Note: Takes place early on post-Cell within "God Smitten" and "Eyes Only For You" and at the onset of "Don't Smell the Rozealeas". You don't need to read any of those before reading this, but events in "God Smitten" will help you understand why things are the way they are here.
Map of
DRAGONBALL(⁂)RETRO
Legend:
[ ! ] Has *very* important related events to current story
[ - ] Has events related to current story
[ x ] Not yet published
[ .. ] In progress
[ o ] Complete
CHRONOLOGY:
"Don't Smell the Rozealeas" [ o ]
"Look At the Dark (Mirare Obscura)" [ x ]
"Eyes Only For You" [ o ]
"What Didn't Really Happen" [ .. ]
"Truer Than Love" [ .. ]
"God Smitten" [ o ][ – ]
"Recipe For A Dragon" {YOU ARE HERE}
"Valentine Scramble" [ .. ]
"Foreshock" [ x ]
"Upside-Down Inside-Out" [ x ]
Warnings/Tags: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Post-Cell, May (Or May Not) Be Retroverse Compliant, (It's A Surprise), Suspense, Thriller, Angst, Gothic Mystery & Horror Elements, Gothic Erotic, Ideologically Sensitive, Dark & Disturbing Themes, Canon Overhaul, Fix-It Fic (Somewhat), Origins Reconfigured, Retroactive History & World Rebuilding, Possession, Psychological Warfare, Emotional Manipulation, Mind Games, Sexual Content, Dubious Consent, Mild Gore, Selfcest, Pseudo Incest, Forbidden Techniques, Assimilation, Re-Assimilation, Non-Consensual Fission, Magical Duel, Not Your Typical Dragon Slaying Battle, Starts Out Dialogue & Narrative-Heavy, Bad Ending(?), Foreshadowing, Divine Ki, Namek God (Mentions of), Dragon God (Mentions of), (Belated) Happy Hatchday Piccolo-san!, NSFW, Story #84,シェンP, 飯Ｐ, 腐向け
Disclaimer: Dragon Ball/Z/GT/Xenoverse/Super/etc. belong to their respective owners. I own nothing except this derivative fanwork which I do not profit from.
Story #84:
"Recipe For A Dragon"
This is for you, Piccolo-san.
It always has been.
️
––
THE APPRENTICE GODLING WAS DEAD SILENT as he escorted his companion to the threshold, retreated back to the other side of the ancient door, and swiftly dissolved behind it as it slowly bolted shut, as if orchestrated by some invisible force.
Piccolo Daimaoh Jr found himself alone inside the *Forging Room even before he could be surprised about it.
Dende requested his presence that afternoon on an "urgent matter": a problem that required ad hoc assistance from none other than god himself…
While he was indeed—by no free will of his but purely by "patrimony"—the current stand-in kamisama of Earth, he had no conscious knowledge of how dragon balls or mystical dragons were created or reforged; however, his apprentice had pithily adumbrated that the chamber had everything to do with their mission, therefore, everything to do with him.
This was, in a way, where the guardian-in-training's problems ended and where Piccolo's began.…
.
The Forging Room was designed specifically for forging, or in this case, "reforging" the mystical dragon of Earth. That's what was divulged to him when he was brought before the entrance of the said chamber only minutes ago. Dende had already attempted to gain entry into the room, only to be repeatedly repelled. It became apparent then, that the said room did not welcome everyone, not even the apprentice godling himself who was in line to become the next kamisama.
For reasons unbeknownst to them, the room welcomed only the "master of the house"—the present god of the planet exclusively, as the young Namek had correctly guessed.
The room was singular in that feature; all other known quarters within the floating temple were accessible enough to all of its guests—provided they *were pure-souled enough, hence, "worthy" to set foot in the sacred structure in the first place. The discovery of such a special room led Dende to believe that there may be more undiscovered rooms restricted solely to the incumbent Earth guardian, and that perhaps it first needed to be "unlocked" by its keeper, in order for others to be able to use it.
Whatever the case may be, the room needed investigating, and being the only one it would admit, Piccolo was left with no choice.
It wasn't exactly his introduction to the said room. He was acquainted with it, to some degree: he had seen a very young Kami inside it in one exceptionally vague *memory broadcast he witnessed whilst exploring the temple in his dreams. It was, however, his first time to actually be inside the Forging Room. There were still only-Kami-himself-knows-how-many-more undisclosed rooms within Kami no Shinden's timeless and mysterious walls (he estimated that he had been made aware of at least half of all in existence so far – a fact which Kami has neither confirmed nor denied).
The knowledge of this specific chamber was something only fairly recently revealed to Dende and only due to a most pressing necessity:
The revival of those who died untimely deaths in the hands of Dr Gero's abominations.
