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They returned once more...

She could see it clear as day. A demon holding its child in her arms while its blood ran down her hands, down her fingers, and onto the royal carpet. The wounds were nothing more than proof that the young, blonde girl simply didn't belong in this world. Standing at the woman's side was the other, black-haired daughter who had yet to understand the weight of the situation; capable of little more than watching the conversation in awe with an undeniable, unexplainable sense of dread. They were fighting, arguing over the future of the young, blonde child with gleaming eyes. This wasn't the first time that the mother had come home to something like this. The father didn't seem to care about the condition of the body nestled tightly within its mother's arms. Maybe he would've felt differently if it was his...

She awoke with a gasp.

Shortly after came the sigh of relief that inevitably comes when dreamers catch up to reality.

"Good morning, Miss!"

Najila couldn't help but jump as she came to realize that she wasn't alone. Standing in her room, staring at her with false smiles and eyes so wide that they could only have been forced open unnaturally, were three maids eagerly awaiting her commands. The young girl was no happier to see them than she had ever been. Privacy had long ago become nothing more than an illusion in this place.

"What?" she asked begrudgingly, sitting up in bed.

"Lady Najila, it's our duty to prepare you for the day."

"I got it, it's fine. Don't worry yourselves over it. Seriously," she replied, hoping that they'd pick up on the signals that she was dropping

Najila hopped out of bed, walked into her restroom, approached a mirror and looked at herself. She didn't look much like a princess, in her own opinion. Her face had 3 scars that she couldn't hide without a mask, and she wore another on her neck. Sure, her complexion was great, she had an hourglass figure and she had nice cheekbones... but the scars really brought her down a few pegs. Her mother had seen so much violence throughout her life, and even she didn't carry scars like hers.

Enough about that.

She grabbed a toothbrush and a paper cup; put some paste onto the brush and...

"M'lady, would you like us to take care of that for you. Oral hygiene is of the utmost importance!"

Najila couldn't tell if they were just mocking her at this point.

"No. I've... I've got it from here. Trust me..." she replied.

And so it continued with every little thing. Dressing herself. Making her bed. Getting breakfast. An early morning shower. At every step, she was followed by these maids. And, at every step, the full-grown princess of Shea felt more and more as though everyone in the world saw her as nothing but a child. She wanted to believe that she wasn't but... what reason did she have, honestly? After finishing up her morning routine, she walked to the throne room to greet her father and a member of his royal guard.

"Hey dad!" she waved at her father on the throne before turning her attention to the guard.

"Are you ready for today's training?" He asked, two wooden swords at his side.

"Actually..." she turned her attention back to her father, "I was wondering if I could spar with you today, father?"

10 years...its been 10 years since...the last time he saw her. Her scent, it's as though it still lingers around my nostril. Many nights, I wake up, expecting to find her laying beside me, peacefully. I wish it were different, I wish she was still here, raising Najila together like we promised.


Oh...Uma, why couldn't you stay back? Was it something I did?

The day had yet to start. Since becoming the Lord of Shea, Ali had to move out of the Outsider residence into the Palace of Kings, and he did so with his daughter, Najila. Ali had stayed on Earth for around 20 years, 20 years, ten of which he spent alone, in the wake of Uma's departure. There were developing circumstances in the world he could not have avoided, and he had resigned himself to the fact. Ali waited 10 years, to hear from Uma. It was only his faith in his beloved, that he stuck around for as long as he did.

And on that fateful day, Uma returned, with a daughter he immediately recognized as his. They had a long and peaceful conversation about why she had to do what she did, who it was that she was protecting her loved ones from. Ali understood, he understood why she did it, and acknowledged why she couldn't stay back or wanted to. Najila, a 10 year old girl, scars on her face and neck, but she was his daughter. He had embraced her with eyes full of tears as her mother left through a portal filled with the ashes of hell, back to the land of the damned where the accursed being Vandal King ruled. The demon lord took everything from him. Well, not everything. "Let's go home Najila,"

----

"Old friend, it pains me to see you this way," Azan spoke. Azan Castle is a member of Ali's Royal Guard, a warrior of renowned strength and also Ali's cousin. They used to play a lot when they were younger. Azan remembered the bright and cheerful Ali from the old days, who would have nothing but smiles and excitement when they would visit Grom's underground fighting Arena as spectators. There were very few moments when he was upset. Alas, since Ali returned from the Outer World, it was as though he was a different man altogether. He was not necessarily sad, but Azan noticed a kind of gloom. It was very hard to not notice. "What say we find you a stepmother for Najila?" He suggested with a light chuckle, Of course, Ali would deny that thought.

