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[amatsu]

Here lay his greatest achievement the body of the first true Super Saiyan or so they thought after the of the legend that is. She had been a powerful woman in life and he would ensure she would be just as useful in her death. He had the slightest hint of regret that he had to use such methods however it had to be done for the power to flow, his race's true power would not be diluted and locked away in the past. The corpse and Nameless had an understanding; they were not bound by the bonds of power but rather shackled by the chains of worth to one another. Who could use who the most, who could drain the use from their beneficiary until they had no more use for them. Then they would remove the other half and take the spoils for themselves. With her death it would seem that Nameless had come out the victor, though his conquest was not as satisfying as he had originally planned. He had to figure out the secrets of the body to become a super Saiyan.

He gazed at her momentarily running his hand gently across her face. She was beautiful in every way possible; he had never seen a woman who could match her…….it was uncanny. He would knock away her stray black bangs to reveal her face, she looked so peaceful. “Now your beauty shall be preserved for all time …..” he spoke softly to himself as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly. The sentimental moment however, was short lived by the fact that he was going to forcibly rip her organs from her body cultivating whatever he could to find the secret. It was a barbaric yet necessary transition that was needed in order to preserve his race's power and more importantly to enhance his own. The procedure or rather ritual that Nameless was about to perform was one of the most danandgerous and forbidden in all of medical science had ever created, though it’s power was undeniable. The ancient Saiyans were the most feared warriors ever to wander the galaxy, so much so that the most deadly of rivals would form unthinkable bonds to rid the world of them. Less than a handful surviving in seclusion a legacy of some of the most powerful techniques had faded into history. Much like the ones he had discovered today, it was written in ancient language and took him many weeks to decipher yet he had finally scratched the surface of the true power of his ancestors. Though proud of his lineage he had no desire to restore the Saiyan name. His ambitions lied with his own abilities and the means in which to increase them. The scroll he had submitted to memory before burning was forbidden even amongst the most vile of creatures.

Nameless however took little to no regard for ancient warnings and cautious words of men who were too afraid to break from the box of the known. Man had a bad habit of fearing what they did not understand, yet Nameless knew that fear was the ultimate in understanding. He would not fear this path or its mysterious rituals; instead he would embrace it and use it to escalate his powers to new heights. He would order the young man to lock the door and bolt it before he began. The boy would be there to be his eyes and ears as his focus would be diverted sole to the ritual that was taking place. He would begin by moving the body to the center of the room; he would then slightly unsheathe his blade two thirds the way so he had just enough room to run his hand across the sharpened steel. The blade would be sheathed again as his blood would trickle down. He would let it flow walking around the late Saiyans of old forming a circle of crimson vitae around the body. He would then grab several candles scattered around the room and place them strategically around the circle of blood. He would sit Indian style before he went into a meditative trance where he would inhale and exhale in a focused fashion releasing a large amount of Ki into the newly contained area. The blood would begin to form several symbols on the ground that would start to move counter clockwise. At first the movement was slow and hardly noticeable but as the hours passed and more Ki was filtered into the area the speed would begin to pick up and the woman’s corpse would begin to glow.

The toxins that she had taken in the previous life had begun to burn away at an accelerated rate. The paleness of death had been replaced by her vibrant lively color and the decomposition that was sure to come in after days to come had been halted. This was a vital sign that Saiyab had done his new ritual correctly however the methods could still falter if he did not perform the necessary precautions in which to reinforce and sustain them. The candles began to flicker wildly before they would completely be snuffed out and the smoke would begin to form a globe around the deceased Saiyan woman. The symbols would begin to slow down again and orbs of light would that had caused her to illuminate would begin to get sucked into each symbol slowly. As this was done the seals now would begin to glow a bright green before switching to a exuberant red and the shift of the spectrum of colors would happen several more times. Nameless acute senses would hear the heart beat again and the flow of blood through the body was evident but he knew the form was still just a shell.

