The sun had started its downward climb. Every standing person was breathing heavily, save for six unmoving rejects. They stood alone untouched by blood or the harsh kiss of boney skin.
There was a disheveled and bearded one, with a jagged line carved into his armored torso. An indication that he was 1, one might assume he was the first. He was lanky like the rest of the adult rejects, although he was one of the rare few who had facial hair. Standing around like he was loitering where he did not belong, hands at his side and if he had pockets they would be in them.
Aside from him two of the new rejects that joined were practically blue in the face from practicing holding their breaths. 455 was scanning the whole battle, watching for something that didn't seem horrible to experience. 456 could already tell his friend that there wasn't a good experience to be had here. Regardless, the latter had been frozen looking for a place or a time to involve himself.
456 kept lifting and placing his foot down. Scraping it forward and then back. Like he wanted to move forward only to settle back. His hands trembled at his sides.
The last three were a little bit ahead of him; the shiny heads of 7 17 and 77 slick with sweat. Their hesitation wasn't warrant as much as the newbies. Especially 7 who essentially led this little group of trembling cowards. All of them had undoubtedly been through dozens of battle royals and this is how they act.
The burly man after eliminating the pest that had bothered him started to scan his surroundings. His eyes landed on three heads that stuck out like a sore thumb. Each shuddering under the realization they are now their next target.
It has occurred to the little gang of their that the wall of bodies keeping them safe had begun to collapse. Each step the burly man took towards them a beat closer to combat they dreaded.
The disheveled looking reject kept a close eye on the interaction between the invading failure and the bald rejects. Just as he was preparing to step forward he noticed out of the corner of his eye another reject step first.
456 had firmly planted a foot forward for the first time. His expression was that of deep hesitation, yet his body acted.
Number 1 had slightly reeled his head back in amusement as if taking his intent to act back. Suddenly finding the idea unnecessary, acting so hastily. "They're really angry this time.." he mutters to himself, not a soul able to hear it.
His attention moved over to another ongoing fight. The only woman that dropped down the prior night, finally got her second wind after getting blindsided. He had watched as she struggled with the now dwindling crowd. Her broken nose had him on edge. The thought of ("would she retaliate harshly?" ) crossed his mind.
Number 69, the woman with long legs and a chest piece with a missing shoulder, no longer obsessed over her double leg attack. Her drop kicks had stopped coming
Replaced with rough kicks and ragged breaths.
69 kicked high. Blocked. She just barely stumbled back, as a counter scratched her c cheek. The knuckle cutting her as she launched in with a mid kick.
The woman caught the kick, lacking traction on the ground she slid about an inch back. Gripping the woman sole unwilling to let go. She pulled her in close. A follow up kick was not what she expected.
The reject went for the regardless of if it made sense or not. Twisting her body and kicking at the failures head with her free leg.
The failure just let go of the boot she held with one hand and blocked the momentum of the incoming haphazard attack. The result was the woman pushing her adversary forward and entirely off balance. When she expected her to fall to the ground on her back, she leaned in to finish the job with a strike.
69 wasn't just going down that simply. She crashed into the ground only to push off of it from a handstand position. Not some clean return, but she pushed back right into the woman. Her feet planted firmly into her chest as the counter landed squarely.
The woman felt her eyes bulge as her guard down meant the kicks would hit her for serious damage. All she could do was take it, having leaned in for an attack already. Getting launched by these legs once again. This time she rode the pain and tumbled back landing in a crouched position dripping spit and blood from her mouth and nose.
Gripping at the gravel to ground herself from the pain, she watched as the reject scrambled to her feet. A wild grin met a similar yet wounded one; the latter holding so much real danger behind it.
Kicking off the gravel sending rocks flying everywhere, the woman's ridged hair swept back due to her gaining momentum. Each step helped her regain more and more composure. Her fingers stretched and a quarter clenched; bent into claws now instead of fists meant for striking.
She was going to hold the reject and wail on her. Her arms raised in a direct confrontation where strength would be in her favor.
Number 69 wasn't going to just accept this approach. Her counter was intertwining their fingers together in a test of strength.
