Chiaoutzu's doll-like eyes fluttered; there was some disturbance in the night, he could feel it. The sun would be up soon, filling the quiet temple with its masterful light, and he could see through the large open doorway that the night sky was beginning to etch itself with a telltale hue of blue and violet; day was indeed coming. But, glancing around, the little emperor noticed his friends still sleeping, and even Kaio looked to be in a sort of deep meditative state something like sleeping. So why had he awoken?

He rolled off of the stone bench that had been his bed, feeling his joints smart from the unyielding stone against which he had been pressed for a handful of slow hours. In silence Chiaoutzu moved toward the yawning doorway, gazing out at the vista of blackened mountains slowly rising to a very deep green under a brightening cosmos. Something was amiss…

"You… Chiaoutzu…!"

Chiaoutzu started at the sound of the voice. He knew it. Piccolo!

"Chiaoutzu… please help me… or I am going to die."

Looking to his right, he started further, seeing a dark heap at the edge of the temple, halfway against the stone walkway that ran around it; the other part was straggled off against the grass, as if it had just barely made it to the building with the rest of its strength.

Completely unsure of what to do, Chiaoutzu ran over to where Piccolo was lying, the Namekian's body covered in grievous wounds. The grasses and stones were darkened with purple ichor. It looked bad, as if Piccolo had ran into the Saiyans again.

"But… but how can you die?! How can you bleed?!"

"Because, Chiaoutzu," Piccolo sneered with impatience, "We were granted our bodies as a special favor in order to train with Kaio-sama. But if our bodies are destroyed, what will happen to us? We are outside of the limits of Otherworld… where souls are tethered. If our bodies are destroyed here…" The Namekian gasped for air.

"Okay! I understand, enough!" Chiaoutzu placed his hand over Piccolo's mouth, a move he never would have tried had the green-skinned warrior not been hardly able to move from pain and fatigue. "Let me get you inside!"

—(Inside the temple…)—

Piccolo was now laid out across the bench the injured Tenshinhan had once occupied, whereas Tenshinhan was now standing and looking out of the wide threshold through which Piccolo had been hefted into the temple; a series of bandages had been wrapped about his torso, but otherwise he looked to be recovering quickly. After all, it took a lot to put Tenshinhan down, and even more to keep him there.

Kaio stood beside the faded Namekian, studying him with worried eyes shaded by small dark glasses.

"So you found him this morning, like this?" The Lord of Worlds addressed Chiaoutzu solemnly, and his voice sounded miles away from the chortling snorting laughter of a would-be comedian delivering his best line.

"Yes… I woke up because I sensed something was wrong, and I went outside, and he was barely awake and he called to me to help him. I tried to sense what might have happened to him," the mentalist sighed, "But it was all too clouded with something evil."

"It must be Garlic!" Yamcha's face darkened with distress. "He must have attacked Piccolo when nobody else was around, and ambushed him!"

Suddenly the Namekian produced a wry, half-scoffing chuckle. "You got that right… only I didn't see Garlic… just his ugly cronies. They attacked me on the outskirts of the island, all four of them… and I still took one down."

They reacted in amazement as his speech. "You really got one?!" Yamcha clapped his hands together, smiling. "That oughta teach 'em a thing or two!"

However, Kaio was worried about other things. They had taken Piccolo in and stopped his wounds up, and he was healing; but the worst was far from over.

"I don't think it will," Kaio said after a moment. He was frowning with far-off concern—one of his most typical expressions aside from the big, dumb smile he wore after cracking a particularly bad joke. Finally, he spoke again. "The four of you just rest up tonight. The tournament begins tomorrow and I think for now we should proceed as if nothing out of the ordinary has transpired."

Tenshinhan stared at Kaio for a time, trying to wrap his mind around the god's wisdom. "Normally I would agree with you, lord, except that Piccolo is mightily injured, and I am only just recovering… how are we going to be able to fight tomorrow at our full potential?"

Dark sunglasses watched Tenshinhan. "Well, you probably won't be able to fight at full tomorrow, but that doesn't mean you can't still fight. You will have to deal with your limitations as they arise—but that would be true anyhow! Think of it like giving the other participants a handicap!" Kaio smiled for the first time since Piccolo had been brought in. Then he strolled toward the entrance to the temple. "Just all of you get some rest. I'll see you tomorrow for the tournament."

The room became peacefully quiet after Kaio-sama departed. Tenshinhan and Chiaoutzu returned to their bed-mats on the floor, and Piccolo remained stretched across one of the benches, almost completely still and breathing slowly, his body beginning a staggered recovery. Only Yamcha seemed restless, sitting cross-legged with his shoulders propped against a stone wall. Although he was reluctant to disturb the rest of the other three, two of which he knew were still recovering from the attacks, Yamcha still had burning questions that had gone unanswered. What did this new threat mean? If they died fighting in the tournament, would they simply vanish… forever?