Before Ali could respond, Najila appeared in the throne room.

Ali's gaze turned to his daughter. Color returned to his cheeks and a smile appeared on his face. "Why?" Ali asked, raising a hand towards Azan as he was about to say something to retort Najila."Please leave us alone for a bit cousin," Ali spoke, turning his gaze to Azan as he stood up from where he sat on the throne.

At that, Azan bowed respectfully, before taking his leave from the throne room.

After he left.

"Najila, your uncle is one of the most revered martial artists in the land. I expect you to treat him with respect. It was not very nice the way you spoke to him just now." Ali came down the steps of his throne, to stand in front of his daughter, not with the air of a king, but a father who loved his daughter dearly.

Najila glanced in the direction that Azan had walked in and waited until he was out of earshot to speak. She felt no disrespect for him, but she knew that her words might hurt him all the same. The fact of the matter was... training with Azan felt no different than being babied by the maids.

"Father..." she spoke slowly; not because he would have any trouble understanding her, but because she wanted to make sure that her words matched their intended meaning, "You know that all of the knowledge and education in the world doesn't do you any good without actual experience. You taught me that. Azan can't..."

The fact of the matter was that she carried the blood of the so-called "walking nuke" and "living EMP" within her veins. She saw the world just as her father did... in slow motion. Najila couldn't deny that Azan had passed on valuable knowledge to her during her lessons... but she felt as though she had stopped growing as a warrior after leaving Brimstone. The truth of the situation was that... in order to apply Azan's teaching... she had to...

"I've never actually... had to push myself with Azan in battle. I'm liable to forget my teachings shortly after hearing them because... he can't keep up. He can't force me to rely on his teachings. The last time that I actually remember feeling stressed, feeling a sense of accomplishment, was when... mom used to train me."

She hated to say it, but it was best that father hear the truth.

"But... you're more like her. There is no 'too fast' for you, is there, Father?"

Uma...

Hearing Najila talk of her mother was a surprise. She never did before. "Speed...speed is not everything, Najila," The Uma he knew did not rely on her natural endowments to become an expert in battle. "You say your mother trained you, but you failed to grasp the core principle she lives on," Ali sighed, keeping a hand on his daughter's shoulders. "What do you want to do?" He didn't want to say no to her, but he also understood what the girl wanted to do.

He didn't want to fight her...

Well, she didn't really expect him too, either. Truthfully, Najila agreed with what he was saying... but that was the entire point of her request. Father always got upset when mother's name came up. It made Najila regret the fact that she looked so much like her...

"I know mother's beliefs dad. That's the reason why I want to fight you in the first place. It's because my speed won't matter against you in the slightest," she walked closer to him and met his eyes; the blue glow in her own would let him know how serious she was about this, "I want to know if I've gotten any better since the last time that I've had an actual fight. A real fight. Sparring with you is the only way to find the answer, Father. Don't baby me like this. Show me who I really am."

She regained her distance, immediately bowing before the Shean king apologetically.

"I apologize for my behavior, but, please, Father..." she begged, her head still bowed, "Take this seriously. Otherwise, all of this training, all of this... is a waste. And, please, stop bringing up mother. Stop thinking about her. I apologize for talking about her. I know that I remind you of her, but..."

She looked up at him again with a face so similar to her mother's; a few scars on her face, a pair of horns and her sea-blue eyes were the only clues that the king had to help tell them apart.

"You never smile when you think of her."

Ali looked at his daughter with a frown. You really want to do this, huh? He thought. Guess that was something else that Najila had in common with her mother. They were both strong-willed and knew exactly what they wanted. "Fine. Follow me," Ali turned to exit the throne room into a corridor, then walked through before taking a turn and exiting into a large balcony, a balcony that overlooked an expansive garden.