"Awww, don'tcha ya know..grrrhh.. matin us rejects is strictly off limits. Thanks for startin so gently, but–" 69's sharp voice teased in between grunts of effort she put into the test of strength. The focus she needed to put into her pushing made her cut off the banter entirely.
With her fingers locked all she could do was go along with this charade. Her adversary's grunts were met with her own as they both used their last gasp of their full effort. Eventually it was 69 who was getting pushed back. The gravel crunching and dragging under foot. Her experience and training just paled in comparison.
Then suddenly the woman felt all the tension release like she hadn't just been pushing a boulder. Her fingers were still locked. She was falling foward–no the reject had stopped pushing and pulled back. Time slowed briefly as she realized two painfully familiar boot soles were shooting towards her chest.
69 had fallen back and spread her arms as she recklessly performed a front drop kick this time. As it connected the both of them released their grip. She had fallen into her upper back and shoulders before tumbling back in a prone position.
Number 1 had been observing this and he watched as the woman hit the ground. He heard her agonize and slam her fist into the ground like an angry baby.
"F*ck!" She roars over her own pain. At this point she didn't even want to look at the damage that was done to her sternum at this point. "I'm done with your damned legs"
Both of them had made it to their feet. From a glance you wouldn't be able to differentiate who is the reject and who is the failure.
It's when a breath rasped that the long legged woman dashed towards her.
The woman prepared for the reject's approach. She was going to make good on her words; to be thoroughly through dealing with the damned kicking power on those lanky limbs.
As 69 foolishly leapt in the air, the woman who didn't belong there proves who does. The moment she left the ground the gears in the woman's head turned.
Turns her body to dodge the obvious attack. When it whiffs immediately she stomps her leg down onto the side of the rejected leg with crushing force.
69's eyes widened as he looked in horror. The bone in her leg felt like it had cracked, like something had torn.
"Aaaaahhh" she screeched, unable to stop the pain leaking past her gritted teeth.
"So stupid" she mocks while picking her foot back up to cripple the rejected other knee.
When the leg came down, number 69 was able to get away. Rolling through the gravel on instinct. The randomly shaped pebbles crunching against the surface of a much more painful internal wound. The pain made her push. Lifting herself just barely to a wobbly plank position. One of her legs clearly was unable to support any weight; it was dangled while the other three limbs did all the work.
The woman didn't even hesitate to reel her foot back. When it came crashing in, a body placed itself between the two. A teen sized female saiyan launched off 69's body and flew back without an explanation.
Number 69 got knocked back–harmlessly thanks to the kid. Still she landed on the bad leg and couldn't rise immediately. The woman responsible for this harsh injury looked over once again. No monologue or venom, just her fist into a pained grin.
Thump
In a downward arc the woman fist crashed into 69 and sent her face to the floor. Blood splattering just ahead of them. Even after gasping for her breath she didn't stop there. Grabbing the reject by her hair she lifted her up. Slamming a fist into her face to purposefully break her nose.
Crack
Crack
Crack
Several strikes continue as the rejected face is molded by the bones beneath the woman's skin. Blood dripped out of her face like a sponge squeezed to dry.
Number 1 couldn't look away from this mess. It was much worse than the last few times. He believed the woman would have her fill after pummeling his peers face, but her arm reeled back again. The sounds coming from her strikes started to become gruesome.
He watched this, but as he looks over he sees the burly man ravaging the three bald fools. The youngest gripped by the throat and the two older ones crumpled to the ground. On their knees prepared to beg for mercy. Something they had witnessed ages ago.
Number 77 was gasping for air and struggling under the grip of the burly man. The failure seemed to stop caring about the rules though his haze of exhaustion. Each of the rejects felt as though some bone in their bodies were broken. They just couldn't pinpoint where they were under all this terrifying pressure.
In an instant he had made a decision. Tackling the woman with ridged hair. His shoulder slamming into the small of her back as he hit. Wrapping his arms around her as she hit the ground face first. No one had expected the man to act–or rather they stopped anticipating it.
The woman didn't even get the chance to break the fall as she slammed straight into the gravel. The pain, adrenaline, and fury drained from her as she lay limp on the ground.
