Aethelgard’s serene amber sky was violently disturbed. Two energy trails—one a crackling, unstable gold, the other a sharp, focused silver—ripped through the morning calm high above the Citadel’s floating islands, leaving ozone crackles that startled flocks of iridescent sky-rays below into panicked scattering.
Jax, a wild grin plastered across his face, carved recklessly through the latticework of a kilometre-high crystal spire dedicated to serene contemplation. "Hah! Eat my cosmic dust, slowpoke!" he bellowed over his shoulder.
He barely registered the silver streak that blasted past him, Vex’s trajectory shearing clean through the ornate corner of a "sacred" light-bridge connecting two spires miles below. Fractured crystal, shimmering like captured starlight, rained down onto a lower terrace where several robed Aethelgardian scholars scattered, their bioluminescent skin flashing an agitated crimson. One shrieked about compromised structural harmonics.
“Slow. Weak. Pathetic,” Vex’s voice drawled through Jax’s scouter, the transmission distorted by speed. He hung upside-down for a fraction of a second, silver ki flaring, before rocketing away again.
“Oh, it’s ON!” Jax roared, accelerating in pursuit.
Their race became a tour of cultural destruction, a high-speed demolition derby through millennia of Aethelgardian artistry. Jax spotted a massive, ornate prayer lantern drifting slowly between towers, its surface etched with reliefs depicting celestial harmony. Looked flammable. He body-checked it hard, the impact sending him spinning but igniting the delicate moon-vine ropes holding it aloft. The lantern plummeted, crashing into a meticulously cultivated "Singing Garden" below, where the impact and Jax's lingering ki instantly wilted the sound-sensitive flora into gray mush, silencing centuries of cultivated melody.
Not to be outdone, Vex used a slender crystal spire—one rumored to have taken centuries to magically grow into perfect resonance—as a slingshot point, banking hard off its peak. His boot left a deep, jagged crater near the top, disrupting millennia of carefully balanced energy flow. On a nearby balcony, a noblewoman shrieked, less in fear and more in pure aesthetic outrage. "My serenity spire! Do you know how long that took to resonate?!" she screeched at the vanishing silver blur.
Jax laughed, then decided to add his own artistic touch. Focusing ki, he fired a wild, looping golden blast, crudely sketching a massive, glowing dick-shaped comet against the amber clouds dominating the sky above the Spire of Eternal Reflection. "Behold! My masterpiece!" he crowed.
Vex didn't even slow down. A single, needle-thin silver beam lanced out from his fingertip, effortlessly vaporizing the ki graffiti. "Accurate," Vex's voice crackled over the comms. "Small. Like your brain."
"Why you—!" Jax dove low, aiming to cut Vex off near a floating construction platform where Aethelgardian workers were carefully maneuvering a 20-ton block of polished moon-marble into place for the new "Harmony Plaza."
"OUTTA THE WAY, TWINKLES!" Jax roared as he shot past, fifty feet below the platform.
"Great Flowing Light, what is th—" one worker yelled, startled by the sonic boom. His hand slipped on the anti-gravity controls. The failsafe triggered instantly. The massive marble block dropped like a stone—directly onto Jax's upturned face as he glanced back to flip Vex off.
CRUNCH.
Marble dust exploded outwards. Jax flew through it, spitting out grit. He chewed thoughtfully for a second. "Huh. Tastes like chalk."
He didn't notice the construction workers who had fainted in perfect, synchronized unison on the platform above, their skin pulsing a panicked error magenta. His only thought was catching Vex.
He prepared to clothesline his brother straight into a nearby waterfall made of pure light when—
SNIFF.
Jax froze mid-air. His nose twitched. That smell... Rich. Savory. Meaty. Like... like his own Mom used to make after grueling training sessions back home, a rare moment of comfort. The unexpected memory hit harder than the boulder, overridden instantly by pure Saiyan hunger. His stomach roared.
"Later, Vex," he muttered, abruptly changing direction without explanation. "Snack time." He rocketed towards a slender residential spire two sectors over, zeroing in on the source of the delicious miasma.