Bright blue sky with the morning sun rising ever so steadily up from the horizon greeted him as he walked out. There was a gentle breeze blowing south from the Yggdrassil Forest in the North, a line of trees that rose thousands of kilometers into the sky. Even as big as Shea was, you could still see the shadows of this massive forest from over 200 million kilometers. It was going to be winter soon in Shea, but for now, the trees still had leaves in them, they were ripe yellow, looking feeble, about to fall down at any time, and littering the ground, making it a nuicense for ground keepers.

Many a time, the gardeners complained as Ali had strolled down through, requesting to cut down the menacing trees that grew so thick over the years, but Ali loved sitting under them and drinking tea, he loved reminiscing the days spent on Earth, and the peace that Earth could never afford to him. Here in the realm, things were peaceful, and the last war had happened more than 30 years ago, back when Ali was still a teenager. Since then, things in Shea had been peaceful.

The Castle stood outside of George Town that one could clearly see if you looked eastwards from the balcony, a jungle of skyscrapers and houses situated on the otherside of gray fort walls. George Town, as ancient as it was, continued to flourish and expand.

Ali stopped at one side, taking out his sword to spar with. Lightning Cutter, his faithful companion throughout his life. He didn't want to use it on anyone, much less his own daughter. Alas! It could not be helped. He needed to do this for her, for Uma, to raise their daughter to the best of his ability. But was he really doing a good job of it? She spoke of her mother training her, which is incentive enough for Ali to be doing the same with her. "Ready whenever you are Najila!" Ali spoke with a smile.

Najila smiled as her father drew his blade. Against all expectations, she arrived without one of her own. It would've served her no good in the long run, anyway. You see, she was a size shifter. She could walk around with the minuscule stature and frailty of an ant or the colossal size and might of the Titans, themselves. Conventional weaponry would serve her no good if it couldn't adjust its size to match the ever-changing nature of her own. And, even then, no average sword would fair well against her father's blade.

That didn't matter, ultimately.

Najila knew what it was like to face an armed opponent without a weapon. Her father had flight, regeneration and a blade at his disposal, but she had a few tricks of her own. She had spoken to the king about it in the past. The training that her mother had gifted her was more intense than any regiment that her father had ever followed, but the girl wasn't so foolish as to believe that that would give her the upper hand in the slightest. You see, despite all of her training, she had never once had a real battle. King Outsider had seen war and had spilled blood by his own hand many a time before. Experience and the nerve that comes from living through tragedies would serve him and his blade well. The princess remembered her mother's lessons for maintaining a battle-ready mind.

Do not presume to understand the full breadth of your opponent's capabilities.

Do not assume that you have an advantage in a fight until your opponent's blood is the only one that has spilled.

Do not falter if your opponent is not easily harmed.

Remain calm and analyze them with every exchange of blows.

Assume that your opponent is competent and your only surprises will be pleasant ones.

Najila assumed a fighting stance as she prepared for battle; a small glimmer in her eyes hinting at the howling thunder within. The upcoming battle between speedsters might only last for a hundredth of a second in real-time, but she had hoped that it wouldn't be quick from either combatant's perspectives. She took a moment to think over the situation and her opponent, then launched her first attack. She took one step forward then broke stance and dashed towards her father.

She approached him in full sprint, no sign of slowing down as she drew near. Her right arm began to rise to suggest that a heavy spear would soon follow. Her last approaching step came with a wide lead over her trailing leg that would help her to transfer all of the energy in her momentum into that one punch. Her father probably thought that she was insane for behaving this way but, truthfully, her actual attack would depend on his actions. You see, even though her eyes were locked on his, she was paying attention to his blade. One of two things would happen depending on the movement of that blade, itself.