For that, they needed a working set of dragon balls.
.
As it happens, following Kami's rejoining with Piccolo, the dragon balls were rendered inert upon Shenron's deactivation. Therefore, their mission, first and foremost, was to revive the mystical dragon.
Roughly a century ago, long before he came into existence – that was the last time the Forging Room had been used for such a purpose. He hadn't exactly prodded (he rarely ever did) but those obscure details were the only scraps of information that floated up to his conscious mind courtesy of the former kamisama as he descended the steps into the floating temple's bowels, right before he set foot in the sacred chamber.
Now alone in the Forging Room with nothing else to do and not really knowing what to do, the Earth-born Namek let his eyes roam the almost vacuous enclosure…
.
Circular and spacious, roughly fifteen metres in diameter with a breathtakingly high dome ceiling consisting of layered, rounded trays that radiated from an intricate cupola at its centre. The oval-shaped, palpebra-like cupola eerily resembled an enormous open eye, vigilantly watching whoever entered its domain below. Except that, in place of an iris and pupil, inside that eye was a painting of what appeared to be a two-dimensional supernova.
Although the mural was badly weathered—the once vibrant hues of reds, oranges, bright yellows, and whites discoloured to dirty shades and riddled with hairline cracks—the spectacle was no less spellbinding. In fact, the seasoned warrior found himself holding his breath and arrested in place for some suspended seconds. It was as though the most primaeval ancient part of him knew that it was no ordinary decorative fixture, but a sacred symbol of a forgotten civilization that once hosted a power so great and beyond his time, that it was simply impossible for a soul as young and brand new as his to comprehend.
Finally tearing his gaze from the giant "staring eye" up above, he brought his sights to the walls all around him and noticed that they were, in fact, not barren as he had initially perceived. Every inch of the chamber, from the floor underneath his feet to where the wall met the lowermost soffit, up the layered trays all the way to the outer rim of the "eye" at the top was covered in faded ancient Namekian arcana. Arcana that felt instinctually familiar, but ones he had to rake up equally ancient memories of his past lifetimes to decipher in detail. Nevertheless, going with a cursory inspection, he sensed that the holy glyphs and inscriptions were grafted magically into the chamber's inner parameters in order to enhance a spell-caster's mystical powers.
Piccolo, despite his own soul being a mere infant compared to his predecessor counterparts, was born a hybrid class of warrior and mage Namek, and was himself, built of souls that have lived almost as long as time itself and therefore, wasn't one so easily intimidated by even the most complex of spells. Yet even a mind like his which was arguably one of the most perspicacious in the known world and mired with infinite knowledge of the universes and countless secrets long forgotten, felt terrified for reasons he could not decipher. A chill settled in his bones from the sheer weight of the dormant energy exuding from all around him and the potential destruction it could unleash with just the right combination of precisely uttered words and soul presence.
.
Was this really simply a forging room for the dragon balls…? Too much power…!
.
No sooner had he thought this than the sigils surrounding him began to glow brighter and more vividly, as though they were being freshly delineated upon the room's surfaces those very moments, like they had a life of their own and acknowledged his presence, casting themselves into sharper relief.
Swivelling slowly where he stood which incidentally happened to be the very centre of the rotunda, he surveyed the pulsing symbols which were now starting to radiate heat. One by one, as if precipitated by exigency, he recognized each symbol with greater confidence, but it helped little to ease his growing dread. For it was then that he determined that they were unmistakeably of the most forbidden and fearsome nature. He imagined the kind that could very well easily crush any mystic novice who dared enter its bailiwick. His mage instincts kicked in again, and he knew suddenly what they were…
.
Confining spells.
.
But to confine what?
.
The answer came to him instantaneously in the form of one of Kami's encapsulated memories propelled to his consciousness. But the memory was being pulled back down into the fathomless depths of his superconsciousness too fast, like the dispersing vestiges of a receding dream that he only had time to understand one thing:
.
Shenron.
.
…Before Piccolo's vision washed out in an effusion of brilliant light.
.
…
…
There was something very strange about Dende that day. It wasn't the usual awkward discomfort that Piccolo was accustomed to when around the shy Namek, but a shifty sort of restlessness that seemed so strangely misplaced in his apprentice's normally cherubic countenance. He spoke in a detached, distracted manner and did not make eye contact. Dipping briefly into the shared space of their mind connected via Kami didn't divulge anything beyond what his words did—which was scarce at best. While the uncharacteristic behaviour was certainly noteworthy, Piccolo didn't think it was cause for concern just yet.
It took some time before his—or rather, more of Kami's—student took the initiative to properly explain the reason for his sudden summoning. When Dende finally turned to his mentor whose brows were furrowed by then, hinting the beginnings of impatience, he still dawdled away more minutes to plan out his words carefully, as though a single misspoken utterance would cost millions of innocent lives.
