attacks now calculated and precise. Each punch and kick was delivered with the skill and ferocity befitting a true Saiyan warrior. He moved with the fluidity of someone who had trained his entire life for combat, each movement efficient and deadly. "Is this the best you can do?" Callion taunted, circling her like a predator. "I expected more from an elite. Maybe you're just not cut out for this." He didn't let up, pressing the attack, determined to drive his point home. Salada was strong, but she had underestimated him, and now she was paying the price. Callion's strikes came faster and harder, each one a testament to his strength and skill. "You wanted a fight?" he growled, delivering a final, devastating blow that sent her crashing into the ground. "Well, now you've got one. And you're losing." He stood over her, his chest heaving, his eyes blazing with a fierce pride. This was what it meant to be a Saiyan warrior. This was what it meant to be an elite. And Callion was determined to show her just how wide the gap between them truly was. Callion stared down at Salada, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and disappointment. He took a deep breath, his voice cold and cutting as he spoke. "A Saiyan warrior should know when a trap has been made," he said, his tone heavy with disdain. "And you went straight for it without a second thought."Callion continued to apply pressure, the male Elite Saiyan continued to have his foot pinning her down, pressing her into the dirt. He leaned in closer, his face mere inches from hers, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "You have power, I'll give you that," he continued. "But you lack foresight and discipline. You're reckless, charging into situations without thinking, without planning. That's not the mark of a true warrior; that's the mark of a fool."He stepped back, allowing her to stand, but his eyes never left her. "Strength alone isn't enough. A true Saiyan combines power with strategy, with patience. You should have seen through my act, should have anticipated my moves. Instead, you let your arrogance blind you." Callion clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking with the intensity of his grip. "Consider this a lesson. Power is worthless if you don't know how to use it wisely. Remember that the next time you think about challenging someone."
Word Count: 973 Total Word Count: 5,088 |
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POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Jul 15, 2024 23:46:29 GMT
Post by Salada on Jul 15, 2024 23:46:29 GMT
The moment Callion spoke, so lucid and in control was his voice, Salada paused. it was as if the very air itself had changed direction in that moment, becoming heavy, intense... quiet. Something was off here. A quick glance around revealed nothing. No hidden traps, no after images assaulting her flank... Just the way this man SPOKE to her instilled the Saiyan with caution.
...She hated it.
"Oh yeah...?" She challenged, pulling her blade back and turning it's point inward towards Callion's throat. "Who's on their knees here, low-class?"
...Well, not him, because Salada was suddenly BLASTED IN THE STOMACH! Somehow, without her noticing it, perhaps with Salada too focused on the intensity of Callion's voice, he had brought a hand up and planted a ki-ball right against her lower breastplate! The elite ROARED in pain as her hands shot down to PUSH against the sphere, Salada's back SLAMMING into the earth as she managed to wedge her hands under it and LAUNCH it into the sky! Using the momentum of her harsh impact, she would flip into a half-crouch, looking up into the smokescreen created by her impact!
"Rrrgh... Bastard..." Salada snarled. She looked left... looked right...
*BEEBEEBEEP!* Her scouter pinged!
"What the-" Salada turned back in front of her and Callion was standing there, his massive form towering over her like some kind of giant! ...And then he started to talk. Salada narrowed her eyes at the man as he started waxing lyrical to her. "Disappointed" this, "Expected more" that... What was even UP WITH THESE GUYS!? DIDN'T THEY KNOW HOW TO SHUT UP AND FIGHT!? She only let this little charade carry on for so long before she interrupted, holding up a hand to stop the man before he could encroach one more aggressive step. ...Good timing too, because he was raising his foot up to stomp her like a bug.
"First of all: Shut up." She started, her open 'stop' hand gesture closing to a single raised finger. "Second... you're wide open." Salada would suddenly swing to the side as Callion brought his foot down, her bringing her foot up in tandem to SLAM in between his legs! If it connected, one would practically be able to hear the sound of glass breaking as she dug to toe of her boot upwards, aiming to PLUNGE this man into the deepest pits of weakness from which he wrote his little speech!