If the king simply stood there and did not react, he'd receive a heavy blow to the nogging that was liable to bust his lip, slice open his guns, rattle his brain and, potentially, knock out a tooth or two. This was not what Najila was expecting though. If the blade began to move to intercept her, which was what she was waiting for, she'd employ one of her mother's tactics. The Flicker. Before his blade could meet her flesh, but long after the swordsman had committed to his strike, she would utilize her size-changing abilities to effectively vanish for an instant to allow the blade to pass by her with no resistance and leave her father open to a counter attack. And if her expectations were realized, she'd immediately look to counter his strike with a rising uppercut to the king's chin that was liable to shake his brain in a way that stole his command over his own legs from him.

As for which attack she actually followed through with? That was totally up to what her father did.

Years of discipline had taught Ali to be prepared for anything. He saw his daughter's charge as he saw anyone else, slow. Whether or not she thought she was moving fast, it didn't matter. Even if she was moving 10 times the speed of light, he would still see her as he saw anyone else. Her speed though, was quite nostalgic. It reminded of Ali of that time YEARS AGO, when he followed Najila's mother to the Forest of Monsters, or that place that had later become.

He calmly waited as the girl charged forward, and swung that arm at him, He did not move at all, not until the very last moment when her fist was millemeters from touching his face. He only turned to a side, to let the fist miss his face, then slide back to gain some distance. He calmly put Lightning Cutter away, for a few reasons. First, he simply could not swing it to harm Najila. He was unable to do it with Lightning Cutter to harm Uma before, nor would he be able to do it again, even if they were just sparring and weren't actually going to harm her in anyway.

Time to use good my fists! Ali assumed a stance, bringing his palms forward. His vision changed, as lightning filled them. Layer by layer, Najila's frame changed in Ali's eyes. Her skin peeled away, revealing her muscular frame, and eventually, even that peeled away to reveal her inner organs and her respiratory organ. Soon, that peeled away to reveal a wiremesh of lightning sparks running across her daughter's nervous system. Her whole body was one giant lightning bolt. Oh well. Ali sighed. What he was planning to do wasn't probably going to work, but he could still try other things.

In less than a femtosecond, Ali charged at his daughter again. aiming to strike at her with open palms, strikes meant to send calculated force into key areas of the body, shoulders, chest, face, hips and abdomen, using a martial arts known as the 'Soft Fist' style of the Stalker clan. Applied pressure to key points on a human body can effectively slow down or disable an opponent temporarily. The stalkers do it without being able to see, and with a success rate that ranges. Ali though? He saw human anatomy through a special ability of his. He saw.

Najila had expected a few things, but she certainly didn't expect him to sheathe his sword again. She knew that he wasn't going to kill her, but she was surprised that he wasn't even willing to attempt to cut her. She wasn't happy about the new development, but at least he had agreed to fight her in the first place. She readied her stance once more as her father advanced.

In the back of her mind, Najila wondered if her father was sharing an experience similar to her own. Even at the speed that he had been moving at, he would find that his daughter didn't miss a beat. She wondered how often he was forced to rely on skill, as well. How often would he face resistance from a being who couldn't flat-out endure his attacks from raw durability and could actually fight him like this?

The palms came down upon her.

Much like a knife, fist or claw, Najila worked to deflect the incoming blows with the palm of her hand and the back of her wrist. Her father's palms, themselves, never actually made contact with her body; the circular motion in her arms and rolling steps of her feet allowed her to meet his forearms mid-flight and divert the power of each blow to whatever side best suited the situation. In the midst of his recovery, as he withdrew every palm thrown, Najila would reply with her more savage style of combat. As her father's strikes looked to damage nerves, strike pressure points and circumvent natural defenses to damage soft tissues, Najila's strikes focused more on power and speed then knowledge and understanding. Elbows, fists, knees and battle-hardened shins would return to her father in hopes of damaging bone, bruising tissue, forcing the breath from his lungs and dazing him with jarring blows that would shake his brain on impact. Her speed used to accelerate her blows and increase power as opposed to her father's technique that utilized the absurd velocities in his movements to adjust the path of strikes mid-flight for perfect accuracy. For the first time in a long time, Najila began to sweat from the stress of her battle.

And, hopefully, to her father's delight, she was smiling proudly.