"I know everyone is depending on me to revitalize the dragon balls and restore Shenron…" Dende gripped his staff tightly as he said this, though his expression stayed schooled.
The young Namek looked off into the turbulent sea of cirrus clouds around them and for yet more bated moments, seemed to get lost in its ever-shifting swooping tufts and wisps.
"I know I am not yet powerful enough…"
Dende paused, as if waiting for his companion to say something.
The silence stretched on.
Piccolo planned to let him talk. He's waited long enough.
"The dragon is only ever a mirror of its creator: you all knew this when you asked me to take over as Earth guardian. As far as my mystic powers are concerned, the only tried and tested part of it has been solely for healing (sometimes divination). I've benefited greatly from Kami-sama's wisdom, but… Knowledge without experience is still not wisdom owned. Even with your guidance and Kami-sama's sapience, there are many doors that need to be opened for which I do not yet hold the keys…"
A hollow laugh passed Dende's lips.
"Mage class Nameks are Dragon Clan members by right of birth… But I now understand something that Great Elder Guru once said… How such a terrible thing is perhaps fortunately now of the forgotten past… The godlike powers that once flowed in the veins of our ancestors has long abandoned us… *Post-Rogalian Namek is practically warrior-less and repopulated with casteless Namekian mages whose powers are copacetic but never at par with its forerunners…
*"New Nameks will only ever be a mere shadow of the once great Dragon Clan's… Kami-sama, or should I say, the legendary Nameless Namek was—is—perhaps the last among them."
The apprentice god fell silent. A silence that wasn't broken for some solemn minutes.
.
Piccolo knew that Dende has not actually said anything that he didn't more or less already know… It was impossible to determine what the problem was just yet—whatever it was, it was clearly serious. But his ward had given in to rambling and he knew that the lesser he interfered, the sooner whatever his pronouncement was would reach its denouement…
"Whatever powers I bestow upon a dragon of my creation—or re-creation—will be tethered by these limitations. But it wasn't a stronger power you sought; it was simply a matter of a power that could bring the fallen back to this plane of existence. At least, for the time being."
Dende was indeed recruited to act as Planet Earth's new guardian and keeper of the dragon balls refashioned from whatever was leftover of Shenron's mould, but the prerequisites for achieving this goal under the given circumstances—if at all, achievable—has never been openly divulged. Whatever secrets behind the dragon balls' creation was of the most esoteric, even to original Dragon Clan members themselves.
Kami had intimated once before that this was due to the complexity of the process behind it which differed for each and every dragon. Any Namekian mage can create dragon balls provided they knew the basics of it; whether or not they turn out to be useful was a different matter altogether. Mystical dragons were all powerful in their own right and purpose.
However, mystical, genielike dragons that defied the power of the gods? That required a Dragon Clan mage of exceptional power and integrity— and not only in terms of magical skill and talent, but more than anything, of soul quality. There were numerous tests to be passed, a great deal of worthiness to be proven, and so on and so forth…
Though considered a prodigy among the new generation of Nameks, Dende was a new-sprung soul in the body of child—and that was perhaps his greatest weakness. No matter his capabilities and intellect, he was still centuries away from achieving Great Elder Guru's pre-eminence and was certainly nowhere near at par with Nameless Namekian's preponderance even at half a soul….
Why the former Earth god had chosen one as young as Dende to become the surrogate master of an ancient dragon of Shenron's calibre, however unheard of and preposterous in his mind, was something that Piccolo merely accepted and never questioned. He wasn't interested in keeping his post as god so why would he? It had never been a habit of his to stick his nose in others' affairs.
So now that the young mage was having doubts about his ability to fulfil his mission, Piccolo could offer no measure of encouragement simply because he was not prepared nor equipped for such a scenario. He had (quite naïvely) assumed that the "chosen one" would know what to do; or that, at the very least, Kami knew what he was doing—this was all his plan after all.
At last, Dende looked Piccolo straight in the eye for the first instance since they conferred that afternoon.
"Shenron is aware… of everything."
Mild shock filled Piccolo at how grim and sunken those normally genial eyes were, even as the rest of his visage remained a blank canvas. It was alienating; the young Namek almost looked like a totally different person… Had Dende been like this since this morning?
As if sensing his perturbation, the guardian-in-training averted his gaze, choosing to fixate on the idyllic bordering-mundane horizon.
Once again, in the back of his mind, the behaviour struck Piccolo as odd. Dende looked and sounded part crazed and part defeated, almost passively so – which was a far cry from his lightsome if not occasionally brooding state of mind the past days…
Since Dende's apprenticeship on Earth began, Kami had opened a channel between their minds that, though not as personal nor intimate as the link Piccolo shared with Gohan, was just as serviceable. It was a connection established exclusively for practical—mostly instruction-related—purposes, one that both parties understood needed to be active only for the duration of the training.