If Salada succeeded, she would spring up and drill her knee UP into Callion's face before flipping over his head, grabbing TWO fistfulls of his long hair and slamming him to the ground FACE-DOWN as she completed her flip! Salada would then lift him up, and, not-too-gently, SLAP THE LIVING LIGHTS out of him! Two blows, forehand and backhand, she would SLAP the Saiyan warrior, almost like a mother disciplining an angsty child!
"Nobody's here for all that jibber-jabber, low-born." Salada growled. "Put up your fists and fight. SHOW ME who you are. I'm not here for a bloody lecture." To make that point ever clearer, Salada would place her hand near his face... and fire an energy beam RIGHT INTO IT FROM POINT-BLANK RANGE! "FIGHT, you ridiculous little man! I want to have some FUN!"
WC: 540
TWC: 3326
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Jul 18, 2024 21:02:05 GMT
Post by Callion on Jul 18, 2024 21:02:05 GMT
Callion gritted his teeth as Salada's boot connected with a brutal kick to his groin, a sharp, intense pain exploding through his body. His vision blurred for a moment, but he managed to remain standing, his Saiyan resilience and training kicking in. The knee to his face came next, and though he was dazed, he barely registered the pain before he was slammed to the ground, face-first, by his hair. Not to mention the devastating energy from point-blank range managing to do some serious damage, burning his upper body training gear, his skinned charred by her attack!
The slaps stung more than the kicks and punches, not because of the physical pain, but because of the humiliation they represented. As Salada berated him, her words blending into a single, grating noise, he felt the energy beam searing his skin, but something inside him shifted.
The time for talk was over.
With a roar, Callion surged upward, breaking free from Salada's grip. His eyes locked onto hers, no longer filled with anger or disdain but with a cold, calculating focus. He was done holding back. He was done underestimating his opponent.
In an instant, Callion launched himself at Salada, his movements precise and lethal. His fist drove into her midsection with a force that sent shockwaves through her body. Should the blow managed to connect, Callion would not remotely hesitate to not give her a moment to recover, he followed up with a barrage of punches, each one aimed at her vital points. His blows were relentless, his ki flaring around him in a bright aura that illuminated the wasteland.
Callion did not stop, he was going full in for this fight and he was truly infuriated by this woman behaviour in this combat, it did not stop the Elite-Class Male Saiyan from continuing, only furthering his assault… It was simply unyielding. He did not let up, did not give her a chance to breathe. His strikes were calculated, aimed to wear her down, to push her to her limits. He finally caught her by the arm, twisting it behind her back and pinning her to the ground.
Callion's grip tightened on Salada's arm as he pinned her to the ground, his muscles rippling with controlled fury. He wasted no time in continuing his relentless assault. With a swift motion, he lifted her up and hurled her through the air, sending her crashing into a nearby rock formation. Before she could regain her footing, he was already upon her, a blur of motion and power. He closed the distance in an instant, his fist connecting with her midsection once again, driving the air from her lungs. He followed up with a series of rapid kicks, each one aimed to break her guard and leave her vulnerable. His movements were a deadly dance, fluid and precise, every strike calculated to inflict maximum damage.
Without giving her a moment's respite, he unleashed a flurry of punches, his fists moving too fast for the eye to follow. Each strike landed with bone-shattering force, driving her back step by step. He was unrelenting, his attacks a continuous stream of power and precision. With a final, devastating blow, he sent her flying once more, his ki blast following her trajectory and exploding upon impact. Callion stood amidst the rubble, his chest heaving with exertion, his eyes locked onto Salada. He was a silent, unstoppable force, his only focus on defeating his opponent.
Word Count: 576
Total Word Count: 5,664 |
|
POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Jul 18, 2024 23:35:13 GMT
Post by Salada on Jul 18, 2024 23:35:13 GMT
Eating a kick from Salada was no small feat. Her blows, after all, could casually take the heads off mountains and smash through all but the absolute HARDEST of substances... and Callion took one... to his GROIN. One could scarcely imagine the utter revoltion, the complete and absolute weakness that would wash over the Saiyan man as Salada's toe dug up between his legs like a spike, smashing into one of the most vulnerable places anyone could ever have. She could almost feel it herself through the expression on the man's face, seeing almost a dozen shades of pain flash across the man's face, the weakness threatening to take hold... before it hardened to iron.