In the midst of their exchange of hands, the young princess hoped to impress her king by virtue of the skill at which she fought as opposed to her raw physical ability. Now, she wished to impress him with her ingenuity and resourcefulness. Her mother and father had taught her many-a-lesson in her brief 21 years of existence, but there was one undeniable fact that always held true. Of all of the lessons that she had learned, fighting fairly was never one of them. Trickery always seemed to be a welcomed art in battle if it led to profit and victory. And so, to tip the scales in her favor, Najila would play a little trick on her father that would take advantage both the resources available to her and the king's own psychology.

Mid-blow, during some random punch or elbow that she threw at the king, a bolt of electricity would fly from the back of her hand, down her suit, and directly towards the old man.

There was no sensible reason for him to concern himself with such an attack. Electricity could not and would never be able to harm him. Thunder ran through both of their veins, and Najila's attack would only seek to nourish him ultimately, right? Well, that was what she was hoping that he'd think. You see, Najila wasn't targetting father himself.

She was attacking his clothing.

A brief surge of electricity that the old man had no reason to concern himself with would work to dry the moisture from his clothing and set it ablaze. Heat, itself, wasn't particularly threatening to the old man either, but neither of these things was Najila's intent in this odd attack. She wanted to distract him and blind him momentarily so that she could position herself where she wanted to be.

Hopefully, the old man thought that she was getting desperate and chose to rely on the one thing that he was completely immune to try to harm him in a desperate attack. Hopefully, his affinity for electricity would give him no reason to tense. Hopefully, she could get the fire to start before he even realized what she was actually trying to do. The old man may not have cared for heat or electricity, but irritating soot in his eyes and nose, and blinding light would serve Najila well if he fell for her trick.

And, if he did, indeed, fall for her little trick, well... She'd have vanished by the time that he could see again and he'd have quite the surprise in store for him when she did make a reappearance.

Ali had never before paid much attention to the skills she was was developing in training with Azan. In his head, he had planned to keep her in the realm, where he could make sure she would never have to make use of those skills. He hoped to soften her, help her out of the trauma of Brimstone Dimension. Many nights, Ali would stay by her bed to find her sweating profusely, having nightmares that she often seemed to have. He wanted to make her forget whatever experienced she had had. Her fresh scars, he wanted to repair them, and after hundreds of apothecaries, those scars had managed to be degraded to what they were now. To experience the attacks from her daughter, who was about as old as Uma had been when he first met her on Earth, and looking almost exactly the same, made Ali realize how much his daughter had actually grown.

Much like Uma, she was strong. She deflected every single of his palm strikes, seemingly effortlessly. His speed was enough to overcome almost any other foe he had ever fought before. And yet, Najila didn't seem to think so. So young, and yet so fast. Ali had to put in effort now, because she wasn't just deflecting them, she was throwing strikes of her own in quick succession. His speed was not an advantage here. It came down to skill now, and where Ali used gentler martial arts, his daughter used strong blows, meant to break bones and bruise him. Slowly but surely, her blows forced him back, inch by inch. He was never a match for Uma in terms of raw strength, and that aspect in his daughter was no different from her mother. Ali strained his muscles, careful and deliberate deflections to avoid a fatal strike on his body.

Out of nowhere came a lightning bolt. Is she getting desperate? Ali thought, seeing as the girl was sweating. She had said it herself. She's not strained herself since those days of training with her mother, and its been more than 10 years since then. Ali had no reason whatsoever to suspect that his daughter was playing an elaborate trick on him. It was just a lightning bolt. He could just absorb it without difficulty. Or so he thought. Heat, or fire was not something Ali was inconvenienced by. He could hardly feel the difference in these elements on his body. However, before Ali could move, his vision was blurred for an instant. His clothes heating up lead to a fire that resulted in plumes of smoke to rise up from the jacket he had been wearing. It was sudden, and left Ali blind, even for that single instant. His daughter eluded his sight. Still not suspecting foul play, Ali simply swung a palm down to his jacket in an attempt to swat away the fire.

An opening presented itself.

As the king patted out the flames on his shirt, a wicked smile would creep up behind him and blue, gleaming eyes would stare down the back of his neck. A pair of hands would wrap around his waist an clasp tightly.