Piccolo was not in the habit of peering into Dende's mind even if he could very easily do so without detection—he had no need nor desire to. The mind-link he had with the younger Namek was almost entirely utilized by Kami and Nail alone… Yet, even without prying beneath the surface, he could sense a thick fog clogging the channel at that moment; and that peculiarity is what prompted him to check the connection… Which confirmed his fears…
.
The line was virtually dead.
.
Definitely not a good sign.
.
"Still… I tried… I didn't know… Didn't mean to…" The young Namek was absently absorbed muttering gibberish to himself, as if having completely forgotten his audience of one.
Again, it went on far too long for Piccolo's liking.
Then without warning, those unsettlingly wild and distraught eyes were back boring into his…
"You must know… I only did what I thought was prudent!"
"But… What?" Piccolo could not help but interject through gritted teeth. "Dende. What did you do?"
He knew there was a big, ominous and unspoken 'but' there and even if he didn't have a clue what was to follow after it, he was already pretty damn sure that he wasn't going to like it one bit.
.
"An unforeseen complication has arisen."
…
Dende wordlessly led him down to a lower level of the floating temple in a quadrant that was not yet familiar to him, and soon, Piccolo found himself before a rather large ornate door. In the span of time he had spent there after unwillingly assuming the role of kamisama, he quickly learned that the Kami no Shinden quite literally had a mind of its own. The place always looked the same to everyone else, but as the guardian and the temple's new primary custodian, he was given special treatment…
Every now and then, rooms and areas that previously didn't exist were revealed to him, and, more often than not, for a reason. This made the Forging Room a curious case: it was the first time a secret room in the Kami no Shinden unveiled itself to someone else.
Dende's inexplicably bizarre behaviour, the implications of their frayed telepathic connection, and now, this mysterious door… Despite the shock, confusion, and apprehension he felt, he didn't let any of it register on his face or his actions. Something wasn't right; a powerful force was at play here. That much he sensed. However, at that point, there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Dende spared the new cynosure a passing glance, before settling on whatever it was that he found infinitely more interesting off to Piccolo's side.
"This is the Forging Room."
Piccolo frowned as he warily eyed the said room's sealed entrance. There were no distinct writings on its façade, only incredibly intricate patterns in gilded wrought iron depicting what looked to be a two-dimensional supernova frozen in spectacular mid-explosion.
"It is of paramount importance to our goal to get inside; yet, it so happens that I am unable to enter…"
Piccolo fixed Dende with a hard stare. The latter still blithely refused to meet his eyes.
"I do not think it is wise for you to enter a room that refuses to admit you. There must be a good reason why. If I am to guess… I believe that it's because it isn't time. You aren't ready."
Dende levelled a gaze, expression flat. His mud-brown eyes lustreless. "I agree. That may very well be the case… However…"
Piccolo's frown deepened into a scowl. "However?"
"I don't think that room appeared for me…
.
"…But for god."
…
…
.
Memories of an ancient war, an unholy struggle for power, and an unsparing purging of races flooded his mind in explosive flashes of detail for a sluggish heartbeat and was gone as quickly as they came… Instinctively, he dived after it into the deepest recesses of his vast superconscious to demand more clarity but met no success. It was no wonder. He has never gone that far and that deep; it was far too dangerous. Fishing for secrets of his past selves was not something he regarded a worthwhile pastime…
He came back to his senses on one knee, a fist unforgivingly pressed to the ground for support, gasping for air, and barely able to steady himself. The sound of his own raspy breaths deafening in the grandiloquent, living and breathing ventricle that housed him.
.
No.
.
All of a sudden, clarity hit him full force…
.
This wasn't a forging room at all!
.
It was like standing on a precipice, at the very brink of an unfathomably steep escarpment that overlooked one profound and inconceivable realization. He could almost see the whole picture, except that there were huge chunks still missing, like an incomplete puzzle…
The Super Namek groaned as the pressure inside his skull continued to build. The pain bringing him to his knees and whiting out his vision in fiery brightness. It felt like any moment his head was going to self-destruct.
.
…
…
"Once we recombine, we will truly become one. Everything you are, I will be. Everything I've seen and know, you will too. I will cease to be called 'god' from then on, only 'Piccolo'. And I will lose godhood status as it is passed on to you, along with divine ki. All this, whether you like it or not…
"If this is acceptable to you, then we shall proceed."
The younger counterpart of the once nameless Namekian merely scoffed. "No amount of divine contamination can get me to hole up in this depressing dump for the rest of my life, descrying the stuffy affairs of this planet's pathetic inhabitants and their drearily monotonous existence."
