Post by Momil on Jun 3, 2019 1:09:10 GMT
Momil Orat
Nicknames/Titles:
The Frozen One
Race:
Sayian (Ancient)
Race Traits:
Zenkai - When a Saiyan almost dies their power potential increases exponentially. When you almost die in a DE/SAGA and survive with less than 5% HP, you feel yourself closer to your next transformation removing 10% of the required PL for your next form. This does not negate mastery or other requirements on that form and only works 3 times per transformation.
Tail Weakness (Mutants and Tropicals only) - A Saiyan’s tail is their true weak point and often a highly guarded part of the Saiyan’s body. The Saiyan tail allows them to absorb blutz waves and transform into the Oozaru form, if this tail is removed they are incapable of accessing these forms until it grows back (which requires an advanced healing chamber or stimulant.) If this tail is grabbed, the Saiyan will be forced into a state of shock that stuns then for a moment and drops their guard substantially (50% PL Drop), Saiyans require 10% less stamina to dodge a grab attempt at their tail compared to other body parts.
Shadow Limbs - Due to the concentrated malicious Ki that has been festering inside of the Ancient Saiyan's body, they possess an interesting ability unseen and untapped by their modern brethren. Upon losing a limb in a thread, the Ancient Saiyan in question may activate this ability and replace the limb with an intangible, untouchable shadow limb that functions identically to the original (including Saiyan tails). While this normally takes one turn to activate, if an Ancient Saiyan is in the Evil Saiyan transformation it is instantaneous. This works once per thread.
Age:
Biologically 25
Gender:
Male
Personality:
If one was to describe Momil in a word, it would be twisted.
When he first awoke from his thousand year-long imprisonment, Momil seemed to be a rather pleasant individual. Unlike his loudmouthed Sayiajin brethren, Momil was quiet, introspective, preferring to listen first before speaking. This wasn’t out of angst or a dark experience, it was simply his preferred mode of operation, perhaps an echo of his time before the ice.
However, after years of being slowly manipulated by his superiors within the Frost Force, this initially self-efficacy has been twisted into a quiet sense of superiority, fanned by countless battles and encounters where Momil has taken victory with almost zero effort. Momil’s ego has inflated massively, and the malicious ki within has grown all the stronger for this darkness, creating an unstable cycle of power and pride.
Aside from this massive issue, Momil has a few other traits that set him even further apart from your garden-variety Sayian. Upon his awakening, Momil found that his hunger for knowledge about his new surroundings was far more acute then his brethren, and he quickly mastered the Frost-sejin tongue in response. Unfortunately, this desire to learn has rather fallen by the way-side as the thrill of combat and the desire to remember who he truly was became all consuming.
All in all, Momil is an abrasive, power-hungry individual that is motivated by two things. The thrill of the brawl, and the desire to fills the holes within his own memory.
Appearance:
History
Prologue: Awakening
Momil’s first memory was one of endless cold, then growing warmth as the millennia-old barrier encasing him and his comrades gradually weakened under the weight of countless decades. Sometimes the ancient Sayian received bright flashes of consciousness, bright and terrifying as all he could feel was the freezing ice encasing him, and the haft of some sort of weapon against his body. The Sayian struggled against his prison, half-conscious and nearly dead, but his cryogenically frozen body was simply too weak to shatter the prison surrounding him. Eventually, these moments of lucidity slipped away, along with the memory of them as Momil and his long-forgotten comrades were buried deeper and deeper into the Lake of Dreaming Nightmares.
So continued this process for thousands of years, until one fateful day when the cycle was broken.
His salvation was announced by a loud thundering roar as the meteor, perhaps guided by fate itself, struck Momil’s icy prison, flash-frying the enormous lake and allowing the Sayians within to feel warmth for the first time in many millennia, not that they were strong enough to appreciate it.
Momil and his comrades were found several hours later, delirious and nearly dead, only surviving due to their Sayian biology, and perhaps the last remnants of their long-vanished power. Momil, buried especially deep within the lake, was one of the worst of these cases, and it took him many weeks to get to the point where he was able to stay awake, much less communicate with the strange lizard-like people around him. When he was finally mustered up the strength to do so, it was quickly discovered that nobody in the hospital could understand him, leaving the ancient Sayian understandably frustrated.
