As he casually walked through the cracked streets lined with remains of vehicles and knocked over buildings comprising the only thing one could mistake as cities on the rapidly depopulating planet Earth, a familiar scent welcomed Zamasu's Saiyan enhanced nostrils. The stench of old worn leather, of the powder fueling the projectile weaponry favored by the inhabitants, and a distinctly invasive odor around their armpits whenever they meet him in battle.
Even more so than usual, Zamasu couldn't help but grin at the thought as he continued his stroll towards the willful rats preparing to chew on his heels for the umpteenth time. Human efforts at resisting justice always amused him, but his mirth wasn't entirely aimed at them, but at his old master as well.
Barely taking note of the dispersing stench of the humans trying to *ambush* him, Zamasu remembered one virtue of humanity Gowasu attempted to use in defense of them. Their ingenuity, their ability to create something new, to improve on what already is or to take something terrible and use it as a device for good. Trying to find a correlation between this praise of them and humanity's tactics thus far spurns a hearty chuckle out of Zamasu.
For every effort from the humans to deny the God's justice was always the same here. They would disperse through their vast, multi-story buildings and lie in wait, trying to attack him with tiny metal projectiles or large explosive ones. Trunks, always claiming that this would be the day they would defeat him and secure the perpetuity of their loathsome existence, would swoop in, put up a mediocre fight and when it all inevitably fell apart, they throw their smoke or gas bombs and scurry off like the rats they are, always fewer and always utterly defeated.
Yet even now, as their stench grew and he could make out the distant thumping of boots against rock and the clicking and clanking of their weaponry, they proved his master wrong and Zamasu right once more. For even now, after dozens of failed encounters, he could see nothing new in their tactics or strategies, now of their lauded ingenuity, more of something approximating an entire species banging their head against the wall, thinking the next blow will finally bring it down when in actuality the effort is killing them.
An effort which could achieve a much swifter resolution if he could sense their ki, but Goku's body was not so forthright as to simply let him gain full access to it... yet. But the Saiyan's heightened senses have sufficed well enough as a means of hunting the humans down.
The barrage exploded instantaneously, bringing life back to a hollow and silent city through the chorus of metal firing from metal and slicing through the air towards its target. From dozens of windows, spread across nearly as many buildings, yellow flashes of light added some color to their dour surroundings, almost beautiful in their mechanical rhythm.
Zamasu simply stood there, letting the bullets smash against him and fail to achieve their intended goal, as they always did. Soon, their larger, more explosive counterparts joined the fray, blasting away at him with spurts of fire and pesky but harmless smoke clouds. Always the second response when the first one failed. Once all or most of these initial attackers die, response three will come crashing out of the sky bathed in golden light, his sword and self-righteous heroics so trite they could match his fighting methods ready for another failure.
For all this repetition proved as valid evidence against Gowasu's faulty teachings, something inside Zamasu stirred whenever battle erupted all around him, a silent conflict in the back of his mind. An almost ingrained wanting for an... originality of sorts. Anything, to break a troublesome feeling of ennui festering somewhere inside him he could keep at bay for any other time besides in battle, even for woefully one-sided ones such as these.
From the moment he cut down Goku and his family to his myriad of battles with the other Kai's to his present mission of creating utopia, the feeling subtly but profoundly grew stronger, urging him to find new challenges to satiate it. Was the power of the strongest and most loathsome of humans he now inhabited the cause? Could it be so built so intently for combat that even another inhabiting it could become subconsciously annoyed at the lack of a proper battle? The longing for a good fight to test it in constantly new and interesting ways? Was this the reason he let Trunks go, as little of a true challenge as he was and not merely to gain more access to Goku's strength even at a snails pace?
Not for the first time, a more reasoning part of himself urged to stop this cycle of behavior, to fight against whatever Saiyan poison slipped into his thinking, but the alternative was so tantalizing... He almost decided to listen, opening and closing the palms of his hands over and over to simply spring into action and cut a swift and bloody swath through the humans, killing them with blasts before their heads even hit the ground. His hands wouldn't listen, the idea of making it even... easier... unnerved him.
He decided to spice up this to this tiresome back and forth some other way, even if his enemies couldn't. Zamasu mentally focused on the hundreds of bullets at his feet and with a deliberate watery motion of his hands upward, sprung them back to life as a wave of metal reaching several stories into the sky. With a sweeping motion and Goku's keen sense of smell at hand, Zamasu prompted the wave into the buildings where the Resistance positioned itself, devouring them just as a wave of water from a great flood would.
The thumping of boots and the nervous stench of armpits grew greater once more to accompany the fleeing humans lucky enough to survive after the bullet wave couldn't go on anymore. To no one's surprise, they another tired strategy of flinging flash and smoke bombs at him to mask their escape. Usually, Zamasu would simply sweep it all aside, but the chance to spice up another trite encounter compels him to let the cloud remain, throwing off their scents somewhat and making the effort of picking them off marginally more interesting.