A wrinkly brow climbed up an equally wrinkled forehead.
"I don't give a rat's arse about godhood."
"Yes… So you've said. I understand that." The Earth's guardian narrowed his time-worn eyes at the younger and presently exceptionally irascible Namek. "However, de jure, canonization of the next god can only be performed and passed on by one of divine ki. Once I am gone, there will be no one else qualified to perform the ritual. I highly doubt Cell will sit tight and hold off killing innocents while I seek out a more willing replacement at present."
Piccolo crossed his arms. "You're saying the only way I can get rid of that responsibility is if I found a willing replacement and anointed them god myself? Why can't someone else with 'purer' ki do it? Like, Son for instance. He was your first choice as your successor."
"He was the only one worthy at that time. And while his ki is indeed pure, he is no god. You, on the other hand, already partly are, as we are linked in body and spirit. I know you know this; it is simply something you stubbornly refuse to acknowledge."
"That's because my link to him still remains, as well. And with it, so does my hatred of you."
"Ah." Kami's creased lips turned up at the corners. "A valid point. Be that as it may, it doesn't alter the fact that you've changed beyond recognition over the years. Thanks to that boy, your ki is now pure. Something that I confess I never thought possible. That feat in itself makes you the most worthy candidate to wield divine power. Shame that you resist your destiny."
Piccolo growled low, "My destiny. My choice."
"Very well."
…
"Piccolo…"
"What."
"What… is this?"
"What's the matter, you don't like it? Too late to back out now…"
"I don't believe it… What did you do…"
"What? Were you expecting a welcoming party? I may have had no choice but to re-assimilate you, but need I remind you that I don't exactly like you?"
The former god of Earth wheeled around to face his younger counterpart in the winding tunnel of whatever level of Piccolo's subconsciousness they were traversing.
"This is hardly occasion for ill-timed drollery, Piccolo! This is a very serious matter!"
Piccolo didn't need Kami to elaborate, of course. They were one mind now; that, at least, would have been the case if—
"You should have purged him—you have been powerful enough to. What have you done? WHY?"
When Piccolo only continued to stare blankly at his older self, not reacting in the slightest, the ancient Namekian's eyes grew wide.
"You didn't…?" Kami gasped. "You did! You're not planning on doing that to me too…? No."
"Why not."
"Piccolo, what you're trying to do—"
"—Is better than what you tried to do. You tried to dispose of a part of you. Of me! You threw me away like I was a piece of garbage! And I'm not trying anything. As you can see, it has already been done. After all this time, you still underestimate me."
The shock on Kami's face was undisguised. There was no point in subtlety, not in here.
"How are you even doing this? There is no mistaking it: your ki… it's pure. But then, that means…"
"It means, you made a grave mistake."
"Regardless of my past errs, you're playing with fire here, Piccolo! Do you know why Assimilation is strictly forbidden?"
"Not as forbidden as Fission!"
Kami sighed and closed his eyes. Of course, his intelligent counterpart would figure that out eventually. He supposed it was futile seeing as Piccolo has already clearly thought this through. Perhaps, it's true. He was indeed underestimating him. But still… What he's attempting to accomplish here was unheard of!
Then again, maybe this was simply who Katattsu Jr always has been.
"It seems that even one as old as I still have a lot to learn. I suppose I should have expected no less from the only one who has proven himself worthy of reclaiming our throne among the gods, even far ahead of his time."
"You mean 'us' now. Your sins are mine and mine yours. Souls that have evolved into separate personae, but are essentially still one and the same…
"The son of Katattsu, and Katattsu himself."
Kami looked up, a smile breaking across his kindly, wizened face.
"No… I think Katattsu Jr is no more… There is only Piccolo now."
"Not yet," Piccolo said grimly. "Not until I clean up your mess." His arm is held back by the other when he moved to take the lead.
"Are you sure this is how you want it?"
The fear he picked up from Kami was palpable.
…
'You must know that this could have… cataclysmal, even eschatological repercussions.'
…
…
.
The confinement…
Dragon balls…
This room…
.
A prison.
Kami, as all Dragon Clan mage Namekians that came before him, had poured every scintilla of their power into making sure that only the most foolproof safety measures were in place to circumscribe the mystical dragon.
.
This room…
.
…Is Shenron's cage.
.
A deafening hush fell over the world then. Not the kind of silence Piccolo often sought out yet rarely found… A deathly, unearthly silence which had suddenly pervaded not only the surroundings but also his mind. Kami, Nail, not even his mind-link with Gohan, even some of his memories were inaccessible – something that has never happened before. How was that even possible? Did the chamber have the power to suppress one's mind as well?
Wasn't it only supposed to suppress Shenron?