Vex hovered for a moment, watching his twin streak away. He blinked. "...Did that idiot just follow his stomach mid-fight?" He scoffed, shaking his head. Pathetic. He scanned the city below, eyes narrowed, searching for something, anything, more interesting than architecture appreciation.
(Scene: Dinner and a Show)
Jax floated outside the window of the needle-thin tower, 200 stories up. Inside, a golden roast, easily big enough to feed a small army, steamed invitingly on an emperor-sized table. The scent was divine. He tapped the delicate, ivy-framed glass. “Hello? Takeout?” No answer. With an impatient sigh, he flicked the window—it dissolved into glittering dust. “Oops. Your security’s trash.”
The apartment was nauseatingly pristine: polished marble floors, levitating cutlery arranging itself, even a chandelier that seemed to be made of living, sentient ice humming softly. Jax ignored it all, plopped into an ornate chair (his boots instantly scorching the plush rug beneath), and ripped a leg off the roast beast. Juice dripped down his armor plating. “Needs garlic,” he mumbled around a huge mouthful, “but decent.”
A high-pitched gasp echoed. Jax glanced up, mid-chew. A tiny Aethelgardian woman stood frozen in the doorway, wearing some kind of silken robe, her elaborate hair curlers practically vibrating with rage. “HONEY?! THERE’S A… A CAVEMAN EATING THE CHANDELIER!”
Still with the chandelier? Jax thought, taking another bite of roast.
Her husband, impressively tall for an Aethelgardian and bare-chested, stormed in brandishing a pearly white energy pistol that looked suspiciously like a decorative hairdryer. “OUT, HEATHEN! And leave the light fixture alone!”
He fired three rapid warning shots. Pew! Pew! Pew! The energy pellets bounced harmlessly off Jax’s forehead like misthrown popcorn kernels.
Jax swallowed the massive chunk of meat, looking thoroughly annoyed. “You done interrupting my meal?”
The husband, aiming for his eye this time, fired again. Pew!
Jax didn’t even flinch. He caught the glowing crystal pellet between his teeth with an audible clink. He rolled it around on his tongue for a moment, looking thoughtful. “Hm. Tastes like… bad life choices.” Ptooey! He spat the bullet out. It embedded itself deep in the wall right beside the husband’s suddenly pale face, glowing faintly and smelling faintly of ozone and roast beast.
The man dropped his pistol with a clatter. His wife promptly fainted face-first into a nearby lavender soufflé.
Jax sighed, stood, and grabbed the rest of the roast. He tossed a heavy gold coin onto the table. “For the window.” The coin immediately melted a smoldering hole straight through the polished wood table and the floor beneath. He floated backward out the shattered window frame, waving the mostly-eaten roast leg. “Pro tip: brine the meat next time. Bit dry.”
WHOOSH. His launch shattered every remaining window in the apartment, sucked the expensive curtains out into the open air where they promptly ignited from atmospheric friction, and the force wave toppled the sentient ice chandelier directly onto the unconscious wife and the paralyzed husband with a sad, melodic CRINKLE-CRASH.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
Somewhere far below, a child pointed up at the golden streak. “Mama, look! A shooting star!”
Jax’s voice boomed across the entire sector, startling thousands: “I HEARD THAT. IT WAS A COMPLIMENT, RIGHT?!”
(Scene: Vex and the Hostage Situation - FINAL POLISH)
Vex, meanwhile, had descended towards the noisy bazaar level out of sheer boredom. Police skimmers—sleek white things that looked like fragile hover-surfboards—formed a useless circle around a large, ornate crystal transport van. Inside the open back hatch, a desperate-looking criminal held a small, crying Aethelgardian boy hostage, the kid maybe six or seven years old, tears streaming down his pale face. The criminal waved his crude crystal energy pistol.
"Back off! Everyone back off, or the kid gets it!"
On the edge of the police cordon, the boy's mother, an Aethelgardian woman in simple robes, wept hysterically, pleading with the impassive police captain. "Please! Do something! That's my baby! My son!"
The police captain, wearing an ill-fitting helmet, screeched at a rookie fiddling with his console, "Activate the… the… whatever the glowing button does!" The rookie mashed it—a blinding disco strobe light erupted from the skimmer, bathing the tense scene in flashing pinks and greens. The crowd went wild.