As expected, he couldn't kill one or two more of them before an all too familiar crackling noise resounded from above and a golden light accompanying it illuminating the gray surroundings with more color than any gun could hope to. Grinning at the rapidly approaching Trunks, Black could spot his favored weapon, a simple sword, hovering above his head for a swipe and with the same ease of movement he birthed the bullet wave with, easily side-stepped the attack.
The bright glow burst from the weapon, unleashing a wave of pure energy as the sword cut into the ground, leaving a crater dozens of feet deep and wide in its wake. His logical mind urged him to take Trunks by surprise, cut his head clean off his shoulders and end it once and for all. He momentarily gave into it, forming the beginnings of his energy blade to do just this... but even as he tried to force the limb into acting, it did nothing but twitch violently in place, unwilling to listen to him.
Zamasu realized a compromise would need to happen once again. If Trunks was to die today, it would be in a fashion far more interesting than this. After all, Trunks was no real threat to him, he could afford to play with him one last time
"Always you swing that blade around as though it was a hammer," Zamasu or Goku Black as he'd been named by Trunks and the other humans of Earth told the Super Saiyan as he realized the tiny distance between them and promptly leaping away. "No finesse, no respect or understanding behind the many intricacies necessary to properly wield it."
"A deranged psychopath like you doesn't get to talk of finesse," Trunks replied with that tried and true tone of self-righteousness, thinking himself of some savior. An annoying downside to prolonging their battle Zamasu regrettably forgot. "Not that it matters because I'm putting a stop to you, once and for all!"
Instead of cringing, Zamasu smiled, completing his energy blade. Putting his left arm behind his back, he flourished his sword in the air with precise movements, ultimately resting it into a low guard position at the right side of his legs.
"How many times have I heard that before," Zamasu grinned at him, enjoying the deepening of Trunks' scowl. The half-Saiyan spread his feet evenly and took hold of his blade with a reverse grip and unleashing the deep roar of a beast dozens of times his actual size took to the air. With a wide swing, the air and earth cracked in half, dissipating the last remnants of the smoke bomb cloud but Trunks, predictably, failed to hit his mark.
Zamasu leaped into the air and purposefully landed on Trunks' back, lingering there just enough for the half-Saiyan to roar again and spin around for another blow only for another well-timed, easy leap from his opponent robbed him of scoring a hit. A jab was his next response one Zamasu met with a delayed parry and side step to purposefully let Trunks' poor footwork almost send him crashing face first into the dirt.
As if suddenly losing a whole leg, the half-Saiyan clumsily tried to rebalance himself against the cracked ground, a sight Zamasu found most amusing until Trunks snapped back into something resembling a proper stance and continued his assault of broad, sweeping attacks meant to maximize damage and range. A simple strategy, surely even an effective one against anyone else, but against some his better in every conceivable way?
And so their clash of blades went, Trunks swinging his sword this way and that, carving more of the city to pieces every time his attacked was parried or outright avoided by Zamasu's controlled and precise blade work. If Trunks was the raging bull putting all of its power behind every charge, Zamasu was the matador, expertly and calmly responding to whatever was thrown at him. Delivering more small cuts all along Trunks' body, near the veins spread throughout it, to the tendons keeping his muscles together, slowly wearing him down and truly showing yet another vast chasm in skill between the two of them.
A fact Trunks clearly became aware of when in an effort to block a jab left himself wide open to another blow. Raising his shield to the front of his face, he failed to notice that Zamasu purposefully dematerialized the sword away, jabbing at Trunks' blade with the tips of his fingers before swiftly pulling his entire hand back, bringing out the blade again and running it through Trunks' side. Biting back a bloody cough, Trunks dropped any pretense of swordplay and headbutted Zamasu before kicking him away to the chest.
Usually, Trunks' attacks regardless if they were physical or energy based, had little to no effect on Zamasu, but as he skidded away and chuckled at Trunks' little display of defiance, he felt something burn inside his chest, something faintly like pain. The undeniable Saiyan urge for battle rooted inside Goku's body burned brighter than ever at this prospect, at the possibility of Trunks getting stronger from their numerous encounters and possibly becoming a worthwhile opponent to fight at last.
Deciding to test this theory out, Zamasu discarded his energy blade and rushed Trunks, blasting the surprised Super Saiyan's sword out of his hands and forcing him into hand to hand battle. Whatever involuntary surprise made him hesitate quickly vanished as the two began a rapid exchange of punches and kicks, first on the ground then darting across the sky, vanish from each other's lines of sight before reappearing to attack one another again.