He gulped, and turned his eyes to each of them in succession, still figures forming gently silhouettes in the dark. "Goodnight, you guys, and good luck tomorrow" he whispered, before closing his eyes, slipping into a drowsy decline that would ultimately bring him to sleep.

—(No more worries—it's time to fight!)—

The air was supercharged with the electric buzz of a universal (no pun intended) excitement; over 1000 warriors were gathered in the courtyard on the dream-like island, and the preliminaries were about to begin! Overnight, small circular fighting rings had magically been constructed; of a size so that the largest among all the participants (who happened to be a massive turtle-like creature called Fuya) would, standing up, take up about half of the ring. Here, over the course of the next few hours, the intergalactic cast of competitors would face off against one another until only 16 remained to go on to the semifinals; and from there 8; and from there 4; down to the very last match between the two strongest of them all. There were exactly 1024 people registered to fight, and the progression of elimination rounds would move as such during the preliminaries:

[ 1024 512 256 128 64 32 16

This meant that losing even once forced a competitor out of the running for good.

At the center of a courtyard, the four Kaios (from each of the cardinal galaxies) stood together on a large wooden tower along with the official tournament announcer, who looked to be one of the monks from the temple that had offered refuge to the warriors from Earth the night before. Flanked by the gods of the four respective galaxies, he stepped up to the front of the tower holding a large megaphone. The crowd below quieted down as the megaphone turned on, emitting a loud screech.

"Um… excuse me, yes… HELLO, HELLO, IS THIS ON?!" The megaphone screeched again and even the Kaios winced. The old monk didn't seem to notice anything.

"Yes, well, ahm, WELCOME TO THE OTHERWORLD MARTIAL ARTS TOURNAMENNNNNT!!!" Screeeeech. "The Gods and I are most pleased to see what a terrific turnout there's been this time! A lot of fresh new faces, and of course some returning champions!" Screech. "The preliminaries will begin shortly. We have created exactly 50 small rings in which to hold the preliminaries, so that the first heat must have about 20 matches, the next 10, and so on, because there are so very many of you. Therefore in the interest of time—and yes, I realize you're all dead—we shall limit each round to no more than FIVE MINUTES!" Screeeeeech. "Behind me on the northern wall is the Official Preliminary Matching Chart—or, ahm, the chart that says who you'll be fighting and in which ring and in which order. We'll know who wins and who loses, so no funny business! Shortly I'll turn it over to the referees, also monks of my order," he was proud of this, "But first, a word from our sponsors! The Four Kaios!" Screeech.

There was a chorus of raucous applause for the Kaios, mostly from the monks (known officially as the Order of the Floating Dream), as well as some mixed unfriendly remarks from the warriors. Somewhere in the crowd the four sole Northern Galaxy participants stood huddled among strange shapes and faces, and they talked among themselves as the Kaios blathered about something or other.

"Piccolo… how are you feeling?" Tenshinhan faced the Namekian with certain concern.

"I'll be fine. Let's just all focus on getting through these preliminaries. I've been checking out the crowd here—most of them shouldn't be a problem."

"Au das vah joo dink!!" A towering, lumbering lion-like creature beside them bellowed, guffawing rather stupidly. "Easturn Gahaxy vanna vill vin!!!"

"Apparently the Eastern Galaxy vanna not talk right either," Yamcha smirked.

"VAT JOO SAY?!"

"Enough, enough," Tenshinhan said to Yamcha. "Let's keep our head in the game here."

"Well, c'mon man, listen to this guy…"

Within a few moments (after the Kaios had sung their own praises for organizing "yet another splendid gathering of the universe's finest") the preliminaries were underway. The first fifty matches began, and Yamcha found himself entering the ring straight away, pitted against a bulky muscular fellow in a white dogi. Piccolo, Chiaoutzu, and Tenshinhan watched from a short distance. The "ring" was really little more than a circular mat resting on the ground of the courtyard.

A monk stepped ringside to oversee the fight as the two contestants bowed to one another, probably not as low as they ought to have.

"Alright… Tobler from the Western Galaxy… and Yamcha from the Northern Galaxy. You may begin when ready. Remember, no killing, no eating, keep the name-calling to a minimum, and there's a five-minute time limit."

Yamcha nodded across to his opponent. "Ready?"

Tobler grinned, brushing heavy blond locks back over his shoulders. "You don't need to ask!" He suddenly charged Yamcha, lifting a hefty elbow to swing lightning-fast at the Earthling's chin. The bandit leaned his body backward just in time, feeling the rush of air as Tobler's elbow narrowly missed his face. Crouching his lithe body close to the mat of the ring, Yamcha kicked hard at Tobler's closest heel; the large man lost his balance and stumbled for only a moment—but Yamcha took the opening, springing to his feet and attacking Tobler with a series of lightning punches and kicks. The blond warrior was tenaciously defensive, however, batting away Yamcha's limbs like so many paper cranes, before staggering him with a heavy knee to his stomach, robbing him of wind. Yamcha staggered backward, gasping for breath.