In addition to these physical and cultural challenges, Momil’s mental state wasn’t exactly the prime example of sanity. Every single last remnant of his memories had been mysteriously taken from him, leaving only holes where lessons and cherished moments used to be. Thankfully, Momil still retained a good deal of intelligence, despite centuries of being cryogenically frozen. In addition, the Sayian seemed to have miraculously retained a good deal of his intellectual, physical, social and linguistic skills, although the area that seemed best preserved was his martial prowess.
Even with all of this “luck” it still took a long time for the Sayian to become fully functional once more, and by the time he did most of the other Sayians imprisoned with him were long gone, taking their new armor and vanishing into the endless cosmos in search of answers.
Chapter 1: Rampage
Unlike most of brethren, Momil was far more logical about his current situation then one would perhaps expect of your average Sayian brawler. Sure, he would very much like an answer to who he truly was before his imprisonment, and perhaps what drove him to crash into the Lake of Frozen Nightmares in the first place, but roaming across the stars like a bunch of hapless Brenchian tourists wasn’t exactly going to help matters. Instead, the Sayian decided to stay put for the time being, take on some jobs for the Frost Force, and use it’s power and prestige as a vehicle to find answers.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
The spectacle of the ancient Sayian’s awakening had shaken the entire planet of Frost to it’s core, and many clamored to see the new Sayian recruits into the Frost Force. However, not all of these interested parties were entirely benign, as the Sayian soon learned.
It started with little things, a deployment to capture a ship full of weaklings here, an arena battle to represent the Frost Force there, all things that were of negligible difficulty to the ancient Sayiajin. Momil brought up these concerns to the Frost Demons who commanded him, but these issues were simply brushed off as him being simply too good for any of the normal work grunts such as him were meant for. Slowly, but surely, he moved up the ranks of the Frost Force, taking on missions that seemed to slowly increase in difficulty, but not enough to ever satisfy the Sayiajin.
For their part, his superiors praised every successful mission he completed, showering him with promotions, rewards, and meaningless titles until he too began to secretly believe his superiority. The campaign was subtle, yet masterful, and gave his Frost Demon superiors an extremely potent tool against any rival faction within the Frost Force that opposed them. After all, even if he was initially overwhelmed, a simple application of Blutz Waves made him an unstoppable juggernaut!
Momil grew stronger and more arrogant as time went by, eventually becoming a twisted prideful shadow of his initially quiet self. Only one more thread of the original Sayian remained, the desire to reclaim his old memories, and finally discovered what had happened to him that night so many millennia ago.
It is here our story begins.
Techniques:
[SP] Flight - By utilizing the power of his ki, Momil is able to fly.
[SP-1] Ki Mastery - Due to the loss of his memories, and little reason to sharpen his skills in this area, Momil's ki control skills are very rudimentary in nature.
[SP-1] Zanzoken - By flaring his energy for a brief moment, Momil is briefly able to greatly increase his speed, leaving an afterimage in his place.
[ST -1] Shadow Striker - Momil channels a good deal of his mysterious shadow energy in his fist, allowing him to punch things with deadly force! When this technique is active, or is charging, a shadowy aura can be seen around Momil's arm. [1-33% PL, Stamina]
[ST-2] Savagery of the Shadow - Taking the concept of the Shadow Striker one step further, Momil draws upon his ancient ki to crate a large demonic looking arm around his own, tipped with razor sharp claws which he uses to strike at an opponent. [1-66% PL, Stamina, Slashing]
[Ki-1] Entropic Barrier - Momil creates a spherical red ki barrier around his body, though at this stage he can not expand it to contain allies. Ripples of black coloration play out across the sphere. [1-33%, Ki]
[KI-1] Vermillion Crasher- Momil generates a decently powerful flame-red ki sphere from his palm which he proceeds to throw at an opponent . [1-33% PL, Ki]
[Ki-2] Vermillion Nova- Momil creates an large crimson spear made of pure ki, crackling with malicious ki. Due to the large amount of ki contained within the spear, it reaches extremely high temperatures, and can easily burn the target quite severely if not dodged [1-66% PL, Ki, Burning effect]
Example Solo
The Sayian had just arrived on this backwater planet a few days ago, and already he was close to accomplishing his mission at the Frost Force embassy. Momil had been a participant in this song and dance of corruption cleanup for far too long to not be extremely good at it, and a few shallow graves and undying professions of service later, he was honestly ready to leave. However, there was another side of his business he had to conduct, one that he had been eagerly awaiting for weeks. The Sayian stepped on an elevator and asked for transport to the lowest levels of the city.
