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RIP Akira Toriyama. The legend of your being will never be forgotten.


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This article, Dragon Ball: Ages Past, is the property of Tevinter.

Prologue: Inner Flame[]

The flame burned brightly. The countless men who owed their allegiance to None lined up to give their offering. They approached the flames, and wounded themselves, offering the blood to the fires. Their devotion was judged by the blood spent. A token offering was a prick on the finger, while the fanatics often gave their lives, leaping into the flames.

They were watched by None. Those who gave token offerings glanced at it fearfully, but it made no move. The zealots, shortly before their leap, gazed hopefully at it, hoping for a trace of approval. They got nothing.

The religion was a lie of course. It fabricated fanciful tales of salvation and preservation only because it made its task easier. It had suffered this procession once a week for almost two-hundred years now. It had lived far beyond its years thanks to the fire.

Many decades prior, when it had a name, it served the Wizard. It had only scatter memories of its time serving the Wizard and times before, and those memories gave it peace. Bloodshed, destruction, war. But to what cause?

Chapter 1: Recollections[]

"There's something missing," said Bibidi.

The short creature stood in front of a monstrous machine. It was large, and fashioned in the likeness of a twisted face. It opened into a gaping mouth and angry-looking eyes, and peaked with horns. Bibidi kept trying to light it with magical fire.

"What is it exactly?" inquired Sarem.

"It is a furnace," contested the Wizard.

"Yes, I figured that much out. But why do we need a furnace?" he pestered.

"It isn't a regular furnace you baffoon! It is an idea that came to me in a dream. It... saps the power from victims and the flame burns brighter. It is imbued with their energy. I plan to use it to supply the power for my ultimate weapon," said Bibidi.

"That doesn't seem wise. If he relies on the sacrifice of others to maintain his power supply, he has a pronounced weakness," said Sarem.

"It is but a temporary solution. Now begone from my sight! Enough pestering!" Bibidi shouted.

Sarem walked outside to where his companion, Shemlar, was sitting.

"It's about time," said Shemlar.

"What do you mean?" asked Sarem.

"We're supposed to go to Fredges to gather power for Lord Bibidi," he said.

Sarem hated Shemlar's gift of foresight. He was always one step ahead, and was always ready for your next move.

"Men! If I cannot get the furnace working, we will need to reply on our more rudamentary forms of power gathering. Go, drain power from some ilk on the planet of Fredges. They have moderate power, and they will make good bulk," said the Wizard as he exited their lair.

Shemlar simply glanced haughtily at Sarem as they stood and made their way to the spaceship. Bibidi seemed off for some reason. He wasn't his usual cruel, sadistic self. Something was deeply troubling him.

It glorified in slaughter. Bloodshed brought back memories of when it had a name. It had a name. Its name was... Its name...

The duo stood in a seemingly empty village. "They knew we were coming, maybe?" said Sarem.

"No, it's not that. Something isn't right here," said Shemlar.

They walked around the village, checking all the buildings for habitation. They looked like they had been empty for weeks. Shemlar reached into his bag and pulled out his kili reader. It pointed them in the direction of a large peak, where several power levels seemed to be clustered. Most of them were hardly picked up on the scale, but a few stood out.

The duo took off in direction of the power levels. They passed incredible devastation on their way. Forests were cut down, lands were burned, villages were destroyed. It looked like the natives had been at war for several decades. And yet, some signs told otherwise. In graveyards, the once-silent pits had been upturned and the bodies were moved.

When they reached the peak they found why. Millions of bones lay scattered throughout the rocks. Remains of countless inhabitants, picked clean. Whatever had taken them had an insatiable hunger. Shemlar and Sarem landed amongst the bones and began meandering their way through piles of bone.

They worked there way up to a cave entrance, which was surrounded by cracked and broken bones, as if they were constantly trodden by passers by. They entered the cave.

Inside was a horrible sight. There were more remains, but some of which had not been cleaned. Rotting corpses lay throughout. They passed through a few tunnels into a large natural foyer. And there sat a monstrosity.

It was large; well over twelve feet tall. It had four arms coming from its sides, and two smaller arms coming from the sides of its head. Its skin was pink and raw, like a baby rat. It had a human-like face, but a visage that seemed like it was constantly screaming; its eyes and mouth open wide. It was caked in the dried blood of the ages. It sat on a mound of bodies and fed.

"P-please.... you have to help us," said a man, as he crawled out of the pile. Some of them were still alive...

This brought the thing's attention onto the Majin. It rose from its perch, and, to their immense surprise, it spoke.

"I never thought that mortals would so willingly enter my nest," it said.

"Who... what are you? A demon?" asked Sarem boldly.

"I am nothing, save I am fear. I am your nightmares incarnate," it drew closer to them, its lumbering steps shaking the cave.

"There is much light in you. It will feed us for a long time!" it said.

It reached out for Shemlar, but he jumped back. He took a quick reading. Its kili was minute. With a nod, he gave the okay for them to attack.