Chapter 7: Blood and Gore
The southern continent spread beneath Kakarot like a vast, untouched canvas, an emerald expanse woven with silver rivers and shadowed by towering, ancient peaks. Yet, even from this altitude, his enhanced Saiyan vision pierced through the verdant illusion, detecting the faint traces of life – the warmth of organic bodies, the rudimentary structures clinging to the land like barnacles to a ship. Vegeta's words, a dismissive sneer, still echoed in his mind, fueling a cold, hard resolve that had nothing to do with the mission and everything to do with a deeper, more primal hunger. He would not just clear this sector; he would purify it, leaving a legacy of terror that would make even the Prince of all Saiyans take notice.
The scouting report he received from Nappa to his scouter mentioned five different species on the southern continent. It was basically the same species but their biology had evolved into different tribes on the continent. According to the report.
His first target was a cluster of dwellings nestled in a wide, fertile valley, fed by a winding river. It was a fishing village, he surmised, as he descended, the air growing thick with humidity and the scent of damp earth and drying fish. His landing was controlled, silent, dropping him behind a rise overlooking the settlement. His scouter pulsed – low power levels, hundreds of them, all clustered together. Pathetic.
The villagers, short, stocky beings with scales that shimmered like polished obsidian and wide, luminous eyes, moved about their daily chores, oblivious. They hauled nets from the river, tended to small plots of strange, bulbous plants, and children chased each other, their alien laughter echoing softly. Kakarot walked among them, an alien god of death in their midst, his Saiyan armor a stark contrast to their woven reeds and animal hides. Panic erupted as his shadow fell over the first villager. A shriek, a guttural cry, and then a chaotic scramble as they realized the impossible figure in their midst was no dream.
He let them run for a moment, savoring the primal fear. Then, a single, focused ki blast erupted from his palm, ripping through a communal lodge, reducing it to splinters and a cloud of dust. The explosion silenced the screams, replacing them with whimpers.
An elder, his scales faded and dull with age, hobbled forward, holding up a gnarled hand, his luminous eyes wide with desperate hope. "Stranger! Please! We are peaceful. We have nothing of value. Take what you wish, but spare our lives!"
Kakarot's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Nothing of value? Oh, but you do. You have your lives. And your fear. And your… women." His gaze swept over the cowering females, some clutching their children, others standing frozen, their large eyes fixed on him in terror. "Tell me, old man," he purred, his voice a low growl, "do you value your daughters? Your wives? Enough to… entertain me?"
The elder's face contorted in disbelief and horror. "Entertain? We do not understand…"
Kakarot chuckled, a chilling sound devoid of mirth. "Oh, you will. Gather all your fertile females. And have them… present themselves. Show me their bodies. All of them. And perhaps," he paused, letting the word hang heavy with false hope, "I might consider letting a few of you live. Perhaps even your precious little ones."
The villagers exchanged terrified glances. The elder, tears streaming from his large eyes, tried to protest, but a younger male, driven by a desperate, misplaced hope, pushed through. "We will! We will do whatever you say! Just spare us!"
Within minutes, a terrified group of female villagers, their scaled bodies trembling, was pushed forward. They were ordered to shed their simple coverings. Kakarot sat on a fallen log, watching, a gleam in his eyes, a perverse enjoyment in their humiliation. He made them turn, made them pose, his gaze lingering on their every curve, reveling in their shame and terror. Their breasts, their hips, their delicate, membranous wings that some possessed – all laid bare under his indifferent, yet intensely scrutinizing eyes. He laughed, a low, guttural sound, as one particularly young female, barely past adolescence, collapsed in a fit of sobs, trying to cover herself.
"Pathetic," he scoffed. "Did you truly believe that simple display of flesh would save you?"
Their faces, already etched with terror, now contorted in dawning comprehension and despair. He stood, slowly, deliberately. "The truth is, I don't care about your bodies. I simply wanted to see the hope drain from your eyes one last time."
With a casual flick of his wrist, a thin, razor-sharp beam of ki sliced through the air. The young female who had wept was the first to fall, bisected cleanly from shoulder to hip, her entrails spilling onto the riverbank in a steaming pile. A collective shriek of horror erupted, but it was quickly cut short. Kakarot moved with blurring speed, a whirlwind of fists and feet. He tore through the assembled females, dismembering, decapitating, crushing. Scaled flesh ripped, bones snapped with sickening wet cracks, and crimson blood, a startling vibrant red against their obsidian scales, sprayed in gushing arcs. He reveled in the geysers of gore, the way their bodies exploded under his blows, painting the ground and the remaining villagers in a macabre fresco of death.
He didn't stop there. He pursued the fleeing villagers, toying with them. He'd let them think they were safe, only to unleash a concentrated blast that incinerated them from the inside out, leaving only smoking husks. He pulled children from their crying mothers, crushing their small heads in his bare hands before a bewildered scream could even properly form. He impaled men on their own fishing spears, then used their dying breaths as a macabre wind chime. The village became a charnel house, rivers of blood mingling with the actual river, turning the clear water into a murky, horrifying red. When he was done, the only sounds were the crackling of the last burning lodge and the buzz of newly arrived insects drawn to the feast. He stood amidst the carnage, chest heaving slightly, a faint smile on his lips. "Too easy," he muttered, then launched himself skyward, leaving the silence and the stench of death behind.
His scouter, still active, picked up a cluster of slightly higher power levels deep within a dense, bioluminescent forest. These were more resilient, perhaps hunters, he surmised. He found their hidden village woven into the colossal, glowing trees, their homes carved directly into the living wood. The forest floor was covered in a soft, phosphorescent moss, casting an eerie, ethereal glow.
