Official Campaign Preview - Part II

To read the first part, click here: http://www.infinitedbz.com/t166-official-campaign-preview

Armand grabbed the monk by the top of his skull and lifted him up off the ground. The Saiyan was so massive he made the Xeno warrior look like a mere child in his grasp. Frantic, the monk battered his gut and side with a flurry of rapid kicks and punches. The attacks were all in vain, as Armand withstood them, grinning the entire time.

The grin faded, his face twisting into a malicious snarl. “You are pathetic,” he said. With a single squeeze he popped the monks head like a ripe melon and discarded his corpse behind him. “Where are the real fighters?”

Smoke filled the forest, and he could hear the desperate cries of the enemy as his crew made quick work of them.

“Come now,” Armand bellowed. “You are the mighty Li-Wen monks, the Guardians of the Fist. There must be one of you who has the power to challenge me!”

Blinding light caught the corner of his eye and his scouter beeped, warning him of a large ki signature. The brute turned, only to see a blinding wave of yellow ki baring down upon him. Swinging his beefy arm, he swatted it aside. The wave bent, careening off into the trees. It exploded with blinding flash of light and sent burning hot embers fluttering all around Armand.

“Child's play.”

A single monk stood among the trees, where the blast originated. He gasped for air, his arms slumped at his sides. The monk, upon seeing the Saiyan unharmed, let out a frustrated scream and charge, arriving with a heavy kick.

Armand knew the pathetic bastard had put everything he had into the blast and was amused when he thought a mere kick would do something. The monk's foot hit nothing but air, the massive Saiyan appearing behind him with boisterous guffaw.

Knowing he truly stood no chance, monk's resolved disintegrated and he dashed away, trying to escape into the forest. A buzzing disk of ki flickered to life out of the shadows, dicing the monk in two. Xrill snickered a the bloody mess, spitting on the corpse as he passed by.

“That should be the last of them.”

“This trip is a disappointment,” Armand said. “I was hoping for a real challenge.”

“Who cares? I'd rather not get dirty today Armand. You damn Saiyans, care only about fighting,” Xrill said and shook his little green head. “You might be in luck though. Gorid thinks their elites might be inside of the temple still, protecting the artifact.”

“I hate when they send their canon fodder first. I was hoping they'd amuse us and offer their best warriors. We certainly deserve that much.”

---

The Grandmaster collapsed upon the steps, his twig-like legs no longer able to hold him. His entire body trembled badly as silent tears coursed down his cheeks. He felt nothing. The spiritual energies of his students were gone; not a single one had survived the alien onslaught.

The Li-Wen monks were an ancient order. Each of his students had trained under him for two-hundred years. They had been masters in the art of the Li-Wen style, all hand picked to serve as the Guardians of the Fist. Yet, they had been squashed like insects.

“Grandmaster,” a fierce voice called from behind him. “Allow us to face them. We yearn to avenge the death of our brothers.”

He titled his head, gazing upon the seven warriors dressed in snow-white gis. Unlike the others, their skin was a bright violet, instead of gold, a sign of a Cosmic Destiny. They were known as the Seven, all born from the same womb and linked telepathically. Being the strongest of the Li-Wen Monks, and champions of their world Arak-ul, they had been reserved to protect the artifact at all costs.

“You must protect the Fist,” the Grandmaster said. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“They are coming for it anyway,” one of the Seven stepped forward. When he spoke, he spoke for all of them. They were all one mind. “We can stop them.”

“I think you should take the artifact and run,” the Grandmaster said. “Get it off this world, get it to safetey.”

“We, the Seven, are not cowards.”

“Do you not feel their spiritual energy? Especially the one, his power is far greater than any being I have ever encountered in my four thousand years serving the Li-Wen Order and as a Guardian of the Fist. Many have come to this world to claim the artifact, yet we have always been able to turn them aside.”

“Your fear is understandable Grandmaster,” the Seven said. “But you forget, we were trained by the North Kaioshin in the art of Kaio-Ken. There is no limit to our power. Allow us to fight and we will throw these wretches from Arak-ul and make them regret every thinking they could claim the Fist for themselves.”

He was tired. The Grandmaster could not argue with the Seven. They had been chosen, that was true, and they had endured training he could never imagine.

“Fine. Fight them, but promise me you will not throw your lives away in vain?”

“Trust us. They do not stand a chance.”