These backwaters were always a refreshing change of pace for Momil. Rather than having to tiptoe around and hold himself back from ripping his foe’s heads off with a casual punch, he could let his hair down a bit, and participate in some true combat, unlike the piddly training matches his superiors were always staging for him. Contrary to what one might think, these fights were tremendously enlightening for the Sayian enforcer. Every manner of dirty trick and underhand strategy was used without hesitation, allowing him to study the mindsets of alien fighters from across the universe. Every visit made him more efficient and helped temper him into a more effective warrior, less susceptible to the tricks many a warrior used on the battlefield.
Momil was a familiar face in this sector, a legendary prize-brawler that had fought hundreds of opponents and only lost when the odds were ruinously stacked against him. The Sayian ducked left through an alleyway, opening an unmarked door and closing it behind him quietly.
Kanda was having a very good day. The fat Heran’s fight club had been swarming with brawlers all night, and as the fights grew more and more bloody and intense, the more the crowd drank and betted, increasingly the flow of wealth into his own coffers. The Heran groaned, patting his stomach and waving away another tray of food before clumsily grabbing his microphone and looking at it owlishly, his intoxicated brain processing his next action for a few seconds.
Kanda was about to announce the name of an up and coming Heran combatant when an underling ran up to him, whispering in his ear. The heran’s eyes widened with the light of avarice, and he hurriedly cranked up the volume on the sound system. “HOLD!” He screamed, gesturing for the challenger to retreat from the ring. This spawned several angry whisperings, but they quickly quieted down out of curiosity. Kanda glared out at the crowd. “It seems like y’all are getting an even BIGGER treat this evenin’. Instead of that mook, I have a special challenger for our champion. Y’all new to this here scene have only heard about him in stories, one of the most powerful and brutal combatants in ring-fightin history. The “Frozen One”, MOMIL!”
The cheering redoubled in intensity as a cloaked figure stepped up to the ring, casually shrugging out of his disguise and tossing the cloak to an orderly. For this fight, Momil had left his battle armor at home, instead opting for a sleeker design, instead wearing the black bodysuit and pants he usually wore under the armor. He said nothing to the hollering crowd around him, instead inspecting his opponent. He had heard whispers of this Majin warrior in the embassy high above in the upper levels of the megalopolis, supposedly an extremely powerful and brutal combatant, never letting up until his opponent was dead and buried. Even if you managed to hurt him, the rumors said, he would just regenerate faster then damage could be dealt, making him the perfect warrior.
Momil glanced up once at the announcer’s box, practically seeing the dollar signs in his beady eyes before returning to his gaze to his foe, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting.
“BEGIN!”
The brutish majin at once charged at Momil, only to watch as the Sayian rapidly pivoted, slamming a devastating right cross into his foe’s cheek, sending him crashing against the arena’s cage. Momil grinned cruelly, then shot forward, unleashing a devastating barrage of blows that brought the Majin to the very brink of unconsciousness.
He smirked, “Perfect warrior? Don’t make me laugh, there is only one worthy to hold that title!” Momil shouted, throwing his hand up in the air and turning to face the crowd. The drunken mob roared in response, joyous in the spectacle, especially the ones who had taken the severely one-sided odds against the Sayiajin.
The shouts only intensified as the Majin, having used most of his energy to quickly regenerate his battle-damage body landed a powerful axe kick, sending Momil crashing to the arena floor. Hope burned in the Majin’s breast, maybe that initial earth-shattering flurry of blows had been a one-off, there was no way he could have survived that att-
“Not bad runt.” A quiet voice said from the grimy floor of the arena, “Not bad at all.”
Momil stood up once more, hints of malicious ki flickering around his form. “I would extend this fight, but given that attack seemed to be your limit, there is simply no more enjoyment to be found here.” He said quietly. The Majin leapt forward once more, fists extended to smash this invincible foe away forever, but he was too slow. Momil concentrated a large portion of his energy into his fist, before launching an uppercut that shook the very foundations of the building, sending his foe crashing through the roof of the establishment.
The Sayian quietly dusted his hands off, unwrapping the fabric from his knuckles before taking the Zeni from the referee’s slack hand, as he stared up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. It was about time he left this world, before it too bored him.