It was true that energy based attacks never phased her father, but blunt force trauma was another story. From her position behind his back, she'd be out of his range of motion for effective counter-attacks; one of many reasons why it was always a bad idea to allow your opponent to get behind you in a fight. And, just like her father, electrical abilities wouldn't help to ward the girl away or to loosen her grip. Najila's opponent would feel his feet begin to rise and the grip around his waist tighten, in turn.

The king was in for a ride.

The called it the "belly-to-back" suplex. It was a move that would combine the strength of the one performing it, their bodyweight, and the bodyweight of the victim to create one devastating blow to the victim's head. In one simple, fluid motion, Najila spread out her footing, lift her father's bodyweight and tighten her arms, straighten her legs, bend her torso back violently, and extend her toes to direct all of the force that she could muster at her current stature to drive his body up, over an arc, and headfirst into the ground with an explosive amount of power.

Simple yet effective.

A look of shock appeared on his face as Najila's arms hugged him from behind, slowly but surely clenching his back in her embrace. So that's what she was aiming for all along! Only a moment of shock later, he smiled. It was far too late to get out of the hold. He could only allow his daughter to take him for a ride. His feet left the floor involuntarily, and his vision 80 degrees backwards and he saw through the edges of the marble railing, the garden below them.

Hmph!

He blinked. And the wold changed. Ali once again stood upright, and with his foot about to drop on his daughter's chest, who was about to crash into the floor, only now, Ali was not in her embrace. He only needed to turn his body into lightning, and a momentary flash and a thundering boom, before he got out of the predicament. Ali had fought and survived against beings much faster than himself in the past, to say the least about his daughter who could only be described as being as fast as he was. Or at least, that's how Ali saw it. Still though, his daughter's underarmour did him considerable harm, visible through bruises and patches of red skin, the result of her suit's absorption ability. Ali still remembered how ridiculous susceptible he was to these sort of things. There had a been a time on Earth when he got trapped within a lightning rod...

In a flash of light, the king vanished and Najila was left falling on her own. She was taken completely by surprise and her back slammed into the ground with all of the force intended for her father's skull. Before she could get out of the way, his feet landed on her chest and she was made to bare the entirety of his weight for a moment. The wind was forced out of her lungs as she pushed him away and retreated a few steps; gaining a bit of distance before falling back to her knees. She coughed a few times as she worked to catch her breath and turned to get a good look at her father.

Even though she was sweating much more than her opponent and the only one on her knees, Najila couldn't help but feel victorious. Her father's clothing had been burnt, his body was decorated with a few bruises and she had even managed to pull a fast one on him during their short bout.

"So, what do you think, dad?" she asked, a cocky smile parting her lips as she looked up at him, "Pretty good even without my speed, huh?"

Their short spar may have felt like it lasted for a few minutes but, in reality, the two speedsters had actually traded blows for less than a second in real-time.

"Rough around the edges...but yeah...not bad," Ali spoke. The bruises and patches of exposed red muscles were healing even as he did. Especially when his power core was active, Ali's healing factor was boosted. He noticed Najila's proud smile, and nodded. "You did good, kid. I'm proud of you! Come here..." He spoke, opening his arms to embrace her in a hug. And when she did, he would speak again. "I love you Najila...you are all I have left in this world, all I feel dear to me. I just...I just don't want to lose you as well," There were no tears in his eyes, but the tone in his voice had been grim. He knew exactly what his daughter wanted. She wanted to go out into the world and adventure, gain experience for herself, to prove her worth.

"You won't, dad. If someone steps to me, I'll bury them in the dirt," she replied, holding him in her arms, "And if that doesn't work, well, I'm pretty good at running away, too."

A brief laugh and she let him go. She wanted to ask him, herself, but... it seemed like her dad already knew what she wanted. The first two halves of her life were both toxic to her but in different ways. Her mother walked in Brimstone, a world where demons reigned and she was hated by everyone but, well, everyone but her mother. There was no hope for her in a place like that. But here, in Shea? Well, she simply couldn't grow. Her life presented no challenge, no stress, and no struggle to her in any way. Maybe if she hadn't seen hell firsthand, then she would've been content living like this... but she knew better than to believe that this was how she should be living her life.

