After Piccolo's possession incident, their training ended for the day.
He rested inside the antechamber, while Reed loaded up on books and flew onto the roof. As if complying with his randomly-imposed self-study period, she left her bookshelf out beside her bed.
He took it as an invitation to read the whole collection.
In just a night and a day, he had scanned every single magic tome and committed every useful spell to memory. Sure enough, there were subjects beyond his talent, but he was blindsided by all the high-level spells that could be done without Dragon Clan powers. In fact, he was starting to wonder if that magic had been thoughtlessly mystified due to a reliance on inborn ki-shaping ability. In other words, from his viewpoint as a martial artist, a whole crap-ton of sorcery could be done by just manipulating objects or blasting lines in the dirt. And, yes, even by spilling some blood (as Reed had demonstrated).
While Piccolo underwent his impromptu study session, Reed, too, was hard at work. Practicing her skills, she marked the silence with random rooftop explosions and her smothered sobbing.
Piccolo knew it well: she was truly a miserable witch.
Of course he noticed the rippled, creased spots of water-damage in the pages of her library. After witnessing her succession of failures, he understood their nature. She was one of those who cried out her frustrations. One of those types; a fighter whose every failure was a gut-punch to the shreds of her dignity. Yes, familiar. He understood her type well: she was one who weathered through uncontrollable bouts of self-disgust and wounded pride, only to emerge more determined and thus, terrifying. For the uninitiated, or at least the mentally well-balanced, such bouts looked like silly temper tantrums. But he knew better than to mock the cries of the soul. Such passion was the foundation of true fighting spirit, after all. For this reason, he left her alone to work it out.
Though, perhaps he was just waiting for her to come to her senses. When would she recognize that he needed answers already?
Though he waited, the next day came and went without her appearance. She didn't even crawl into bed that night—an activity she usually made a big scene about with all her pajama changing and teeth-brushing.
In the cold hours of the morning, he grumbled away his aloofness and, with the excuse of a spare blanket, flew onto the roof to see her. There he found her knocked-out. Despite her botched spells, she had managed to heal her arm: the arm wrecked by her own barrier.
A barrier for archfiend-level ghosts.
Again, the image of a billion, cut-up pieces of monster flesh shooting into the depths of space moved in his mind.
Ever since that possession incident, he'd had insights: working theories about there being something more to those wizards and their witch hunt—something that Reed hadn't mentioned yet. The obvious take was that an unknown power resided within her. The official story, Capos absorbing her as a bullying-fueled power move, was good enough, but Piccolo had always sensed another element involved. After Reed's past few incidents, disturbing space amoebas included, it was starting to all come together.
Reed's entire magic village was at Capos' command, and with so many skilled mages at his disposal, he could achieve anything he wanted. He could even divine the Dragon Balls, or a greater power anywhere in the universe, and make his way there while absorbing anyone who got in his way.
So why was Capos stuck on Reed? An awkward witch whose only redeeming qualities were her hardiness and the fact that she was kind-of, maybe, SORTA arguably cute? As Piccolo stood there in front of the stove (on the evening of the third day), he considered this point. And the possibilities curb stomped him.
For a moment, Piccolo forgot all about his freaky trip to demon space. His mind swam in suspicion instead. "That's impossible," he said aloud.
What if, for one reason or another, Capos wanted Reed as some kind of bride?
This idea rattled through Piccolo's gut like a can of rocks being kicked down a hill. "That's MESSED-UP," he yelled, clawing at his head, ready to fight his own brain, "and on so many levels!" Troublesomely, while rendering all these detailed levels, a strange delusion hit him: in it, the mysterious figure known as Capos broke into the Time Chamber and bound them with magic. Working as a shadowy fiend, the wizard forced a kiss on a crying Reed—right before Piccolo's very eyes.
Piccolo grunted as he wrestled with this stupid and imaginary scenario. "Urgh!" he let out. "Forget it! I don't even want to think about this anymore." There was no reason to. In all likelihood, Capos just needed Reed's power, whatever it was. This much could be figured because, almost too coincidentally, Capos grew strong enough to lead his village only after taking Reed's brother. It was goddamn Perfect Cell all over again. Didn't this ever end?
Oh... no...
Didn't that make him Krillin?
He growled in distressed rage. No! He was a being of reason! And the only comparisons he needed to be making right now were ones that helped solve this mystery! A wizard born as a witch, and a witch born as a wizard... So far, that was all that seemed special about Reed and Cork. None of Reed's books even mentioned such a topic, so that was a dead end. If only there was someone around that could be shaken for some answers. The only person coming close to this description was Reed's creator and mother of sorts, the Old Witch.
The magic village…
Piccolo couldn't imagine going there any time soon.
He watched the pork bun meat burble in the giant pot on the stove before him. "Damn it," he said, tearing away from his thoughts. "I made too much." A simple mistake, considering how much he was used to cooking for ravenous Saiyan brats. He scraped the meat around with a spoon. Reed was more or less human, and even in her hungriest moments, she only ever a dozen servings at once. However, maybe even that wasn't normal for a human...