Nicknames/Titles:
The Frozen One
Race:
Sayian (Ancient)
Race Traits:
Zenkai - When a Saiyan almost dies their power potential increases exponentially. When you almost die in a DE/SAGA and survive with less than 5% HP, you feel yourself closer to your next transformation removing 10% of the required PL for your next form. This does not negate mastery or other requirements on that form and only works 3 times per transformation.
Tail Weakness (Mutants and Tropicals only) - A Saiyan’s tail is their true weak point and often a highly guarded part of the Saiyan’s body. The Saiyan tail allows them to absorb blutz waves and transform into the Oozaru form, if this tail is removed they are incapable of accessing these forms until it grows back (which requires an advanced healing chamber or stimulant.) If this tail is grabbed, the Saiyan will be forced into a state of shock that stuns then for a moment and drops their guard substantially (50% PL Drop), Saiyans require 10% less stamina to dodge a grab attempt at their tail compared to other body parts.
Shadow Limbs - Due to the concentrated malicious Ki that has been festering inside of the Ancient Saiyan's body, they possess an interesting ability unseen and untapped by their modern brethren. Upon losing a limb in a thread, the Ancient Saiyan in question may activate this ability and replace the limb with an intangible, untouchable shadow limb that functions identically to the original (including Saiyan tails). While this normally takes one turn to activate, if an Ancient Saiyan is in the Evil Saiyan transformation it is instantaneous. This works once per thread.
Age:
Biologically 25
Gender:
Male
Personality:
If one was to describe Momil in a word, it would be twisted.
When he first awoke from his thousand year-long imprisonment, Momil seemed to be a rather pleasant individual. Unlike his loudmouthed Sayiajin brethren, Momil was quiet, introspective, preferring to listen first before speaking. This wasn’t out of angst or a dark experience, it was simply his preferred mode of operation, perhaps an echo of his time before the ice.
However, after years of being slowly manipulated by his superiors within the Frost Force, this initially self-efficacy has been twisted into a quiet sense of superiority, fanned by countless battles and encounters where Momil has taken victory with almost zero effort. Momil’s ego has inflated massively, and the malicious ki within has grown all the stronger for this darkness, creating an unstable cycle of power and pride.
Aside from this massive issue, Momil has a few other traits that set him even further apart from your garden-variety Sayian. Upon his awakening, Momil found that his hunger for knowledge about his new surroundings was far more acute then his brethren, and he quickly mastered the Frost-sejin tongue in response. Unfortunately, this desire to learn has rather fallen by the way-side as the thrill of combat and the desire to remember who he truly was became all consuming.
All in all, Momil is an abrasive, power-hungry individual that is motivated by two things. The thrill of the brawl, and the desire to fills the holes within his own memory.
Appearance:
History
Prologue: Awakening
Momil’s first memory was one of endless cold, then growing warmth as the millennia-old barrier encasing him and his comrades gradually weakened under the weight of countless decades. Sometimes the ancient Sayian received bright flashes of consciousness, bright and terrifying as all he could feel was the freezing ice encasing him, and the haft of some sort of weapon against his body. The Sayian struggled against his prison, half-conscious and nearly dead, but his cryogenically frozen body was simply too weak to shatter the prison surrounding him. Eventually, these moments of lucidity slipped away, along with the memory of them as Momil and his long-forgotten comrades were buried deeper and deeper into the Lake of Dreaming Nightmares.
So continued this process for thousands of years, until one fateful day when the cycle was broken.
His salvation was announced by a loud thundering roar as the meteor, perhaps guided by fate itself, struck Momil’s icy prison, flash-frying the enormous lake and allowing the Sayians within to feel warmth for the first time in many millennia, not that they were strong enough to appreciate it.
Momil and his comrades were found several hours later, delirious and nearly dead, only surviving due to their Sayian biology, and perhaps the last remnants of their long-vanished power. Momil, buried especially deep within the lake, was one of the worst of these cases, and it took him many weeks to get to the point where he was able to stay awake, much less communicate with the strange lizard-like people around him. When he was finally mustered up the strength to do so, it was quickly discovered that nobody in the hospital could understand him, leaving the ancient Sayian understandably frustrated.