He announced his presence with a thunderous blast that tore through the canopy, showering the forest floor with splinters of glowing wood and terrified screams. The inhabitants, lean, agile beings with bark-like skin and eyes that glowed faintly in the dim light, immediately scrambled to arms, not with futile spears, but with bows that fired crystalline arrows, sharp and vibrating with a faint energy.
Their chief, a formidable figure with intricate tattoos etched into his bark-like skin, confronted Kakarot, a shimmering, razor-edged axe clutched in his hands. "Invader! You defile our sacred home! Leave, or face the wrath of the Emerald Clan!"
Kakarot just laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Wrath? You speak of wrath? Little forest creature, you have no idea what wrath is." He easily deflected a volley of crystalline arrows with a wave of his hand. "I'll give you a choice, chief. Either you and your strongest warriors fight me, and I'll kill you all slowly. Or, you surrender, offer me your… tribute, and I will make your end swift. Perhaps even spare a few of the weaker ones to bear witness."
The chief, seeing the raw, unbridled power radiating from Kakarot, hesitated. "Tribute? What tribute could a god such as you desire?"
"Your females, of course," Kakarot said, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "They look… exotic. Let them come forward, perform for me. Show me their unique charms. Perhaps I'll find one worth keeping alive. A trophy, if you will."
The chief roared in defiance, his axe arcing towards Kakarot's head. "Never! We will die defending our kin!"
"Fool," Kakarot scoffed, catching the axe with two fingers, then twisting it, tearing the weapon from the chief's grasp and sending him sprawling with a contemptuous kick. "You've chosen. And you've chosen poorly for your people."
He began with the warriors, their crystalline arrows shattering against his armor, their axes crumpling against his skin. He moved like a phantom, ripping limbs from torsos, crushing heads with single, precise blows, leaving their living bark-skin bodies a pulpy mess against the glowing moss. One warrior, his gut ripped open, screamed as Kakarot pulled out his intestines like coils of rope, then strangled him with his own viscera.
Then he turned to the cowering females, their glowing eyes wide with terror as they watched their protectors fall. He picked them out, one by one. "Come, little forest sprites," he beckoned, his voice a mocking whisper. "Your chief was a fool. You could have chosen life. But now… now you will simply choose how you die." He made them strip anyway, their bark-like skin strangely beautiful in the phosphorescent light, their fear a palpable scent in the air. He made them dance, a grotesque performance of terror and degradation, before he snuffed out their lives. He used focused ki blasts to carve intricate, burning patterns into their flesh before exploding their heads. He slammed one woman repeatedly against a tree trunk until her body was a shapeless, bloody sack adhering to the bark. He scooped up a child, its glowing eyes pleading, and crushed it slowly, deliberately, between his hands, watching the light fade from its eyes, before casting its remains aside like refuse. The forest, once a haven of subtle light and life, became a tableau of dismembered bodies, the phosphorescent moss now stained crimson, illuminating the horror with an unearthly glow. Kakarot inhaled deeply, the ozone and blood-scent a perverse perfume. This was more satisfying. He liked the fight, even if it was pitifully short.
Next, Kakarot sought out the deepest part of a vast, freshwater lake, sensing a concentration of life beneath the surface. He plunged into its depths, his mask allowing him to breathe effortlessly. At the bottom, a majestic city of coral and iridescent shells shimmered, home to a race of elegant, finned beings whose movements were fluid and graceful.
The Reef Dwellers, with their translucent skin and elaborate fin-like crests, regarded him with a mixture of awe and fear as he landed in their central plaza. Their Elder Council, ancient beings whose fins were long and flowing, confronted him. They spoke in a series of melodic clicks and hums, their message translated by his scouter: "Surface dweller, why do you invade our sanctuary? We offer peace, and the bounty of our waters."
Kakarot grinned, the expression a grotesque mask beneath the shimmering blue water. "Peace is for the weak. I am here for… sport. And to assess your value. And I find you… wanting."
He noticed the females of their kind, their translucent skin revealing intricate bioluminescent patterns, their fins delicate and beautiful, moving with mesmerizing grace. He pointed to them. "You have some… interesting specimens. Let the finest among your women approach. Let them show me their… aquatic beauty. Let them swim for me, dance for me. Perhaps their unique allure will sway my decision to spare your… art."
The Elders recoiled, their melodic clicks turning sharp and protesting. "Our women are not for display! They are sacred! We will not defile them for an invader!"
"Then you will die," Kakarot stated simply, his eyes cold. "And your sacred traditions will die with you."
He ripped through their coral city like a shark in a school of fish. His powerful fists shattered coral structures, sending iridescent debris scattering. He grabbed the Elder who had protested, crushing his head between his hands, the translucent skin of the Elder's skull cracking like delicate glass, spilling glowing ichor into the water. The beautiful, fluid movements of the Reef Dwellers turned into frantic, desperate contortions as Kakarot pursued them. He used focused energy blasts that superheated the water around them, boiling them alive in their own environment, their bodies expanding and bursting in grotesque displays of flesh and steam.
He caught the most beautiful of the females, the ones with the longest, most iridescent fins, and tore their delicate wings from their backs, making them writhe helplessly in the water before crushing them slowly. Their bioluminescent patterns pulsed erratically as they died, a macabre light show in the dying moments. He relished the sight of their translucent skin tearing, revealing the vivid organs beneath, the bubbling blood escaping in clouds to drift slowly upwards. He impaled them on sharpened coral spikes, creating a horrifying underwater garden of death. The elegant city became a graveyard, its delicate beauty now a backdrop to a scene of unimaginable butchery. He rose from the depths, dripping water and ichor, leaving a trail of death in his wake.