"...What does it take...?" Salada grimaced. Indeed, what WOULD it take to bring this ridiculous hulk-of-a-man down!? If a kick to between the legs wouldn't do it, what... would she have to plant a blast down his throat!? The image of such a thing brought Salada an unexpected smile to her face. Somehow, she found that amusing.
BACK to the fight and whatever natural fury that should've manifested from such an UGLY and downright crushing blow had solidified into cold resolution on Callion's face. SOMEHOW, he fought back the overwhelming primal instinct to fly into a rage and, instead, honed that slag-of-an-emotion into a credible weapon. To see this, for Salada, was like watching some surreal recording play out before her, as literally NOTHING she expected to happen, be him buckling or devolving back into a rabid beast, happened. His first attack, an uppercut, Salada caught... with both hands. She had seen retaliation coming from a mile away but... Oh, Kais... HOW MUCH FORCE WAS IN THIS!? Salada felt the palms of her gloves EXPLODE as Callion's fist STRUCK her palms, the elite staggering back as an odd tinging sensation crept up her arm.
Rattled...? Was she, a SAIYAN ELITE, rattled!? By THIS MAN!?
"Rrrrgh..." She growled... but didn't have time to stew because Callion... was on a roll. His punches came in so hard and fast, Salada was having to dodge more than she could block! Every step back taken was another step's-worth of ground Callion took, pressuring her with an unrelenting barrage of punches aimed at everywhere vulnerable! It was like a shotgun blast with each pellet precisely shot from a sniper, aimed to bring her down one way... or another.
"CURSE YOU!" She ROARED in irritation... before getting socked across her jaw. Salada was sent FLYING back, skidding on the ground before she managed to FLIP herself up and JUMP to the sky, arm cocked back as she charged energy within her palm! ...Only in the next instant to realize Callion was no longer there. ...And in the next after THAT, realize that he was holding her hand in place... because he was now hovering behind her! Salada stared at his hand, then at Callion in utter disbelief before she was sent flying END-OVER-END towards a pillar... which she promptly destroyed with her body as she was hurled through it! Salada grunted heavily, gritting her teeth in anger and pain.... and then Callion was in her face AGAIN, fists coming at her like a hail storm!
"ENOUGH!" She roared, CATCHING his fists, one in each hand! This time, her gloves FULLY exploded off her hands from the sheer force of impact, reduced to rubbery shreds that fluttered harmlessly to the ground! Salada would then SLAM her head into Callion's nose before swinging her knee up to connect with his jaw! From there, Salada would bring her arms up and sledgehammer the crown of his skull so that it was HE that would plummet towards the wastes below! Salada would drop rapidly after him, aiming to plant her boot in his neck and GRIND HIM DOWN DEEPER into the rock@
WC: 638 TWC: 3964
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|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
|
Jul 20, 2024 19:12:57 GMT
Post by Callion on Jul 20, 2024 19:12:57 GMT
Callion crashed heavily into the ground, the impact reverberating through the earth. His body lay there, seemingly lifeless, battered, and bruised from the relentless onslaught. Callion could just about sense and feel Salada hovering above him, her boot pressing down into his neck with brutal force, grinding him further into the rocky terrain. Her expression was a mixture of triumph and irritation, the satisfaction of inflicting pain evident on her face. As she continued to apply pressure, Callion's body twitched slightly. The silence was broken only by the faint sounds of his laboured breathing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he began to move. His fingers, stiff and battered, twitched before they reached out with a determined effort. His hand gripped onto Salada's ankle with a vice-like hold. “Don’t… Count me out… Just yet… You Low-Born…”