Whatever curiosity Trunks piqued beforehand seemed more and more like a fluke, despite his blows, the one's that managed to connect, only marginally stronger than before, Zamasu held the advantage. For every blow Trunks delivered to him, Zamasu returned with several of his own, each one bruising or cutting or breaking something in the Saiyan's body. Too small a consolation for what could have been.
Feeling a particularly strong sense of loathing for Trunks at fooling him like this, Zamasu decided to definitively make him pay for it and brought the Super Saiyan down to his knees with an uppercut aimed at his stomach. With a nauseating release of barely digested food, Trunks fell to his knees, coughing away and clinging to his pained body in a pointless effort to ease it.
"What a disgraceful sight for the last of a powerful, warrior race," Zamasu brought forth his energy blade once again and placed it mere inches away from Trunks' neck, tangling his free hand through his enemies purple hair and forcing his head back up. "The power of which you so poorly-"
A sudden flare of intense pain exploded from inside Zamasu's chest, forcing a torrent of blood to come rushing into the back of his throat. An unforeseen distraction Trunks quickly made use of by headbutting him and managing to free himself of Zamasu's hold. The pain, though nowhere near as intense as the initial feeling, left Zamasu suddenly weary and gasping for hair.
Before he could kill Trunks or discover the cause of it, the half-Saiyan smirked at him and from one of his pockets brought out another smoke grenade, tossing it at Zamasu. With his interest in any further development of Trunks or his use in advancing Zamasu's own, he tried to telekinetically force the container back when it suddenly exploded, releasing a sickly, green smoke from within.
When the odor within entered his nostrils, Zamasu had to muster all the willpower inside himself to stop from dropping dead on the spot.
The stench, like one of a thousand unwashed humans, rotting corpses, gallons of vomit, burning flesh and hundreds of other unpleasing scents all mixed into one hurt his new body more profoundly than anything else up until that point. It would have brought him to his knees before, but inside of Goku's body, one with a far more honed sense of smell, the effect was almost paralyzing. Like a drunken fool, he wobbled on his feet, barely staying on them as the pain in his chest grew with his anxiety.
Trunks, clearly planning this, wasted no time in taking advantage of Zamasu's weakened state. As he blasted off towards him, ignoring the myriad of injuries covering his flesh, he underwent a transformation unlike any the dazed Kai had seen before. His golden hair spiked into dozens of directions and his muscles grew to almost comically absurd sizes, ripping away his jacket in the process.
When the Super Saiyan brought smashed both of his absurdly muscular palms against each one of Zamasu's ears, the joint blows caused a horrid buzzing noise to reverberate inside Zamasu's skull, throwing him further off balance and leaving him more at the mercy of his hated enemy. When Trunks' fist made contact this time around, the pain was most certainly felt.
Whereas before his blows registered barely above the bullets and rockets employed by his human allies, Trunks' vastly amplified physical form, whatever other else it cost him as a trade off, was used to its fullest effect. Greatly aided by Zamasu's completely overwhelmed state of mind. With each blow, he could feel his muscles tremble, his bones creak and skin cry out in pain.
None of it, however, could match the perpetually rising pain of his chest, now always at the same level as the initial spike and only getting stronger from the external assaults on Zamasu. Even with the dying out of the buzzing noise cracking his skull in half or the stench fading away, the chest pain kept him a suitably open target for Trunks and his onslaught of attacks.
Just when it seemed it would have no end, Zamasu was awarded a brief reprieve when Trunks' power seemingly backfired on him. For whatever reason, be it energy drain or forcing his body into such an unnatural state in his condition, the drawbacks became clearer. Trunks' body suddenly shrank back to his regular size and the golden power of the Super Saiyan abandoned him, leaving him lying in the dirt, scowling and clawing towards Zamasu but unable to reach him.
Knowing that this was a golden opportunity to quickly turn the tide back into his favor, Zamasu forced himself through multi-layered agony, delivering a swift kick to Trunks' face. From the corner of his eye, he spotted Trunks' own sword lying in the rubble and with a satisfied grin gracing his bloody lips, managed to meekly summon it to his side via telekinetic manipulation.
Another sharp pain spike erupted as he tried to get back to his feet, almost sending him crashing back down. But once more, Zamasu managed to will himself upward, perpetually clenching his chest as he used Trunks' sword as a makeshift walking stick. The owner of the blade continued to eye him with disdainful defiance but plainly in even worse condition than Zamasu himself. A slight bit of irony that brought immense joy to the Kai.
"A bright side to these setbacks..." Zamasu panted out, still grinning at Trunks as he tried thrice to get the sword off the ground, giving up momentarily to try and quell the sharpening of the pain until eventually succeeding at his fourth try. The blade hovered above his head, held by shaking hands barely able to keep it aloft. "I get the pleasure of killing you with your own sword!".
