Cyril floated serenely above West City. The sun was just rising. West City may not have been the richest or best kept city out there but it sure was beautiful at dawn. The sun etched the buildings in pink and made shadows dance across the ground. The city was just beginning to wake up and Cyril saw a few cars pull from their homes in the garage and roam about the city. Soon the mutterings of people followed as crowds began to walk the streets, going about their business for the day.
Cyril let his mind wander as he watched the sunset rise and listened to the city’s buzz. His mind immediately went back to what it often mulled over. His removal of power and the last Seraphim scattered across multiple universes, hiding. Cyril was so worried about them. These last few Seraphim were only children, and perhaps a handful of young adults who skipped out of the war. Cyril wasn’t concerned for the adults though. They were cowards and deserved whatever came to them for abandoning their people. Cyril frowned and his jaw muscles twitched at the thought of those deserters.
He thought again about the few options he had left. There were unfortunately very few courses for him to take, and none of them seemed very hopeful. His only true lead was the discovery of dragon balls, Cyril knew these would be invaluable items in his quest to acquire his old powers, but he also knew these items were widely known and that they would undoubtedly be contested. They would not be gathered easily. In fact, Cyril couldn’t even begin locating them until he had enough money for the dragon radar required to find them. Cyril cursed his luck and moved onto a topic he had, surprisingly, not even considered until now- the other man with the same name, Cyrill. That damnable excuse for a living being who had wished away his powers with what he assumed was the dragon balls. Who was this man and why had he taken away his powers? Wait a moment it had been in this city hadn’t it?
Cyril scanned the horizon and found the fortress created by the mystical dragon that housed the bastard. Cyril glared at it for a long time debating attacking it right now. He looked it up and down judging the defenses, the strength of the metal, and other possible threats. In the end he decided he wasn’t strong enough to infiltrate it and wreak his revenge on Cyrill.
“Damn,” he muttered aloud. Cyril’s mind drifted through these topics again without really giving them much thought. Cyril began to think of the past, it was a mistake to do so he knew but he couldn’t help it. At first he didn’t think of anything of great importance, just fond memories of his travels. Cyril thought of time when he was weaker. Not as weak as he was now of course, but weak relative to when he was in his prime. He remembered countless techniques he had learned over his very long life. Cyril remembered how he had trained and struggled to master each power, he remembered valuable tips and shortcuts people had taught him to quickly master moves that otherwise would have taken months. Cyril made sure to store those away for later, he was not yet strong enough to use many of them but a time would come when he would have to relearn them.
It was now late morning and the city was in full swing. Scents of cooking food and gasoline reached Cyril floating above the tallest building. The city was louder now; everyone was awake and moving about making noise. It was no longer as beautiful and peaceful and it had been and the city began to annoy Cyril. He flew a few miles away, over forests and a small track of desert. He landed there in the middle of the sandy plain and sat down with a strained sigh. It was very warm, not enough to make Cyril uncomfortable but enough to relax him and make him a bit drowsy. He went back to his thoughts.
Now a very dark memory presented itself to him. One that made him quake and shiver. An event he had unknowingly helped bring about, The War of the Fallen. Cyril now relived the events leading up to and the war itself. It had started an eon ago; the top scientists of the Seraph and himself were undertaking a massive project. The genesis of an entirely new and original race, it was a feat that had only been done a handful of times and then almost always by some mystical force. But the Seraphim were determined to do it without any godly or immense inexplicable power. They used their own knowledge and power to bring about this race. It had taken centuries, and in the end it had required a massive source of energy. Three supernova stars went into the making of this race. It had been Cyril’s job to find and contain the energy of the supernovas. After the energy required had been gathered they finished the creation process immediately. The entire Seraph race rejoiced and welcomed the new race with joy and hospitality. They named the race the Ix, a play on roman numerals because they had taken 9 centuries. They were thrust into the modern world. Perhaps that is where the Seraphim had gone wrong. Perhaps they should have let them evolve on their own.
Many, many centuries past and the Ix and Seraphim were very close. The Seraphim had given them their own planet in the very same solar system they resided in. Trade prospered and the people were happy. But soon the Ix began to close up; they did not become hostile but became less interactive with other planets. The Seraph race did not think much of it. Eventually the Ix closed contact with all other races except for necessary transactions. The Ix became very elitist and hostile; they began shunning other species and rising themselves above others in their minds.
The Seraphim became concerned. Then something happened that made them very, very concerned. Intelligence arrived about an armada forming in Ix territory, armor was being made and improved, and advanced weapons were almost finished with development. The Ix were preparing for war with their neighbors. The Seraphim are a wandering species; they traveled extensively and rarely spent any time on their own home planet, but now the Seraph government called all Seraphim back to their home planet in preparation for war. They were confident they could fend off the Ix for a time without many of their warriors but they knew they would have no chance if most of their race did not arrive within one month. It became a race of arms now, the Ix were nearing completion in their preparations and were almost ready to launch an attack and the Seraphim were waiting for their warriors to return. The Ix won that race. The Ix launched their fleet a full week before even half of the Seraph’s army arrived.
Cyril had been one of the first soldiers to arrive, one of the strongest to be there. Cyril had witnessed firsthand the terrors the Ix wrought. This war was called the War of the Fallen, after the Ix’s fall from their previous greatness. Their economy suffered greatly because of this war; it must have been worth it though because eventually they won. Cyril would never forget the day the Seraphim fell. He had fought like a man possessed but to no avail, in the end the Ix overwhelmed them and the forces that arrived soon after were slaughtered. The Ix went on to destroy the entire universe they inhabited and spread out to other planets. Before the planet was destroyed another high-ranking Seraph pulled Cyril from the fray and instructed him to initiate emergency plan Seed. This plan entailed one Seraph gathering as many adolescents as possible from the planet and seeding them throughout the multi-verse, locking them in the form of a local species to save the race. Later a mature Seraph would return and unlock their form or eventually the children would emerge from the assumed form by themselves and hide. That was the plan told to the children though many were too young to understand.
Once Cyril had hidden the children he was forced to flee and hide himself. It pained him so much to do so but to save his race he had to first save himself. Cyril fled to the edges of the multi-verse and traveled incognito until he came upon this universe. Here he knew he could hide safely for awhile and here he also knew he could accomplish another goal he had in mind.
Cyril opened his eyes, becoming aware of his surroundings once more. Smoke rose from his position and he realized he had just accidently blew away almost a mile of desert land because of the emotional turmoil he was in. Cyril frowned at his lack of control. He need to retrain his mastery of ki as well it appeared. Cyril settled into meditative state and began working on that. He imagined the ki flow through his body, he felt it pushing and pulling against him and trying to work its way out. Cyril forced the ki in himself to flow in a natural pattern again and once that was accomplished he stood and made his way back to the city. It was only late afternoon, but Cyril rested for today.
Word Count: 1,600