In any case, the nature of Reed's secret abilities haunted him. They didn't make any sense. "What would they even be?" he asked himself. "Her awful cooking skills?" He scoffed. But then the sight of the statue-like Reed smashing to pieces recoiled in his memories.
Even if he didn't have the full picture, he knew his instincts were correct. There was no way she was clueless, either. She was definitely hiding something from him!
His right ear twitched at a nearby noise. It was time! Spooning some bun meat into a bowl, he set it aside on the counter and turned his back. On cue, a hand reached up for the bowl. Piccolo focused. With the reflexes of someone mid-battle, he lashed out, catching Reed by the crook of the arm and reeling her up. "And what do you think YOU'RE doing?" he spat.
Her mouth quivered. "Hunger..." she said, thinking that was an appropriate answer.
His forehead tensed. "I didn't expect this to work so soon." But it made sense; for as far as he knew, she hadn't eaten for days. "Now we can do this the hard way," he scooped her under his arm, "or we can do this the easy way." He locked her against his side.
It didn't take long for Reed's usual nervousness to take over. Her heart rate doubled and a gauze-like signal erupted from her brain. Face reddened, eyes widened, her aura shone like bubbles and her entire body shook like a loose gutter in a wind storm.
Wait, wasn't this atmosphere kind of unwarranted?
Piccolo grunted and nearly dropped her. Setting back his initial confusion, he stuck her face in front of the meat pot instead. "I have a backlog of questions, and it's time you answer them. We may have been busy studying, but I know for a fact that you've been avoiding me!"
"Nnh!" Reed refused.
This little...! He felt the blood rushing to his head. "If you know what's best for you," he said, menacing by force, "you'll talk! You'll tell me whatever it is you're hiding from me." He stuck her nose inches from the spoon handle. "Or you'll be making yet another mealtime monster!"
Reed's euphoric brainwaves flat-lined and she yelled, wriggling. This only moved her closer to the pot. Gasping inwardly, she held off.
"Did you think I wouldn't notice?" Piccolo asked, clearly at odds with his actions. "Yesterday, I saw it during my possession. The monster I saw..." He tensed-up. "It looked like the kind of thing you'd make by your own hand!"
Reed wilted into a bundle of dead weight.
He went on: "Just how many of those monsters have you made before?"
She looked away and gulped. "I haven't..." she trailed off.
"Explain."
For what is was worth, she seemed remorseful. "That was the first one," she admitted, squeezing her fingers together, "but now, I can't be certain what all my failed potions and dishes will become in millions or even hundreds of years from now…" She went limp, suppressed by dread. "I've made so many of them..."
"That's not normal for a witch! Is it?"
She tensed again, and though she said nothing, sweat poured from her brow. How could she be any more obvious?
Piccolo watched her in silence, and after awhile, he set her down gently. Without any anger, he placed the spoon in her hand.
This almost fooled her, but only for a moment.
She shrieked as they fought to maintain control over the wooden utensil.
"Start talking or you'll start stirring!" he yelled, grunting and struggling to assign her to her doom.
She cried, again. "I'm so sorry!" she burst, gaining ground on the spoon handle. "You're right, it isn't normal! I'm not normal!" She was only saying this to save her lunch.
"That much can be figured out just by looking at you!" Piccolo let go of the spoon, sending Reed teetering off. "Just what kind of curse do you have? That's what it is! Isn't it?"
In no time at all, the complete confirmation of this fact was revealed by the open-mouthed glare on Reed's face. That reminded Piccolo: he still had to break her out of that bad habit of telegraphing all her moves. With an aside glance, he huffed. "This has something to do with you being Capos's target, doesn't it? I don't like being ran around anymore than you do. Tell me what you're hiding."
"I don't know," she said, still having the audacity to lie.
"You don't?"
"It's really impossible." So she really had been holding-out on him this whole time!
His patience snapped. "You!" He didn't hold back this time, and through his telekinisis alone, Reed yanked back like a marionette and conducted her to stir the pot. Deadly dark fumes poured out into the kitchen.
"WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?" Reed screamed, watching as her own arm betrayed her, stirring. "Oh no…" Her eyes glimmered. "Oh, barbecue pork bun meat..." She hiccuped through the foul stink, mourning its loss. "Please! Listen to me, teacher. I'm telling the truth. I don't know anything. My problem isn't so simple. If it was a curse, it'd be obvious. If it was a spell, it could be removed. " She choked on the spreading smoke. "Instead, it's all because… It's all because I didn't come out right in the cauldron. Because of me," she stopped struggling and her arm stirred faster, "my brother didn't come out right either. It's all my fault, because... I am a mistake."