The original soul could no longer occupy the body, a torturous thing to see the very pulse return to a form that her spirit could no longer control. The seals would now completely stop now having the properties of a chameleon blending with the colors that were mostly around them. The body began to twitch and the eyes would roll, the mouth would begin to foam heavily. This was the soul’s futile attempt to reclaim the body. Though the body had returned to its original state and the soul had not been removed yet the effects of the preservation were to welcome the body’s new host and to set the stage for removing the previous one. It acted as a letterer of eviction of sorts. It was a sign to the soul that it could leave peacefully or be painfully drawn out.

[amatsu]

Though many chose to fight for their bodies under the misconception that they could not be harmed again due to them already being dead, the thought of having nothing to lose would come first. Little did they know that death was only the beginning of their pain and torment. The candles were put into place for just that, the actual flame were of little relevance in comparison with the actual placement of the candles. They served two purposes the first being that the smoke they gave off acted as a avenue between the body , soul and symbols for which the Ki could travel more efficiently. The second function was containment of the soul.

The candles were placed in a certain order to act as a cage to contain the soul so that it could not later build strength and hinder the creation by trying to reclaim the body again. However the tantrum that the soul was throwing now was beneficial in that it wore down its strength and resolve making each attempt seem more impossible than the last. Though Nameless remained focused he merely concentrated on his breathing and mental state. The mass amount of Ki that he was slow leaking into the room began to take form combining itself with the smoke. He still remained unmoved however and so far meditation had been his savior. The deep state of mind had kept him focused on the task at hand and it also provided the youthful Saiyan with enough patience to see this through. Never before had he had such control over his Ki, as powerful as he was even he could not attain such control in actual combat.

He could only visualize the events taking place outside his senses feeling it out with his chakra. The feeling was that of euphoria, he could feel every ounce of chakra move from his circulatory system through his mouth and nose, traveling through the smoke and into the air. His body had never known such tranquility before this moment. This new bliss however was fore warned in the text contained in the scroll; if he was not careful he would dive too deep into the sensation and lose focus. One could become trapped in his own sense of inner renewal for years. He had to attain a perfect medium at all times. Another danger was that he could lose focus of how much Ki he allowed to be released. The slow leak could easily be turned into a flood gate and that would be the end of him. Slowly his hands would rise upward and the smoke that was once an orb would begin to encircle the corpse. proceeded with her new found technique.

The third and fourth points were located on either arm, always in the radial bicep area, the brachii or some such. He watched as she touched the points on her body lightly, allowing herself a visual of where they would be as well, yet still no further explanation for him to clarify the attack. Located where the arm would fold was the fifth point, poised in direct position, and again he watched to see exactly where on the body it would be. Once he was sure that he understood, he would strike. Next was the sixth point, located dead center of the forearm, one of the easier places to strike. Seven, eight, nine, ten, and eleven all seemed to be in a straight light, from the wrist up to the thumb, making it quite the dangerous cluster should it be targeted. “This should do it for the Lung Meridian” She said to herself lowly now looking a bit more cautious. He was aware of how dangerous her osseous techniques could be when you were her enemy but what she used now differed from her usual style. One after another she would place her fingers where the dots would be, making sure to be precise, as she punished mistakes ferociously even when dealing with herself. Each point she had correct released more and more tension from her face, until she had finished with the eleventh, and perhaps she would deem herself ready to move on to the next Meridian set. She would move her hand over the next set of points that I would have to remember, my three eyes watching with mild interest, concentrating enough to learn it and memorize it. From the index finger of the left hand, all the way to the wrist, were the first five points.

They lined up in almost a lightning bolt shape, having a wide range of effects, from simple pain to blindness and coma. She touched each one on her own body, reviewing their locations as she had done before, allowing herself to get a visual memory as well as on paper. As she nodded, she would move on to the next points. Six through fifteen resided on the left arm as well, a straight line of the arm was extended, with eleven being in the fold of the elbow off to the left. The first six were located on the forearm, this is included the eleventh point, each possessing their own myriad of effects. All of these six points dealt with either power loss or coma, finishing the fight quickly, so that one has the free time to do other things. She would press each of these as well upon her body, allowing herself to remember them as well, while explaining their properties. She would list their practical application also, should she ever wish to put them into the medical field where she alive she would have been fatal. Twelve through fifteen dealt with immobilizing her opponent, so that they could not continue the fight.