***
While one failure fell another was dealing with the remaining unscathed combatants.
The burly man had mopped the floor with the bald headed trio. It helped that they were utter cowards who froze at the sight of being targeted. Being targeted by someone they clearly knew to be stronger.
456 watched them, the guys who had hazed him day in and out getting slaughtered by this patchy haired man. His arms looked like twice–no three times the size of his own.
The burly man had them on the ground and started kicking them around like used ragdolls.
456 didn't enjoy the sight. Just like he didn't enjoy seeing 455 getting beaten. Just like he disliked Zukki getting beaten down. This strong dislike gave him a spark of something. Taking small steps weren't going to work, hesitation would lead to regrets.
("Don't push..") He told himself as his legs began to carry him toward the man hazing the hazers.
Gravel crunched underfoot as he jumped into the air with all the strength could muster. He could make it to the man's torso and he was approaching rapidly through the air. His fingers like claws as he intended to ("grab!") as he yells it in his mind.
Thinking his body and mine were working as one he cried out at the last second, a determined pup roared.
"You think I'll fall for that kinda weak sh*t again?" The burly laughs out as he back fists 456.
Smack
The backhand hits like the most disrespectful slap imaginable as the reject's conviction snubbed before it could rage forward. The reject hit the ground harshly.
Across the yard 455 witnessed his friend act and his breath hitches. A terrible feeling washed over him as he kept his eyes on the fight. He watches as Jagger staggers to his feet. The person who knocked him to the floor moved towards number 1.
Jagger scanned his surroundings and looked to see the burly man looking over at another. Three others who were unhurt earlier sprawled about with injuries and blood marking them as finished. He holds his head to nurse a growing headache.
The sun has made it about three-fourths of the way across. The descent is clear now.
Jagger had already made his first move, nerves deciding for him that he had entered this battle. Though he didn't seek immediate revenge and instead directed his frustrations towards the burly man.
Another sneak attack. This time from jagger as he practically mirrored 456's efforts, except for his attack. He threw a flying punch rather than trying to scale the man like a mountain.
Smack
"again with this!?" he simply swatted the next fly to enter his personal space.
Jagger hit the gravel, groaning just a level about the crunchy surface.
("At this rate am i going to be the only one to not experience this?") His inwardly question itself breaks the dam in his mind. He didn't enjoy anything he saw nor did he find the desire in him to replicate it.
455 couldn't motivate himself to find the patterns and understand the principles. What he saw in his ignorant mind's eye; variations of attacks he's felt personally on his body. ("Would applying that same pain to others really be something worth learning") He further contemplated.
I small pattern did form as he felt forced to observe the Burly man act the exact same way twice in a row. Only walking forward, he decides to test this theory out. His gait was deeply hesitant, like each step wanted to reverse time itself to come back to safety.
His steps were slow and the crunching of the gravel was much less noticeable compared to everyone else. The hesitation in each step cooled the minefield of rocks that would let anyone know someone was being them. Still it wasn't as if the young reject was building resolve or clenching muscles. Only when he was near the back of the Burly man did he exhale.
His breath ragged and chest tight as he agonized over this stupid decision. Curiosity beating out his sense of danger.
("Well..i hope it doesn't hurt too much..") He hesitates one last time before purposefully crushing the gravel beneath his feet.
He crouches like is preparing to leap and waits. He only has to wait less than a second as the burly man reacts.
"Stupid..fly.." his hand meets air and it confuses him.
In the next moment after clenching his fist at his side, he appears up and in front of the burly man's face. A flash of the instructor beating the newly released crossed his mind. His scared weary face and clenched teeth did not mirror his actions. Throwing a surprisely vicious punch he learned from watching the instructor from a month ago.
The burly man felt some nerves build in that instance. He had gotten outplayed. Because he was acting high and mighty, he let a reject counter him so decisively.
It's disappointing to him that as it struck his cheek the force lacked any weight behind it. It practically slid down his face as two pairs of eyes looked at 455 with shock.
455 was now standing on the ground after landing, looking up at the man he had beaten.