"Twenty credits says the armored one kills them all!" yelled a nun from a nearby stall selling smoking talismans.
"Pathetic," Vex muttered again. This whole situation offended his sense of efficiency. He dropped silently, landing weightlessly beneath the van just as the criminals tried to make their escape.
"DRIVE! WHY AREN'T WE MOVING?!" the driver screamed as the van lifted straight up, tires spinning uselessly. Confusion turned to terror inside as the ground shrank rapidly below. "We're... we're going UP?!"
The hostage-taker stumbled near the open rear hatch, holding the crying boy tight. "LET US DOWN! LET US DOWN RIGHT NOW!"
Vex floated into view outside the hatch, casually holding the entire van aloft with one hand, his silver ki aura a faint hum. "Well now," he drawled, peering in. "Making a scene, aren't we?" He ignored their babbling. "Alright, ugly. Here's the deal. Let the kid go now, nice and easy, and I might consider not dropping you into that volcano over there." He gestured vaguely towards a distant, smoking peak.
The criminals looked at each other, then at the terrifying height. "Okay! Okay! Take him!" the hostage-taker stammered, shoving the sobbing boy towards the open hatch.
Like lightning, Vex snatched the child mid-air, holding him securely in one arm while the van remained suspended by his other hand.
"Good choice," Vex smirked at the criminals, who were now begging incoherently. "Now, about putting you down..."
He gave the van an almost gentle push... upwards and outwards with a single finger-flick. It sailed away, gaining speed, tumbling end-over-end towards the horizon.
As it became a distant speck, the criminals’ panicked screams carried faintly on the wind: "LOOKS LIKE WE'RE BLASTING OFF AGAAAAIIIN!" Twinkle.
Vex rolled his eyes. "Amateurs."
(Scene: The Last Moments of Men Who Chose Poorly)
The van tumbled through the thin upper atmosphere. Inside, gravity failed intermittently.
Criminal #1 (Jerry) clawed at his throat, face turning a deep purple. The air was gone. His lungs burned. He tried to scream at his partner, but only silence came out. He saw the reflection of his own bulging eyes in the cracked crystal window. This was how it ended? Not in a firefight, not rich, just... deleted. Like space junk.
Criminal #2 looked at Jerry's silent scream, then at his own hands, which were already prickled blue with frost. The cold seeped into his bones. He wanted to laugh at the absurdity. Stealing a van, taking a kid, getting yeeted into orbit by some silver-haired psychopath. He remembered the first time he’d felt powerful holding that crystal pistol. Now he just felt… incredibly stupid. Aethelgard hung below, a beautiful, impossible jewel. So pretty. So far. His vision darkened. His heartbeat slowed. One last, ragged breath fogged the inside of the freezing van. Then—nothing.
The crystal van drifted, a tomb of frozen flesh and petty regrets, until Aethelgard’s gravity finally reclaimed it days later. It burned apart on re-entry—a brief, bright, unnoticed streak against the dawn sky.
(Scene: Vex's Return & The Aftermath)
Another flicker of light, and Vex was back on the ground, placing the crying boy gently before his weeping mother. She rushed forward and swept him into a fierce embrace, showering Vex with incoherent, tearful thanks. Then, inexplicably, she turned and slapped Vex’s armored arm. “You almost scraped his knees!” she sobbed indignantly.
Vex just stared at her for a beat, utterly perplexed by the reaction.
The betting nun cackled from her stall, waving a fistful of credits. “CALLED IT! ARMOR GUY’S A MENACE!”
The police captain approached, tripping over his own stun-baton which fizzled pathetically. He had hastily pulled on some civilian trousers. “S-Sir! Thank you! But regulations require you file an Incident 12-Z Form regarding… unauthorized application of force and orbital vehicle disposal! And… public indecency!”
Vex let out an exaggerated fake yawn, accidentally exhaling a tiny ki blast that neatly disintegrated the captain’s replacement trousers, leaving him standing in even brighter colored Aethelgardian briefs than before. The crowd oooooh’d appreciatively again.