The last five points were located along the throat and face, one point located on the trapezoidal. She began to point out the points on the scroll, studying diligently on where they would be located with her hand, before moving to her own body. As she went over the many uses, it was the point seventeen that caught her interest for the moment, and Nameless listened intently to the description. Apparently it was a point that, when struck, would cause death without hope of revival; unless the point is struck again most likely. This point would prove useful in the future, should he ever need to kill without being detected. Finishing with the explanations, he felt he had a full understanding of the Colon Meridian, which only meant that it was time to move on. She would look over to the area he hid within for a moment, examining it as if she suspected something only briefly, before shaking her head. “Neglecting his training?” So my body was still not as powerful as it could be in her eyes. With a swift step, his wife was before him, placing her hand upon his head with a grin. A wave of chakra flooded through his body, then suddenly he was out, drifting in the darkness of his mind and soul. What manner of technique was this that could place him in such a predicament? With everything he was he fought to return to the area in which he had saw her.

[amatsu]

Normally Nameless would have been able to fend his advesary off with relative ease but it would seem that within her body she had a major power boost and he was at a bit of a disadvantage. Also somehow there she was able to disconnect Nameless from a large portion of his power. It was then that he saw the flaw in what he was doing. Somehow she had been feeding off the Ki that was sustaining the body in order to power her spirit. Nameless had performed the ritual order of removal wrong. He had to weaken the spirit beyond renewal. This would give him the window he needed to insert the ancient being into the body without any complications. Now he would have to go in and manually remove this woman from her body fighting her in her own domain.

He would again place himself in the trance in which he had been sent from. Again he would come face to face with the woman in which he shared a bond with. She would then smile “I will not fight you Nameless I have brought you here for one reason” she said as her finger would touch his head. Before him loomed a gate of intricate design, covered in Japanese kanji that he could barely make out, with doors of brass that allowed only a trickle of the flow to pass through. His eyes looked to what caused him to drift, eyeing the glowing Ki around him, which would not let him down. Behind him and around was nothing but darkness, yet before him was this gate, a kanji that he could finally make out etched into the door; Ni (Two). As his body touched upon it, he was transported from the river into a place he knew nothing of, a room with a single rundown bed and no windows, and only one door. Rising from the bed, he glanced at the door, knowing somehow in his soul that there was nothing in the room. “Very Familiar” this was the Saiyan Elite training facility. He was a child again. The door exploded open as several masked individuals rushed the room, all of them bearing their weapons, bent on his destruction.

He remembered this training session. Within his hand was his trusted katana that was never named, the gleaming blade dim in this dark room, but glorious never the less. A chain kama sped for him, slapped away by the steel that was always by his side, reeling back to its master. His body would spin and lower, passing beneath two katana, and his foot would connect to the chest of the fourth attacker; her petite framed body sailing back several feet. Again would the kama come from a distance, the weapon digging into his shoulder, cutting deep into the flesh. It did not matter, only survival mattered, and this pain was nothing when survival was involved. Leaning away from the first katana, he would catch the second upon the unnamed blade, only one arm usable at the moment. This memory was familiar, they had come simulate those wanting a live pureblood saiyan as a weapon to use the power within his body, but they did not succeed; perhaps this time would be different in this image.

Pulling free a split second fast, the kama would connect with the opposing blade, the chain wrapping around the steel; then it would be severed. His blade would wound the boy with the first blade connecting with center mass, sailing forward and catching the girl center of the chest as she rose, but leaving him weaponless; except for the kama. Gripping the wooden handle of the weapon, still stained with his blood, he parried the second katana. The steel would bite deep within the boy who assaulted him, dragging across his flesh, the sickening wet feeling soothing to any Amatsu. A boot would send that badly wounded boy sailing backward, his mask split in half, leaving only one weaponless boy. Tossing aside the Kama, he would move forward, his reptilian green eyes upon the final attacker. Anger rising from the bellows of his very being as he proceeded to the lone man. A fist would sail in his direction, his head would swivel, and he would be caught across the jaw by a solid side kick. Slamming up against his barren wall, he would sink to one knee, the man advancing. Rolling to the side avoided the powerful front kick, which slammed against the wall with a thud, denting it so easily. Two more punches, both evaded, and a kick blocked by his left forearm; broken now. But that bought him time, his own fist connecting with the boy‘s gentalia, causing him to stagger.