The burly man laughed something hearty. "Ok that's a start.. I'm just not playing these games kid" his laughing grin turns to a frown as his threat washed over 455.
The Scruffy haired kid stepped back. It was too late for that approach now; the kid was well aware of that. Worse yet his bravery is gone. Curiosity utterly drained.
It was a moment of reprieve that the Burly didn't appreciate. Taking one step closer before shifting his weight back. A kid flies past his face.
456 was dodged from the corner of the Burly man's eye.
Then as if wanting revenge jagger took this moment to jump in again. Getting slapped back as a result. With less force due to continuous distractions.
455 went in only to be dodged again, this time by a forward bent head.
The Burly man really just ignored the reject behind him for the one who actually did something. Catching the boy by the back of his armor piece.
He then whipped him straight into one of the other rejects. It was Jagger, and their heads collided. Both boys briefly backed out.
Even though he had no decoys to act safely, number 456 leapt into action. Grabbing and instead of punching. He grabbed the man by his armor only to be looked at like a fool.
The burly man crashed his head into the bridge of the rejects nose breaking skin and causing blood to flow down his face as his grip released. The reject hit the ground with a thump before the man looked out at the rest of the battles.
He looked up at the sky and recognized time was marking firmly forward.
***
After number 1 had blindsided the woman who took down number 69 he stood up. The woman with the long legs is now crumpled to the ground, sweating, bleeding, and is just barely keeping her consciousness through the pain. Despite all this and getting saved a whole lot more pain she glared at the man.
Her eyes bore holes through him with a look that screamed she didn't want the help he provided. Too bad the disheveled man's focus was elsewhere.
The mohawked saiyan was barring down on him. He was the next target for the brash guy. As they locked eyes it seemed unavoidable.
Number 1 glanced at the scene behind the approaching man. Then darted to the sky before his stance became firm. Feet sliding against the gravel as his stance widened. He was preparing for the incoming attack.
Mohawk, even with his head throbbing, still prepared to leap into battle once again. His fist flying into the crossed arms of the reject he targeted.
Wham
"Haa..they're rejectes old men..ha.." Mohawk muses through gasps of air. His fist planted on stacked firearms.
The lack of movement was concerning, but the man with a line of spikes for hair lost the ability to focus on the details in battle. Blood caked all over his face.
When no counter came he didn't hesitate to attack again. Mohawk cocked his fist back, the left one this time, and while pulling back the first he drove the second lower into the man's stomach.
The punch felt hollow as it hit home. Yet the reject crumpled like he was devastated by the attack. Leaving Mohawk mostly stunned at the sudden end; especially when he thought he saw something interesting in the disheveled man's eyes.
When he turned around the reddish pink gravel was covered in dark spots and bodies. At this point there were only a dozen or so even left standing to fight. Some get up, but in action they are just swatted away.
While the sun fell, Mohawk traded blows with various rejects. His adrenaline carried his body like a puppet on a string. He had to take down even 25 once again, his little lackeys tried some too and this time he wouldn't let them.
The woman who got blindsided twice regained her consciousness. With both her assailants firmly on the ground the desire to get them back fizzled. Leaving this hell hole was her priority to begin with. That meant returning to her passive stance.
The sun kissed the horizon.
***
As the white lights came on to illuminate the encroaching darkness the two figures above slowly started to make their descent.
A woman stood up from the blood stained gravelly surface. Her arms and legs shaking from the pure exhaustion. Long spikey hair sticking to her armorless back. Body suit torn in random places. Through heavy breaths she witnessed the final moments of the battle royal.
The burly man had been badgered by a random assortment of rejects. 450, 455, and 456 incidentally keeping him from attacking other rejects who couldn't take any more punishment. Arms and legs swung, fists cut and bruised skin. Ultimately the toddlers were no match.
The woman watched with heavy breaths as the boy with a spikey crown of hair fell first. Well, he was the first to stay down. A strike landing flush on his chest that he could not avoid. The following exchange left 455 with his face in the gravel. Finally 450 had been knocked out by a second punch after barely dodging a first.
They had fought him with some other random stragglers for at least an hour.
The lights bore down as two shadows were cast across the remaining four saiyans.