The sound of a cocking gun momentarily sounded in Zamasu's barely recovered ears before it went off. Instead of simply feeling the infant flies sting of a bullet, Zamasu gasped for air through bloody lips when a sharp, burning sensation exploded from all over his back. Losing what strength he had left to keep standing, Trunks' sword slipped from his fingers while his limp fell forward.
As he laid there, gasping for air and fruitlessly trying to force his body to listen, Zamasu coughed more and more blood, the pain in his chest made considerably worse by whatever just blast apart his spine. The thumping of boots against rock came from his side and with a keen interest, he followed the sound until he laid eyes upon the perpetrator of robbing him the satisfaction of killing Trunks.
"Y-you..." He managed to say, the meekness of his voice shocking him almost as much as how horribly everything this day had gone.
The woman, Mai as she was called by Trunks, merely glared at him, her rifle constantly trained on his face while she diligently walked over to Trunks' side. "I should've known you'd overdo it."
Despite looking no better than Zamasu, Trunks smiled at her whilst she took his arm and placed it over her shoulders. "I knew you'd save me."
For a moment, her gaze left Zamasu and she smiled back before turning her full attention back to the wounded Kai lying on the ground in front of them. Trunks joined her in the silent glaring, using his sword for standing support.
Past all the pain he felt, all the confusion and the hatred for both of them and all they are and all they represent, it was the confusion that felt most powerful in Zamasu as he glared back at them. Grinding his teeth together, he choked down the blood and saliva and demanded answers.
"How..." He managed to blurt out with great strain, sending himself into another coughing fit. "How... have you..."
"Your body," Trunks raspily told him with an infuriating undertone of satisfaction clear in his weary voice. "Mom managed to figure out that you were really Goku, at least, genetically speaking from a strand of your hair I took from our last fight."
"And Goku," Mai continued. "Died years ago from an airborne disease that ravaged the planet just ahead of the Androids, a disease Bulma managed to cure years ago by studying samples of it."
Zamasu ground his teeth together, ignoring the effect the agitation put on his apparently poisoned heart as he tried to make sense of all this. He initially assumed thought the method of delivery was Trunks' stink bomb but that made little sense, the first spike of pain exploded well ahead of that nasty surprise. The only other time they could have infected him was...
"The... escape... bombs..." Zamasu concluded through a series of coughs, feeling the quickening of Goku's diseased heart inside his chest and the multiplication of the pain along with it. He tried to claw towards them, hoping to find one last rush of strength left in this cursed Saiyan body to let him take both of them down with him. But the damage was done, and all Zamasu's efforts did wore him out even faster, letting hasten his inevitable demise.
"That's right," Mai cocked her gun a few inches closer. "We knew you'd just stand there and let us try that again and you didn't disappoint."
"You... arrogant..." Fresh blood sprung itself into his throat, cutting him off, not that the sentiment was lost on either of them.
"You're the only arrogant one here," Trunks bit back, that tedious self-righteousness of his back in full force. "You tried to wipe us all out, destroyed our homes and enjoyed all of it and then you underestimated us! You thought you beat us before the fighting even started, that's why you toyed me with, toyed with all of us because you thought we'd never be able to hurt you. And now you're paying for all of it."
Zamasu never thought he could hate a human quite as he did Goku, even while acknowledging the virtues of possessing his strength. How such a simpleton could wield power surpassing most of the Gods and rivaling the highest one's and did nothing with it but the pursuit of his selfish desires for combat. When he lost to him upon arriving to Earth to see how true the footage of the tournament was, Zamasu knew he was right to hate him and the rest of his ilk.
But these two? This pair of scheming, arrogant who humans who looked down on him, thinking themselves superior for defeating him, for having the gall to lecture him on who was right or wrong in this conflict when the real answer was obvious. He was certain he despised them even above Goku, a considerable feat as Zamasu cursed him as well. Cursed him for his vulnerable, deficient body which, for all the power it had, could be felled but lowly, mortal tricks. He even hated his other self for not being here to help him, wasting time with the failed pursuit of the Yardratians and for not pushing him to sternly into taking immortality as well when they had the chance.
"It's over Black," Trunks continued as Zamasu's raged into a typhoon of loathing of everything and everyone around him, past and present while his body lost the last vestiges of life. "I don't know if you really are Goku or someone using him, if you are, I want whatever's left of Goku to know I'm sorry for doing this and I hope he finds some peace in the afterlife with everyone else."
"And if you are someone using him," Mai pressed the barrel of her rifle against Zamasu's face, matching her glare with his. "I hope you get everything you deserve on the other side."
"A fate far less deserved and a thousand times more lenient than what the two of you and the rest of you should suffe-"
With the sound of clicking metal and the flash of bright light, the justice of one Zamasu was permanently ended.