"I'll end this right now!" Tobler rushed the heaving Yamcha, aiming a knockout blow at the square of his jaw.

"Gah… no!" At the last moment, Yamcha hopped into the air, pumping his foot into Tobler's head—a desperate kick to be sure. Both fighters connected, knocking each other backward and down onto the mat.

"Uhm, excuse me, sir." A monk of the Order addressed Piccolo, peering up at his high white shoulder pads. "I believe you have a match starting over in ring number 22."

Piccolo grunted, turning toward Tenshinhan. "I've got to see to that. You let me know which one of them gets up and finishes it." With a turn and a flourish of his cape the Namekian ended the exchange, moving away through the busy courtyard alongside the short old monk who had fetched him.

—(Will it be Yamcha or Tobler? And what about Piccolo?)—

Piccolo stepped with some hesitance into the ring, trying to get a feel for the strange artificial terrain of which it was made. Across from him stood a thin bald man of medium-height with pale bluish skin. The man bowed to him after a moment, although Piccolo did not return the gesture of respect.

The monk who had guided Piccolo to the ring stood beside it holding an enormously large ledger. He spoke at length, "Yes, yes, well… Piccolo from the Northern Galaxy, and you will be facing… Mishu from the Eastern Galaxy. Remember, no killing, no whining, keep any advertising or product-placement to a minimum… ahm, there's to be no overdoing of poses or power-up stances, no referencing past or future battles… please keep bragging to a minimum… you may not at any time question the soundness of your opponent's shoestrings…"

"Might we get on with it?" Piccolo glared at the monk.

"Oh, well, yes! You may begin when ready!"

Before the sound of the old monk's voice had faded from the air Piccolo was closing in on Mishu. With a fierce yell the Namekian swiped a clawed hand across the blue fellow's brow, slashing his face open and knocking him onto the ground. As Mishu attempted to recover himself, Piccolo moved in, slamming his foot into Mishu's abdomen with a wet thwacking sound. Which made sense, of course, because as his foot connected Mishu's body dissolved into a viscous bright blue liquid, washing over Piccolo's leg and pooling around his body.

"What? What in the—!?"

The blue stuff on his leg began to harden, weighing him down a good deal. Meanwhile Mishu's body reformed in front of him, bowing again in a gracious manner.

"You are fierce, yes, green one; but I fear this will be your last match."

Piccolo was caught up in frozen liquid, his legs rendered useless. Without further ado, Mishu began to lay into him, punishing his stomach and chest with a series of powerful and fast kicks. Every hit stunned him and broke his concentration, making his situation only that much more chaotic and confusing. Soon he could taste bitter blood in his mouth. All he could do to defend himself was try to hit Mishu's legs aside before they connected, and half of the time he only ended up directing the fellow's pointy shoes to some other location of his body.

"You will have to give up, green warrior! Soon your body will be too weak and you will fade!"

Mishu paused, gauging Piccolo's response. The Namekian heaved for a moment, and then, slowly, a chuckle came out of him.

"Eh!? You laugh at pain?"

"You're right," Piccolo huffed. "Without my legs it is difficult to out-maneuver you in this tiny space. But I have been hesitant to use my full power because I am saving my body for a more difficult match. There are many here stronger than you."

"Well you had better do something, hadn't you?"

"Once again you speak the truth." Piccolo grinned, his teeth purpled with blood. "I guess it's good for me that I only need half my power to take you out!"

"What?!"

Piccolo's body tensed and his ki flared. Certain heads in the courtyard turned, including Kaio-sama's. Suddenly, the Namekian split into two: one remained frozen in the blue goo, while the other seemed to spring right out of Piccolo—an exact copy of him, except with half the power. Mishu's eyes widened as the second Piccolo descended violently upon him, delivering a rocketing kick to his chest that launched him right out of the ring.

"That's the match! Ring out!" The monk wrote something down in the ledger and slammed it shut, bowing to Piccolo.

Piccolo shook the now-melted goo off of his legs as he remerged into one warrior again. He glanced toward the monk. "When he wakes up… tell him he left part of himself laying around in the ring."

Meanwhile, on the tower, Kaio-sama was watching the preliminaries with special interest. Being that the Northern Galaxy had only 4 participants while the other three had entered many times that number, it was important to him that the Z-Senshi carved their way through the first few preliminary heats. But more importantly he had his eye on a couple of fighters that did not seem to represent any of the cardinal galaxies… the silver-cloaked Kattatsu, and another strange dark warrior whose name he did not know, but from whom there radiated a chilling power…


Whoa! Long time no see huh? I'm so sorry that I took such a hiatus between the last chapter and this next one. Sometimes life runs you ragged and you kind of forget about some things. But I promise for all the people who were following this story that I'm going to regularly be updating from now until it's finished. You have my word. The tournament has officially begun and the next few chapters will deal with all the mystical warriors and amazing battles therein! Hope you enjoy, and please read/review, as always!