A trickle of sweat slid from his temple down to the edge of his jaw. It was hastily mopped off but it was soon replaced by another, and another… Slowly, his skin attuned to the rise in temperature. The dread stewing in the pit of his stomach spiked through his veins, spreading like wildfire throughout his entire being.
Piccolo had a sinking feeling that if he stayed in that room for much longer, he would soon be made privy to a terrifying secret…
The real reason why…
The dragon balls were proscribed even by the Kais…
.
Piccolo wasn't curious enough to wait and see.
.
He needed to get out.
.
He struggled to get back on his feet. It felt like trying to move underwater with a body made of lead. His neck strained to reaffirm the location of the exit he had entered which was supposed to be right behind him but…
Where he remembered it had been, there was nothing but wall.
Striving to ignore the overwhelming despair taking root inside of him, he twisted left and right to scan the rest of the room in case he had been turned around without being aware of it and had mixed up his directions…
But after a thorough search of his surroundings, his stomach sank.
There was no door to be found anywhere.
The odds weren't promising, but he wasn't about to keel over and die. Fighting against the oppressive unseen force like magnified gravity pulling him down, he painstakingly managed to push himself up. Time was against him now. If he was going to have even the slightest fighting chance of surviving whatever he was up against, he badly needed a leg-up.
"Dende!" Piccolo boomed, hoping that the room's magical wards did not completely bar telepathic communication the way other rooms in the Kami no Shinden did. "What the devils is going on!"
A wall of resistance rose up in his mind, it was like slamming into an invincible force field so strong, that the mental resistance forced his physical body to crumple back down. He managed to catch himself before he was sent sprawling, his hands clamped over his ears and pressed tightly; it felt like it was the only thing keeping his brain from exploding. The mounting pressure wrenched a scream from his chest, but then the very next instant, it was as though a veil had been drawn over his mind and a resounding silence sliced through the chaos.
Dizzy and disorientated as he was, he forced himself to stand all over again. The spells on the walls had stopped pulsing; the suffocating heat wave had cessated. All around, everything was frozen in a state of suspended animation of sorts—as though time itself had been paused and preserved in that one sextillionth of a second.
Piccolo knew better than to release the pent-up sigh of relief lodged in his throat. His reprieve was temporary; it won't not last long….
His consciousness had been transported, if only partially, to an astral plane of existence—
'Piccolo-sama.'
Dende's mindscape.
'I do not know how long I can maintain this connection. I was only able to amplify our mind-link by riding the residual energy that still runs to and from Shenron's original glass globe in there and its replica out here.'
Dende's form materialized in front of him like a fuzzy hologram.
'I apologize for this outcome. I had no choice in the matter: it was the room that demanded your presence, not I.'
"What do you mean you had no choice?" Piccolo heaved, still severely out of breath. "Explain. Be thorough about it. And no more stalling."
The young Namek nodded. 'In the months that I have observed remnants of Shenron's hibernating energy within its globular nest, I noticed something irregular—but I wasn't sure at first because it was so faint…. A heartbeat.
'I managed to affirm this, only a few minutes ago… When Shenron's ossified scale model somehow… vanished from its glass globe.'
A frisson of dread seized Piccolo where he stood. A part of him that already somehow knew what was coming did not want to hear it.
'Which could only mean either of two things: The mystical dragon's soul has been extinguished… Or, as I'm more inclined to believe—
'—has been set free.'
Piccolo's blood ran cold.
'It would seem that Shenron did not die as a result of Kami-sama's rejoining with you like we expected. It appears to have, as a last act of self-preservation, somehow managed to uproot itself from its original creator's soul right before Kami-sama could be assimilated into you. As a consequence, it remains very much alive, slumbering in its new host body, and… as of today, has finally awakened.
'I'm aware that this goes against Shenron's code as a subservient dragon. A sacrilege not entirely impossible yet… It's unheard of, in the last couple of millennia, at least. There is no other viable explanation I can think of.'
Right on cue, as if to reassert the fact, an unknown power sparked to life those very moments and swelled inside of Piccolo.
'That is correct, Piccolo-sama,' Dende said, vacant pools of brown drifting up to dilated blues. 'Shenron's soul lives. Inside you. Gestating rapidly, as we speak.'
Piccolo flinched inwardly as it happened again, stronger this time. The foreign energy spike….
He knew Dende was not wrong. Even before that postulation was put forward, the energy surges which started when he re-merged with Kami have only gotten worse. He mistook it as a simple side-effect of his body adjusting to the extremely powerful soul… But never had it crossed his mind that it was actually the soul of the mystical dragon!
He inwardly shuddered at the violation. It was one thing to agree to host Assimilation—but an invasion? Now, he didn't only have the other souls plus the reinstated weighty soul of Kami to carry, but the cumbrous soul of a stowaway dragon as well?!