Ignoring the sputtering captain, Vex just muttered, "Time for a snack," and launched himself back into the sky. He glanced down at the other small Aethelgardian child in the crowd – the one who'd been watching the whole thing, mouth agape. The kid stared up at Vex, eyes shining.
Vex’s disembodied voice echoed seemingly from nowhere: “DON’T.”
(Addendum: Scholar’s Log – Eyewitness Account)
Location: Skyward Observatory Deck 7, Aethelion Citadel
Witness: Master Historian Elric V’lann, 3rd Luminary of Celestial Studies
Time: Just After the Incidents
(Personal Log – Audio Transcription - Voice Trembling):
"By the Flowing Light… by the Amber Sun’s grace… what… what did I just witness?"
(Sound of quill snapping, heavy, shaky breathing)
"In my sixty years of studying crystal harmonics—of documenting the sacred flight patterns of sky-rays, of decoding the resonance language of the First Architects—never… NEVER have I seen such blasphemous defiance of natural law."
"No wings. No magic. No reverence for the sky’s sanctity. Just raw, laughing violence wrapped in mortal flesh."
"They moved like natural disasters with opinions."
"The silver one—cold, precise, carving through our light-bridges like they were cobwebs, treating gravity as a suggestion, weaponizing... origami before finger-flicking sentient beings into the stratosphere! The gold one—chaos incarnate, turning a 20-ton moon-marble into snack dust with his FACE, then breaking into a Tier-Alpha residence, consuming the ceremonial feast, deflecting energy bolts with his teeth, melting the thousand-year-old table with common currency, and destroying priceless sentient ice sculptures on his way out!"
"And the sky-writing. Oh, Flowing Light, the sky-writing. A crude, glowing… phallic symbol over the Spire of Eternal Reflection! Do they understand nothing of resonant frequencies? The purification rituals will take decades!"
(Sound of crystal wine glass shattering against wall)
"I hate them. Not just for their power—no, for their casualness. They treat our world, our history, our laws like a toy they’ve already grown bored with! The energy signatures... they don't align with any known cosmic radiation... closer to the void-echoes mentioned in the Cursed Scrolls about the World Breakers... No, that's impossible... but the readings..." (Sound of frantic tapping on a data slate) "I must log this. Formally. This level of uncontrolled energy expenditure could destabilize the Citadel's harmony matrix!"
"And the worst part?"
(Long pause, whisper)
"...I wish I could be them."
(Log ends with the sound of a Comfort Sphere fizzling, then overloading with a pathetic pop from sheer psychic stress, followed by the faint, distant blare of a parking violation alarm still echoing from orbit.)
(Final Scene: Altos' Summons)
Deep within Aethelion's command spire, Super Elite Altos stood before a vast holographic display showing tactical readouts of the lower tunnels. His expression was, as usual, unreadable, but the slight tightening around his eyes indicated annoyance. A small, floating crystal beside him pulsed rapidly, projecting incoming incident reports directly into his vision – reports detailing shattered light-bridges, damaged spires, vaporized landmarks, civilian panic, orbital debris matching a crystal transport van, and multiple counts of trouser disintegration involving a police captain.
He let out a barely audible sigh. He had hoped giving the twins some leeway upon arrival would burn off excess energy. Clearly, he had underestimated their capacity for causing multi-sector chaos in such a short time. This required correction before they compromised the actual mission.
He raised a hand, and two smaller communication crystals detached themselves from the console, glowing faintly. He keyed in Jax and Vex's specific energy signatures.
"
He paused, letting the command hang in the air.
"
"
Far above the city, Jax, still munching on his stolen roast, froze mid-air. The lazy grin vanished, replaced instantly by a focused, sharp attention. He dropped the remaining food without a second thought.
Across the city, Vex, who had been contemplating using a skyscraper as target practice, also stopped dead, his smirk evaporating. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, quickly replaced by grim acknowledgment.
Separately, but simultaneously, they both nodded curtly to the empty air. Their auras flared briefly – gold and silver – then vanished as they changed direction, rocketing towards Altos's coordinates with newfound, deadly seriousness. The game was up.