"I have to go, father. I'm not leaving forever, but I can't come back until I have a legacy of my own. My mother had accomplished so much by the age of 20, and you know I'm nothing compared to who you were when you were my age," she explained, hoping that he would find her smile contagious, "You both were great people. I want to be great too. I don't want to be babied though, father. If you want to help me, then let me see you smile as I walk away and be there for me when I return. And, in exchange, I'll bring home a novel's worth of stories to tell you. How's that sound, father?"

Ali stared at Najila, wearing a deep frown on his face. Accomplishments, she says, but she has no idea the kind of responsibilities both he and Uma had to deal with growing up. So much was expected, little was given back. Uma had a childhood stolen from her because of who she was. She was used by humans, and then as he liked to believe, the reason she made the choice to forever part with him and subsequently Najila was because of the way she was treated with by humans. Ali didn't want to let that happen, not by any means.

"Listen to me Najila. Are you listening? Not all trouble you face is going to be something you can challenge with your fist. Sure, you are strong, but so was your mother. The same goes for running. Out there, where I think you want to go in order to seek this legancy, its a world in which anything can happen, and sometimes, there's just nothing you can do to run away." If that was an option, he would not be the King of Shea today, nor would Uma be in hell. There are things in life you must face head-on. Ali just did not want his daughter to face anything she was helpless against.

Yes...indeed. She has grown up. She...Najila was now around the same age that Ali was when he left the realm, when her mother used to work for UNKD, or was the weapon of UNKD they used against the monsters known as Kaiju. Ali sighed. He...was not going to be able to stop her from doing what she wanted. He didn't agree to what she wanted, but what choice did he have? He remembered well the circumstances he left his own parents in. More than a decade went by without him even trying to stay in touch with anyone but his grandfather. He was not going to be able to live in peace if his daughter did the same to him. "Very well, kid. I will allow you to leave. But I have a few conditions of my own. I have no idea whether or not UNKD exists...but you are not allowed to work for them! Secondly, I'm sending someone with you, a friend and companion for your journey as well as someone who can get you out of hairy situations when you need it..." There was no way Ali could leave her unguarded. "...and lastly, I want you to come home every once in a while, or at least to stay in touch. Betwixt is open for you at all times. Just promise father that you will not forget about me. Can you do this for your old man?" He asked, as his face uplifted into a smile.

Ali knew this day was coming, and he had given it a bit of thought prior.

Father's conditions weren't unreasonable. She had no intention to join any army aside from that of Shea. It was true that she didn't want to return until she felt worthy, but she could manage to stop by occasionally. What did surprise her was his second request. The fact of the matter was that she didn't want any help on her adventures... at least not help that she didn't recruit on her own. She nodded in agreement.

"Ok, I can manage that. But..." she cringed a bit as she asked her question, "Who exactly do you plan on sending to accompany me? Please don't say it's Azan..."

"No...no...it's not Azan Castle." If Shea being as small a country as it is in the realm, if it lost one of its strongest warriors, it would spell doom in the long run. Other countries will eventually get wiser and try something. As the King, when making decisions, he was no longer able to take decisions on an emotional basis. "He is of the same generation as you. You may or may not know him...but who I have in mind is an Ironhide, the son of Lord Rexxar," Yes...the very same guy who used to bully Ali back when he was weak and powerless before he realized his true strength. "As you know, in recent years, we've been trying to mend the division of clans, and we have succeeded in mending a lot of ties, and the boy's disposition towards us has been entirely apart from those of the older generation. Him being a...well. Najila. I want you to be friends with him." The daughter of the King and the Prince of the Ironhides getting along together is certainly going to create ripples that will be for the better.

She rose an eyebrow and tilted her head to one side.

"So, all I have to do is drag an Ironhide with me and you'd be happy? Alright," she replied with a smirk, "That's fine by me. I just hope he can keep up is all."

Truthfuly, Najila doubted that an Ironhide would be of much help to her at all. Well, unless she chose to use him for cover, that is. Still, it probably wouldn't hurt to have someone watching her back. Hopefully, he wouldn't have a knife in his hand whilst doing so.

"So, can I go ahead and meet this person?"