Piccolo released his telekinetic hold, revealing that Reed had already gave into a depressive slump. He turned his back and huffed, allowing her some space to recover. "I'm not trying to rub it in, OK? I just want to know what I'm in for, that's all," he said. "Maybe I didn't make this clear before, but since you're now both my student and liability, you're obligated to tell me anything relevant or important. You know..." He had to stop himself there. He wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that she wasn't a mistake, but he was already pissed off at her for even thinking such a thing. "Never mind. Just get yourself together already. There's no time for feeling sorry for yourself. As a fighter, one makes enough enemies as it is. Stay on your own side or you'll always be a weakling."
She looked the other way and sucked in her lips. Her cheeks bulged. This was…
This! Now she was just pouting! What the?! He was TRYING to cheer her up—and make her stronger to boot! What a thankless witch!
With an unrestrained breath, Piccolo grabbed the pot of ruined meat by the handles and took it over to the sink.
"W-wait," Reed said, switching around, "You wouldn't…!"
In one fell swoop, he turned on the tap and dumped the pot down the sink.
Reed held her head and bleated, "WHY?...!", her voice reverberating throughout the entire chamber.
"Next lesson," Piccolo said. "This time, you'll be fighting the monster that comes up, all by yourself." He washed the pan at a unseeable speed, hanging it up to dry. "I won't help you, even if it swallows you whole." He tore off his apron and threw it on the counter.
Reed's gaze hardened. She couldn't figure out if this was her next lesson or next punishment. Her stomach grumbled anyway. She was sorry, but that wouldn't do her any good. Lunch was gone and now death awaited her.
"What are you standing around for?" Piccolo said, folding his arms. "You'd better get ready. IF you want to eat again." He watched as Reed sped off into the other room, leaping over books to get her gi.
The sink burbled-up frothy red-orange liquid. As the bubbles grew in size, they opened and became dozens of vertically-slit eyes. "Oh?" Piccolo emitted, both fascinated and disgusted by the gross backup. "A monster generated even faster this time." Perhaps he'd been onto something. This confirmed it... Seemingly, Reed's power was so unrestrained, she was performing living creation magic by merely touching anything resembling a witches' brew. It was a mere byproduct of her daily meals, much like with the creature from his vision. Her creations were even increasing in power alongside her.
But what the hell? How? Why?
The sink soon overflowed with eyeball foam. Reed tore into the room with her baggy uniform pants on inside-out. "It WHAT?" she blurted, fumbling to tie her crooked blue belt. She cried out as the disgusting foam poured over the counter and onto the floor. "How can this be?" She recoiled, her fingers outstretched. "The last one took at least an hour..."
The eyes twitched amidst the pillowy foam. Focusing, they gained awareness—and a purpose. Eat, expand, and produce.
Sensing its single-minded intent, Piccolo leapt away. "Get back," he yelled, stunned by its compounding strength. "That thing… it's like a disease!"
Reed moved a split second too late. The foam expanded and imploded, and though she jumped and blocked, eyeballs splattered down her arms. She gasped; the nightmarish organisms were etching into her skin. She watched it web up her arms, like a road map, until mushroom-like growths pushed up and fruited. "EH?" she chirped. It was rooted on her. And now, it was growing. Did it perhaps come up from that drain dimension, after an eternity of hunger, in search of flesh?
With a yelp, Reed's ki barrier snapped up and incinerated the cannibalizing foam. Even still, more of it gushed out from the sink. The eyes glared at her, their veins pulsating in their whites as they swarmed.
"AH! AHH! HAH!" she yelled, pelting the organism with blasts. Each hit disintegrated the sink, the counter, and then eventually, the entire kitchen wall. She kept blasting and yelling at the ever-expanding life form.
Piccolo could only watch, slack-jawed, as the situation spun increasingly out of control. This was bad! What was this energy? Its magnitude... was multiplying every second.
Breaking from the last round of blasts, Reed panted. "It's no good," she said, dispersing the blasts further apart in time as she moved away, "I'm either feeding it with my attacks, or... it's just too much to even deal with!" She dodged out of the open hole in the kitchen wall and retreated.
Piccolo flew close behind, bewildered by the monster's growth. "Listen," he said, scowling and twitching, "I know I said I wouldn't help you with this, but..."
"Teacher, I'll do this myself!" she said, sliding to a stop before the oncoming vomit-like mountain of nightmares. "I wanted to show you... I've been practicing that move from our very first battle!"
"That move?"
"The extra credit one!" Reed stopped and steadied her footing, stubbornly facing the oncoming monster.
Piccolo froze beside her, his mind already racing with the reality of the enemy's power level. Without understanding anything, he'd unleashed a force capable of destroying worlds. Why did he push things this far? This lesson had to end now, before they fell any deeper into this mess—before this thing managed to escape the chamber.
But how?
He could only think about how hastily he'd acted this time—purposefully creating yet another vile monster—and how foolishly he'd given into his new anxieties. The basis of their form was... a simple wish. More than anything, he wanted to know more about Reed. And without any reason, without knowing, he'd become possessive before the fact. He grunted, paralyzed by his realization of his own weakness. This alone allowed his student to act.
She moved before he could gather his mind enough to understand their mistake.