Why didn't he realize this sooner?
.
"Gestating…?" Piccolo said almost inaudibly, not bothering to hide his bewilderment.
Dende's projection faltered and phased out a few times before solidifying again, but his form seemed more diaphanous than before.
The apprentice god's vacant eyes regarded his senior with insipid sympathy for some moments; there was no warmth or pity in them, it was all apathy. And for a split second, Piccolo might have even imagined a deranged sort of glee.
.
'It is using your body as a vessel, feeding on your essence to remain alive…
.
'…Like a parasite.'
.
Piccolo shook his head and he almost swooned, only barely managing to keep his balance.
Scepticism was an ally that served Piccolo well in more occasions than he cared to count; but he found himself all too easily ingesting the idea that Dende was feeding him then. It perfectly aligned so much of the incongruence he was feeling of late… Why he felt more easily exhausted; why his ki fluctuated and receded unpredictably; and why he experienced frequent uncharacteristic lapses in concentration. Those being only the most apparent manifestations. It was like he had just woken from a dream; he could feel it with sharpened cognizance now. As if the knowledge of it had always been there but had only just filtered through his conscious mind for the first time.
The invader was slowly but surely grafting itself onto his essence, anchoring deeper and deeper and gaining more traction to his inner workings—to his very soul, with each passing day. He has always shared a partial connection to Shenron through Kami, but this was different. He could tell at once that this Shenron's energy was indeed awry—misaligned with the normal frequency of his counterpart's creation. This dragon's will had expanded beyond its set boundaries; grown substantial and expansive enough to vindicate its own existence and even recognize wishes of its own…
This dragon…
.
…No longer wished to be tamed.
.
A bead of sweat accumulated on Piccolo's temple; he swallowed hard, and it slid down to his neck.
'It was supposed to die, because technically, Kami-sama did die. But somehow, it managed to outlast the merging. Barely. My hunch is that's the reason you couldn't immediately detect its life force, because it was too faint, almost non-existent—and it was wise enough to preserve that camouflage even as it gradually regained its strength, keeping its presence fairly indiscernible all throughout its progressive takeover until it learnt to thrive inside you in perfect sync. But what I find even more surprising than its exactingly calculating patience, is how it had managed to elude detection from the two souls sharing your body. They should have felt the outsider instantly.'
"Three," Piccolo corrected irately, annoyed at his own unforgivable slip-up. And immediately, Piccolo felt even more annoyed then at his own pettiness and slipping control.
It was Shenron's influence, he was sure of it. A brand new fear had sprouted up inside of him – a fear that he had never felt before… For once in his life, he was afraid. Afraid that he was about to fight an internal battle that he had no chance of winning.
'I do not know what will happen from here on or what it plans to do. All I know is that as long as a greater portion of the original Shenron's soul remains active, it cannot be overridden nor killed– at least, not via conventional means. Which is why, I fear that all of yours, Nail-san's, and Kami-sama's efforts may be for naught. I was appointed to reconstruct the dragon balls from Shenron's more or less, wiped-clean slate. At this point, my powers aren't enough to create an entirely new and equally powerful dragon to rival it. Nor do I possess the abilities to subdue Shenron—certainly not in its current… 'state'. And, a mystical dragon that isn't dead cannot be revived….'
"You're being repetitive, overstating the obvious," Piccolo muttered under his breath. "Give me something I can work with!"
Dende looked away.
.
'At first, I thought the best option might be to forcefully extract the dragon's essence from your body and transfer it to another vessel. But there is something else… Something that further complicates things.'
"Get to the point, Dende."
'I fear that… it might already be too late.'
Dende shifts his weight, eyes dropping to the ground.
'I have reason to believe that Shenron has already managed to bind with you on an irreversible level. Attempting to forcefully extract it now would most likely kill you. Both.'
"How is it doing this? Mystical dragons aren't supposed to have free will, much less rebel! Everything that Shenron is or was is only by Kami's design, it should know nothing else! Furthermore, Assimilation is a process that shouldn't be possible without mutual consent!"
'That is correct. Mystical dragons are programmed to stay well within the limitations set by its master. Shenron was a part of Kami-sama, and in a way, when you agreed to re-assimilate him, you consented to absorbing Shenron as well, and… In this perhaps never-before-done case of Re-assimilation that you and Kami-sama have performed, ownership of Shenron should have transferred to you by default. Except that Shenron doesn't recognize you as its new master, it's just using your soul for fuel…
'Which brings us to our more pressing problem. From what I gleaned from the brief connection I managed with Shenron's spirit before it had completely re-formed outside of its prison, someone, or some… 'thing'… has introduced a new imperative to Shenron's original code…'
At that point, Piccolo could feel that he was one step ahead of everything that Dende was saying; as though the information was being fed to him from a source within him—not from any of his former residents—but from the one he did not and would never authorize to 'speak'.