The tone of his voice was muffled due to the boot to the neck, but his words were just as cold as his blood-eyed stare. Truly, there was this unquestionable reactivation of Callion’s vitality, with the unyielding strength of Male Elite-Saiyan's hand, the pressure increasing with every second. The intensity of his grip was a stark contrast to his seemingly defeated form. Callion's eyes, though heavy with pain, locked onto Salada's with unwavering determination. His grip tightened further, a silent declaration of his unwillingness to be defeated. Despite the bloodied and bruised state, he was in, the sheer force of his will was enough to reignite the spark of combat one more time. The battle was nearly over, to be sure, and Callion’s resilience was a testament to his unbreakable Saiyan spirit. Just as soon as the silence could not be more palpable, as Callion’s heartbeat began to increase, allowing the blood to pump around once more. Callion’s other hand shot up with lightning speed, catching her leg should such a move be successful. He twisted his body with a powerful heave, using Salada’s momentum against her. She was yanked off balance, her foot slipping from his neck as she stumbled to the side. With a guttural roar, Callion surged to his feet, his aura flaring wildly around him. He charged at Salada, his fists moving in a blur of powerful strikes. Each punch was delivered with the precision and ferocity of a seasoned warrior. Should such movements of the last of Callion’s current strength managed to pull though, this would Callion had the advantage of the surprise attack, as he proceeded to go all out on his relentless assault. Callion’s fists hammered against Salada’s defences, forcing her to retreat step by step. He moved with a silent intensity, his eyes never leaving hers, the only sound coming from the impact of their strikes. Callion twisted his body, the blow glancing off his side as he retaliated with a spinning kick that caught Salada in the shoulder. The impact sent her sprawling, at least several feet away from Callion, finally having breathing room to fully have his own space for now.  Callion, breathing heavily but standing tall, stared back at her, his silence speaking volumes. There was no need for words. This was a battle of Saiyan pride, a test of strength and determination. And Callion was far from finished. He beckoned Salada with a flick of his fingers, challenging her to come at him with everything she had. His ridiculously long and girthy Saiyan tail flowed freely, his eyes glared at him. However, he knew deep down he was currently at his limit. He would not dare show weakness infront of her, even as he was battered and beaten. But his point was made clear… NEVER underestimate him.
Word Count: 602 Total Word Count: 6,266 |
|
POWER LEVEL
19,455
Tech Points
1/8
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
15,161
Saiyan
|
Jul 22, 2024 16:02:38 GMT
Post by Salada on Jul 22, 2024 16:02:38 GMT
Ah, the satisfaction of feeling someone grind into the ground beneath her boot... It was like music. A symphony, really. The only small quirk in it, however, was the lack of... BREAKING. She felt neither Callion's body slacken, nor shatter under her foot as she SMASHED and DROVE his head down into the ground, his form remaining as sturdy as ever, even now. She heard him mutter something about not counting him out and the Elite merely smirked, stepping off the man... only to KICK his head like it were a ball!
"Please. Don't make me laugh." Salada said, her aura BURSTING to life around her. "You've been nothing but my toy. Maybe you have some potential... but don't act for a moment like you're my equal." She lifted up a hand, fingers curled into claws, ready to strike down the giant. "...See you in hell." JUST as she brought it down, the man let out a MASSIVE ROAR of raw power, frustration, and rage, his energy EXPLODING out of him like a violent reactor meltdown! Salada was thrown CLEAR off her feet as this sudden surge of energy manifested, the Saiyan having to flip to keep her feet under her... then CROUCH the moment her boots connected with the ground to keep the wind from BLASTING her back further! She hissed, her annoyance growing ever more intense against this thing.
Why was he still fighting her!? He'd obviously lost! It was clear! Anyone with eyes could see that this man had no chance and yet, here he was, still swinging away at her! ...And swing he did. Salada barely had enough time to get her act together before Callion was on her again! Screaming like some mad beast, he would set upon her a flurry of blows that, really, were a work of art. He struck fast, and hard, and with PURPOSE. No punch was superfluous, nor thrown with the recklessness his demeanor would imply. He threw feints, he used power-blows to he knew she would block to slow her reaction time, he assaulted her defenses with a flurry of lesser blows to make way for bigger ones!
...In essence, Callion fought like an Elite. Salada was taking damage despite her best efforts. Callion's massive fists nailed her across the jaw, in the stomach... but nothing made her give ground, even an inch. As Callion's fist CRASHED across her jaw, Salada opened her hand and allowed a sphere of energy to slip down into the cragged, shattered ground below, the Saiyaness sent SKIDDING back on the spine of her armor a second later!