A woman with cold eyes and ridged shoulder length hair.
A burly man with patchy hair; arms the size of cannons.
A lean brash man with a Mohawk for his natural hair style.
A reject!?
The two descending saiyans observed this conclusion with distaste. They wouldn't even touch the ground where this filth lived. Before they could fully descend, to where they felt proper, another body emerged.
The fourth failure, the pathetic one, scanned the remaining participants. His body clearly was not wrecked with injuries like the rest, yet as he moved pain rocked his intent. The weakest link in the group of four had to be taken down. It was his only chance.
The woman watched as the healthiest fighter standing closed the distance. She watched him cock his fist back. Seeing it drive into the back of..
"Guahhh!" Mohawk's eyes went shaky as his mouth gaped. Spitting out saliva and whatever else was left.
As she watched the man fall to his knees the person responsible looked horrified by his actions once he realized, yet a steeling glint took over that made her wince. If either of them came after her she wouldn't be able to defend a direct confrontation.
Instead of just fixing his mistake, the failure who slithered his way into the final four doubled down. Kicking at the man with the Mohawk who glared at him. They aren't comrades; nothing dictated they respect each other. It was formed out of convenience and now shatters for so.
When the two observing saiyans finished their descent. Both thoroughly bored though one had a raised eyebrow at the results.
"You four, congratulations you get to leave." The female voice announced.
".." the male observer shook his head with a scoff. "Let's just drop these off. Send some people to pick up the Broken ones."
The second observer flew in and took the female and Burly man by their armor.
Each of them were pretty much thrown into this event. The awkwardness of being carried is the last thing on their minds.
The female grabbed the coward and then she flew over to grab the reject. Recognizing the fact that this girl was formally a reject and would now be going to the front lines.
The reject looked utterly dumbfounded as she was grasped. They flew away and all she heard was the mutterings of the passenger beside her. The image of the rejection base started to fade into the distance.
Most of the rejects and Mohawk were knocked out. One was keenly aware of the results.
***
The lights only remained on when the aliens came in to pick up the marked rejects who needed bare minimum recuperating. Lethal blows were against the rules, but even the king himself disdainfully recognizes weakness.
Heading this search was a purple triceratops woman. Usually all bubbly and smiling, now with a grimace on her face. With a scouter on her face she found the rejects we were injured. Then she came across ones who were badly injured yet weren't marked.
"This one" she kneels to a certain long legged woman.
Her tail is stiff as a board as she cries out silently. A torn knee that the woman agonized over until she passed out. Even so she was not marked.
"But she isn't marked and-" The alien following Būdo protested only to be cut off with a hand. The ground is getting slapped by a thick tail.
"Just speak to DaiDai, he'll open up some healing chambers if you mention me" the purple woman responded sweetly.
A sigh follows as a stretcher-like object lifts the injured reject. This proceeded several times before the stretchers ran out and so did the patience of a certain orange alien who called to complain.
"B-b-Būdo! What's this I hear you offering up my chambers to..to..rejects. do you.." he stops himself to breathe on the other line.
"Oh, Mister Dai~" she starts all playful, although her face was anything but. "The higher ups always approve healing pods for excessive use..or so the policy goes. Annnd you owe me one now don't you Mister..Dai!" She punctuated his name in a way that made the orange aliens audible blush somehow.
"Just don't make this a habit" he responds quickly before ending the line.
That was it for the stretchers. There were no more opportunities for healing pods. Thankfully for her kind soul the ones that needed it were already on their way to the help they needed.
Though as the light turned off and her night visions worked it's magic. Two boys were her personal Targets. Yes she had her own agenda. A certain student of hers and his precious friend.
Those two she carried easily back to the infirmary. A third boy looked on with hazy disdain.
The battle Royal had officially ended as the Light shut off and disappeared.
_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
(A/N) Happy new year everyone who is here in the future with me! The battle Royal is officially over and the next chapter will be a short epilogue ending the first volume. The second will begin right after. Let know what you liked and didn't. I saw that one comment and I will say that I understand what you mean. So if you got here just know that this story will have multiple leads.