In addition to these physical and cultural challenges, Momil’s mental state wasn’t exactly the prime example of sanity. Every single last remnant of his memories had been mysteriously taken from him, leaving only holes where lessons and cherished moments used to be. Thankfully, Momil still retained a good deal of intelligence, despite centuries of being cryogenically frozen. In addition, the Sayian seemed to have miraculously retained a good deal of his intellectual, physical, social and linguistic skills, although the area that seemed best preserved was his martial prowess.
Even with all of this “luck” it still took a long time for the Sayian to become fully functional once more, and by the time he did most of the other Sayians imprisoned with him were long gone, taking their new armor and vanishing into the endless cosmos in search of answers.
Chapter 1: Rampage
Unlike most of brethren, Momil was far more logical about his current situation then one would perhaps expect of your average Sayian brawler. Sure, he would very much like an answer to who he truly was before his imprisonment, and perhaps what drove him to crash into the Lake of Frozen Nightmares in the first place, but roaming across the stars like a bunch of hapless Brenchian tourists wasn’t exactly going to help matters. Instead, the Sayian decided to stay put for the time being, take on some jobs for the Frost Force, and use it’s power and prestige as a vehicle to find answers.
Unfortunately, fate had other plans.
The spectacle of the ancient Sayian’s awakening had shaken the entire planet of Frost to it’s core, and many clamored to see the new Sayian recruits into the Frost Force. However, not all of these interested parties were entirely benign, as the Sayian soon learned.
It started with little things, a deployment to capture a ship full of weaklings here, an arena battle to represent the Frost Force there, all things that were of negligible difficulty to the ancient Sayiajin. Momil brought up these concerns to the Frost Demons who commanded him, but these issues were simply brushed off as him being simply too good for any of the normal work grunts such as him were meant for. Slowly, but surely, he moved up the ranks of the Frost Force, taking on missions that seemed to slowly increase in difficulty, but not enough to ever satisfy the Sayiajin.
For their part, his superiors praised every successful mission he completed, showering him with promotions, rewards, and meaningless titles until he too began to secretly believe his superiority. The campaign was subtle, yet masterful, and gave his Frost Demon superiors an extremely potent tool against any rival faction within the Frost Force that opposed them. After all, even if he was initially overwhelmed, a simple application of Blutz Waves made him an unstoppable juggernaut!
Momil grew stronger and more arrogant as time went by, eventually becoming a twisted prideful shadow of his initially quiet self. Only one more thread of the original Sayian remained, the desire to reclaim his old memories, and finally discovered what had happened to him that night so many millennia ago.
It is here our story begins.
Techniques:
[SP] Flight - By utilizing the power of his ki, Momil is able to fly.
[SP-1] Ki Mastery - Due to the loss of his memories, and little reason to sharpen his skills in this area, Momil's ki control skills are very rudimentary in nature.
[SP-1] Zanzoken - By flaring his energy for a brief moment, Momil is briefly able to greatly increase his speed, leaving an afterimage in his place.
[ST -1] Shadow Striker - Momil channels a good deal of his mysterious shadow energy in his fist, allowing him to punch things with deadly force! When this technique is active, or is charging, a shadowy aura can be seen around Momil's arm. [1-33% PL, Stamina]
[ST-2] Savagery of the Shadow - Taking the concept of the Shadow Striker one step further, Momil draws upon his ancient ki to crate a large demonic looking arm around his own, tipped with razor sharp claws which he uses to strike at an opponent. [1-66% PL, Stamina, Slashing]
[Ki-1] Entropic Barrier - Momil creates a spherical red ki barrier around his body, though at this stage he can not expand it to contain allies. Ripples of black coloration play out across the sphere. [1-33%, Ki]
[KI-1] Vermillion Crasher- Momil generates a decently powerful flame-red ki sphere from his palm which he proceeds to throw at an opponent . [1-33% PL, Ki]
[Ki-2] Vermillion Nova- Momil creates an large crimson spear made of pure ki, crackling with malicious ki. Due to the large amount of ki contained within the spear, it reaches extremely high temperatures, and can easily burn the target quite severely if not dodged [1-66% PL, Ki, Burning effect]
Example Solo
The Sayian had just arrived on this backwater planet a few days ago, and already he was close to accomplishing his mission at the Frost Force embassy. Momil had been a participant in this song and dance of corruption cleanup for far too long to not be extremely good at it, and a few shallow graves and undying professions of service later, he was honestly ready to leave. However, there was another side of his business he had to conduct, one that he had been eagerly awaiting for weeks. The Sayian stepped on an elevator and asked for transport to the lowest levels of the city.