Nameless‘s hands wrapped the boy‘s face and twisted, the sick snap, the loss of life, and his final opponent fell to the ground. Now he sat alone. He would see the Saiyan captain run to check on the man before he stared at Nameless talking in a mild tone.

“He died quickly with no pain…..you killed him mercilessly and quickly, though death was not needed. You are indeed an angel of death a heavenly demon.” Soon the scene would change, although he would still remain the same age, the world around him would wobble and fade. Now he stood within the training facility grounds, a woman before him, the woman he would call sensei after he had became a warrior. She smiled at him before her death, just as she had done before, where his soul was broken into shards. She was swift, gripping his throat with a hand, lifting him from the mats, and it was then that he could feel the aches of his body. Blood trickled down the side of his mouth, his right cheek was swollen, and his eye was closed shut. He tried to kick, but she stopped that with ease, catching his leg and launching him across the room. With a thud he would roll, attempting to regain his feet as he had done before in the present, yet he would merely flop over and roll once more.

It seemed that his leg had also been broken at some point; the pain was amazing, sending a starburst of color into the darkness behind his eyelids. Yet he did not scream. Reaching back he found a single kunai, one he had tossed some time previous perhaps, and his tiny hand enclosed on it. She was upon him instantly, her fist striking him in the gut, knocking the wind from his body, yet he would not lose the blade. He swiped at her before rolling to the side, nicking the side of her face, causing her to reel back just enough for escape. Again she was upon him, pounding his little body, knocking the life from blow by blow showing very little compassion. Darkness was starting to creep over his body, but there was no one around to stop her, no one around to care. This was a day he remembered, the day he lost his faith in humanity, the day he became a Devil in heart and body. Suddenly his eyes would flash open, now completely black, his muscles bulging then constricting glowing upon his hand, and he would place the katana between the blow. A line of red would run up his master‘s left forearm, yet she would only grin, stepping away from him as he lost the power to hold the ability any longer. Yet she seemed to be pleased with what she had managed to accomplish. Nameless could not understand what this was to accomplish, traveling through his own memories like this, witnessing these experiences again; the times where he learned the truth of the world. Again everything around him would wobble and fade to black, leaving him in darkness for but a moment, before he would appear within another painful memory. He and a group of his peers stood within a single rundown building, they were sprinting forward, dashing into side rooms and searching the area.

He found that he was doing the same, dashing around a corner, his unnamed katana within his hand and the other upon his waist. Now he was ten, his raven hair wafting behind him, his eyes so alert. His body was struck and he plowed through a wooden wall, the dust surrounding him, splinters covering his exposed flesh; a large shard of wood in his right shoulder. This was the day he learned the secret of Ananta, for if he had not, he would surely have died. Drawing his other blade with his left hand, he fended off a blade that came through the dust, the body of flames technique still activated he was able to hold his opponents at a distance. Backing away with his feet, soon his comrades would explode into the room, launching themselves upon the man who assaulted him. They put up a valiant effort, their various weapons dancing around the man, yet they had all failed and only he was left; he and this man. Raising to his feet, he gazed at the man, their target given his blade. His blade would dance as well, deflected easily by the man, yet this attacker found it hard to strike the young Saiyan. Training seemed to have paid off. The man was swift, moving forward and taking ground from him, but he would not allow himself to die here to this target. Pressed against the wall, he would move aside of a thrust, the katana becoming stuck in the wood; yet he would raise his own. Off with both arms of the man came, severed at the elbow, and then his blade would pass across the throat of this individual. He enjoyed the killing he realized, enjoyed the blood that sprayed from his victims, but what was the purpose of this?

Why show him these memories of his broken spirit? It was then that he realized that there was no man it was only him, as the figure seemed to simply vanish and his entire squad was dead. In a fit a fiery rage hydra like flames exploded from his body bringing forth the being known as Ananta the Never Ending. Meanwhile in reality the woman was helping to guide Nameless through the process. It was anger but he did not yet realize it.

[amatsu]

PL/Tail Weakness

[Gray Callahan]

2000 PL rewarded