Dragon Ball: RNG Rebirth

Then, from the shadows of the trees, emerges a figure unlike the others. A female Yumetsian, her grey skin almost luminescent in the dim light, and her horns a sleek white and purple. Her power level reads a mere 300 on my scouter, but the snarl on her lips and the fiery glint in her eyes speak volumes. She charges at me with a primitive knife, the blade glinting in the light of the explosions behind us. The knife is crude, likely forged in some ancient ritual, a stark contrast to the sophisticated weaponry of the Frieza Force. But the rage in her eyes is something I recognize—the same burning desire to prove oneself in battle that fuels me.

The blade lightly grazes my Frieza Force armor, a mere tickle compared to the blows I've endured. Her eyes widen in surprise at my lack of reaction, and she takes a moment to savor the idea that she might have hit a nerve. I look at her, a cocky grin spreading across my face. "Is that all you've got?"

Before she can reply, I vanish from her sight, only to reappear right in front of her. She's fast, but not fast enough. I punch her square in the face with a force that could crush boulders. Her head snaps back, and the knife falls from her hand, clattering to the ground. The impact echoes through the jungle, a declaration of my dominance. She crumples to the ground, her body lifeless, the light in her eyes extinguished.

I turn to find Zelle locked in combat with a hulking Yumetsian, her fists a blur of motion. The air around her crackles with power, and the ground trembles with each blow she lands. Yet, she's holding back. Her smile, a mix of mischief and exhilaration, tells me she's enjoying the dance, playing with her opponent like a cat with a mouse. It's clear she has a thing for the thrill of the fight, the give and take of combat that's as intimate as a lover's embrace.

Her eyes meet mine briefly, a silent message passing between us. She knows I've seen her little game. The Yumetsian, blinded by his own fury, doesn't realize he's toying with a Saiyan tornado. Each punch she throws is a calculated move, each block a silent taunt. She's pushing his buttons, making him think he has a chance, all while her power level remains a steady 2,000.

The Yumetsian roars, swinging a massive sword that leaves a trail of purple energy in its wake. Zelle sidesteps with a grace that belies her size, her tail flicking behind her like a whip. She teases him, her movements fluid and playful, a stark contrast to his brutish swings. It's a mesmerizing display of power and control, a ballet of destruction. And as the blade slices through the air, missing her by a hair's breadth, I can't help but feel a twinge of arousal at the sheer beauty of it all.

The Yumetsian's strikes grow more erratic, his energy fluctuating wildly. I can see the beginnings of a transformation, his body straining against the gravity that's been holding him back. It seems my little love has found a new toy to play with, a challenge to test her limits. The air around them thickens with the dark energy of their clashing auras.

But my own battle isn't going unnoticed. A powerful presence approaches from the other side of the moat. A female Yumetsian, her grey skin adorned with intricate black tattoos, emerges from the foliage. Her power level, a formidable 1,500, flashes on my scouter—a clear sign of her status as either a commander or royalty. Her eyes are a piercing shade of purple, a stark contrast to the black sclera that surrounds them, and her horns are a majestic white, twisted and curving backward like the antlers of a cosmic elk. She wields a massive club, the size of a small tree trunk, and it's clear she knows how to use it.

With a battle cry that could shake the very stars, she charges at me, the club swinging with a ferocity that promises to end my life in an instant. I jump out of the way, the wind of the club's descent whipping my hair into a frenzy. The ground cracks where it strikes, sending a tremor up my spine. This one's no amateur. Her movements are precise, a dance of death and fury.

"I am Chomera!" she roars, her deep, resonant voice cutting through the cacophony of battle. "Royal Guard to the Yumetsian throne!" Her words hang in the air like a declaration of war, her purple loincloth fluttering around her waist, the chains adorning her wrists and ankles jingling with every step she takes. The black scar on her face is a stark contrast to her otherwise unblemished skin, and her third eye—a piercing white pupil surrounded by a sea of purple iris—seems to bore into my soul.

The air around us crackles with energy as we circle each other, our eyes locked in a silent duel of wills. Her club smashes down again, and this time, I catch it in a blur of motion. She tries to pull it away, but my grip is unyielding. With a snarl, she unleashes a burst of power, the club's handle vibrating in my hand. The chains clank together, the sound a symphony of rage. But I stand firm, my grin never faltering.

"Let's see if you can handle this," I taunt, channeling my own power into my fist. The club jerks from her grip, and with a swift motion, I send it hurtling back at her. She dodges with a grace that belies her size, and the weapon embeds itself in the earth behind her. The ground shakes, sending up a cloud of dust that obscures my view for a brief second. When it clears, she's gone, vanished into the jungle. A new thrill runs through me—this is the kind of fight I live for.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I consider my options. If I can turn Chomera to my side, she could be a formidable ally. I decide to appeal to her warrior's honor. "Chomera, wait!" I call out, my voice carrying across the battlefield. "You're a fierce warrior, I can see that. But why fight for a government that doesn't care about you?"

She emerges from the foliage, her eyes narrowed. "What do you know of honor?" she sneers.

"I know that together, we could be unstoppable," I reply, my tone earnest. "What do you say? Forget the Frieza Force. Join me, and together we'll conquer the stars!" I spread my arms wide, the offer hanging in the air like a ripe fruit. Her expression flickers with something unreadable, and for a moment, I dare to hope.