These backwaters were always a refreshing change of pace for Momil. Rather than having to tiptoe around and hold himself back from ripping his foe’s heads off with a casual punch, he could let his hair down a bit, and participate in some true combat, unlike the piddly training matches his superiors were always staging for him. Contrary to what one might think, these fights were tremendously enlightening for the Sayian enforcer. Every manner of dirty trick and underhand strategy was used without hesitation, allowing him to study the mindsets of alien fighters from across the universe. Every visit made him more efficient and helped temper him into a more effective warrior, less susceptible to the tricks many a warrior used on the battlefield.
Momil was a familiar face in this sector, a legendary prize-brawler that had fought hundreds of opponents and only lost when the odds were ruinously stacked against him. The Sayian ducked left through an alleyway, opening an unmarked door and closing it behind him quietly.
Kanda was having a very good day. The fat Heran’s fight club had been swarming with brawlers all night, and as the fights grew more and more bloody and intense, the more the crowd drank and betted, increasingly the flow of wealth into his own coffers. The Heran groaned, patting his stomach and waving away another tray of food before clumsily grabbing his microphone and looking at it owlishly, his intoxicated brain processing his next action for a few seconds.
Kanda was about to announce the name of an up and coming Heran combatant when an underling ran up to him, whispering in his ear. The heran’s eyes widened with the light of avarice, and he hurriedly cranked up the volume on the sound system. “HOLD!” He screamed, gesturing for the challenger to retreat from the ring. This spawned several angry whisperings, but they quickly quieted down out of curiosity. Kanda glared out at the crowd. “It seems like y’all are getting an even BIGGER treat this evenin’. Instead of that mook, I have a special challenger for our champion. Y’all new to this here scene have only heard about him in stories, one of the most powerful and brutal combatants in ring-fightin history. The “Frozen One”, MOMIL!”
The cheering redoubled in intensity as a cloaked figure stepped up to the ring, casually shrugging out of his disguise and tossing the cloak to an orderly. For this fight, Momil had left his battle armor at home, instead opting for a sleeker design, instead wearing the black bodysuit and pants he usually wore under the armor. He said nothing to the hollering crowd around him, instead inspecting his opponent. He had heard whispers of this Majin warrior in the embassy high above in the upper levels of the megalopolis, supposedly an extremely powerful and brutal combatant, never letting up until his opponent was dead and buried. Even if you managed to hurt him, the rumors said, he would just regenerate faster then damage could be dealt, making him the perfect warrior.
Momil glanced up once at the announcer’s box, practically seeing the dollar signs in his beady eyes before returning to his gaze to his foe, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, waiting.
“BEGIN!”
The brutish majin at once charged at Momil, only to watch as the Sayian rapidly pivoted, slamming a devastating right cross into his foe’s cheek, sending him crashing against the arena’s cage. Momil grinned cruelly, then shot forward, unleashing a devastating barrage of blows that brought the Majin to the very brink of unconsciousness.
He smirked, “Perfect warrior? Don’t make me laugh, there is only one worthy to hold that title!” Momil shouted, throwing his hand up in the air and turning to face the crowd. The drunken mob roared in response, joyous in the spectacle, especially the ones who had taken the severely one-sided odds against the Sayiajin.
The shouts only intensified as the Majin, having used most of his energy to quickly regenerate his battle-damage body landed a powerful axe kick, sending Momil crashing to the arena floor. Hope burned in the Majin’s breast, maybe that initial earth-shattering flurry of blows had been a one-off, there was no way he could have survived that att-
“Not bad runt.” A quiet voice said from the grimy floor of the arena, “Not bad at all.”
Momil stood up once more, hints of malicious ki flickering around his form. “I would extend this fight, but given that attack seemed to be your limit, there is simply no more enjoyment to be found here.” He said quietly. The Majin leapt forward once more, fists extended to smash this invincible foe away forever, but he was too slow. Momil concentrated a large portion of his energy into his fist, before launching an uppercut that shook the very foundations of the building, sending his foe crashing through the roof of the establishment.
The Sayian quietly dusted his hands off, unwrapping the fabric from his knuckles before taking the Zeni from the referee’s slack hand, as he stared up at the gaping hole in the ceiling. It was about time he left this world, before it too bored him.