As she rose, shaking her head and, to her chagrin, groaning, Callion would stare down over her, gesturing for the woman to come to him. She stared, dumbfounded by the disrespect... and then that sphere she dropped... exploded just under where Callion now stood. In an instant, Salada was upon Callion, but instead of unleashing a barrage of attacks, she put a MASSIVE amount of power into only three. Should the explosion throw Callion into the air, Salada would appear above him, hands intertwined above her head before SWINGING them down to SMASH into his body! The next instant, Salada was below him, her foot SHOOTING up to SMASH into his spine as he rocketed down and, from there, she would SWING that leg down, SMASHING Callion head-first down upon the ground!
WC: 566 TWC: 4530
|
|
POWER LEVEL
97,186
Tech Points
11/25
Forms
Oozaru [x10]
Zeni
16,470
Saiyan
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Jul 23, 2024 21:57:56 GMT
Post by Callion on Jul 23, 2024 21:57:56 GMT
Callion had no time to react as the explosion beneath him sent him hurtling into the air. Before he could regain his bearings, Salada was upon him. Her intertwined fists crashed down on him with the force of a meteor, sending shockwaves through his body. He could feel his bones straining under the impact, but he did not have a moment to catch his breath.
Salada's foot connected with his spine, an intense pain shooting through his back as she rocketed him downward. The ground rushed up to meet him, but before he could even think of a way to soften the blow, Salada's leg swung down like a hammer. Her foot smashed into his head, driving him into the earth with such force that the ground shattered around him.
Callion lay there, battered and beaten, the world spinning around him. He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to obey. Pain radiated from every part of his being, a stark reminder of his defeat. Despite his warrior spirit, the relentless onslaught from Salada had left him broken and vulnerable. His vision blurred as he struggled to remain conscious, his pride the only thing keeping him from surrendering to the darkness that threatened to consume him. Callion lay motionless on the ground, his body battered and bruised from Salada's relentless assault. For a moment, there was only the silence of his own laboured breathing and the distant rumble of the battlefield. He remained still, the pain almost too much to bear, his vision a swirling haze of colours.
Should Salada move away from the body, leaving him seemingly defeated, a faint pulse of life flickered within him. The ground around Callion began to tremble slightly as he summoned the last remnants of his strength. His fingers twitched, then his hands slowly began to move, pushing against the rubble and debris that covered him. Groaning, he gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus. Every movement was agony, but his Saiyan pride and determination drove him forward. His vision gradually cleared, the blurry shapes of the battlefield coming into focus. Callion could see Salada in the distance, her form a mix of anger and satisfaction.
With immense effort, he began to shuffle and crawl, his muscles protesting with every inch. As Callion pushed himself to his feet, each movement sent jolts of pain through his battered body. His vision, though still hazy, began to sharpen. He took slow, deliberate breaths, focusing through the pain and exhaustion. He gritted his teeth and steadied himself, his eyes locking onto Salada in the distance. The battle was far from over, and his Saiyan pride refused to let him fall.
I WILL NOT FALL.
Every muscle in his body protested, but the inner fire of his resolve burned brighter. His fists clenched at his sides, the knuckles white against the dirt and grime. Callion took another step forward, his movements slow but purposeful.
THIS IS MY FIGHT.
He struggled to maintain his balance, the world around him still spinning from the force of Salada’s attacks. Yet, through the haze of pain, Callion's mind was clear. He was a Saiyan, a warrior, and he would not give in.
I AM A WARRIOR.
His vision was returning fully now, and he saw the determination in Salada’s stance. It only fuelled his own resolve. With every ounce of strength he had left, Callion straightened his posture and lifted his gaze. His entire body ached, but the fire within him was unwavering.
I WILL SHOW YOU.
Despite the damage, Callion's expression hardened with fierce determination. He would not let this end in defeat. With his last reserves of energy, he prepared himself for the next clash, ready to fight with every bit of Saiyan spirit he possessed.
Callion finally staggered to his feet, each movement slow and deliberate. His gaze was fixed on Salada, his eyes narrowed with a fierce, unwavering resolve. Despite the throbbing pain and the exhaustion that weighed heavily on him, he refused to fall. He took a shaky step forward, then another, his body still aching from the brutal fight. Callion's stance was unsteady, but his spirit remained unbroken. His eyes met Salada’s with a determined glint, ready to continue the fight, even if his body felt like it was on the brink of collapse.
Word Count: 722
Total Word Count: 6,988
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