'Shenron seems to have been contaminated… By something… Something frighteningly powerful and extremely malevolent. Which is why it is acting… mutinously.'
Dende's voice was colder and farther all of a sudden. But Piccolo didn't know if that was just his mind playing tricks on him; or Shenron inside his head, distorting his perception.
'I fear that, if that is indeed what we're dealing with here, then… There is little to nothing I can do to help.'
The Earth-born Namek could only scoff weakly at his predicament. How does he even manage to get himself into such preposterous situations? Now he suddenly understood all too well… The reason behind why Assimilation among Nameks was so strictly forbidden.
'Even if, by some miracle, I did succeed in keeping Shenron alive at the cost of your life, which is the more likely outcome of an extraction than the other way around– it will never acknowledge me as its new master. I have glimpsed its will…' Dende visibly shuddered as his arms crept around his own frame, eyes wide and transfixed yet unseeing. 'I have never felt an entity with an essence of such profound magnitude before… And it has no intention of succumbing to anyone. Much less to a master who is weaker that its creator. Now that it has gotten a taste of greater power in you, I strongly doubt that it will allow itself to be tamed by me and downgraded to the current level of powers I possess. It knows… even things that you'd rather not know…
.
'It knows that you are of divine ki, Piccolo-sama.'
.
Silence stretched on; Dende's eyes flitted towards the glass globe replica in the centre of the room where Shenron's magical scale model used to be enclosed. His projection phased out and phased in nearer to the pedestal that held the centrepiece and proceeded to walk closer to it.
"You want me to attempt to kill Shenron inside me…." Piccolo sighed heavily, fingers reaching up to massage his temples of their own accord; he felt centuries older all of a sudden. "Or take the less suicidal but more foolish recourse: To try and subjugate it. Am I correct?"
'I truly have no clue if the first option is viable.' Dende's hand hovered over the empty globe, trimmed nails briskly—almost longingly—grazed its shiny surface, his non-corporeal form merely phasing through it. 'Not without you perishing first…
'But even so, the rate of success is too slim; the risk might not be worth losing our only chance of regaining control over and reviving Shenron. In any case, taking no immediate action simply guarantees its absolute assimilation of you—including every other soul at your disposal; the likelihood of it turning into something else entirely? Ineluctable. Then, we—or the planet—may end up with an entirely different even more catastrophic problem on our hands…'
Piccolo did not really wish to continue down this path—he would much rather do over this day and wake up from his prosaic meditation by the waterfall this morning and choose not to indulge Dende. But that was all just wishful thinking now…
He knew he was fucked either way. At this stage, it was just a matter of delaying the inevitable for as long as possible.
"If I fail to extract Shenron and opt to kill myself instead… What will become of Shenron? If it manages to survive without annihilating itself but, let's say, that I manage to weaken it considerably before I perish, then, can you tame it?"
Dende straightened up where he stood and, not bothering to face Piccolo, he lapsed into a faraway, trancelike flow of speech:
'I've heard stories… of earliest Namekian civilizations… wiped out in a single instant… Mayhem and destruction of apocalyptic proportions… easily brought about by the likes of what Shenron is becoming… an unfettered, autonomous dragon… They had come a hair's breadth away from nearly completely obliterating our kind… An aftermath that took centuries for our ancestors to recover from. It was the reason for the dr—g— b—ls' creation: to contain them in lieu of letting them ro—am fr—ee. They w—re c—led dr—on g—ds in ancient times f— a reas—. When a dragon g— goes rogue… It never bodes well.…'
Piccolo cringed inwardly as he felt the chip in their mental connection. The barrier created to temporarily shield him from his prison is slowly fracturing and won't hold for much longer.
'Creating a whole new dragon would be the much simpler and safer—if not more roundabout—option rather than remaking, imprisoning, or even eradicating Shenron. While I know that with enough time, a dragon of my original creation may have sufficient powers to revive both body and soul, anything else outside of my healing abilities is not a guarantee. Wish fulfilment and its enormous scope is, as you already know, a craft I have yet to master. It is a secret exclusive to the Dragon Clan members anointed by a ritual of blood and centuries of experience, all combined with the powers of fellow dragon masters past… A dying art… Even Kami-sama's mind cannot enable me to draw forth, much less withstand the powers of the entire dead clan to magnify my own and enable me to imbue a new dragon with it. That would require a mind more experienced and infinitely more powerful than my own. The original Dragon Clan is now defunct with no remaining legitimate descendants; only corrupted fragments of its arcane secrets remain…
.
'You, Piccolo-sama, are the last one.…'
.
The younger Namek's eyes flitted back to Shenron's globular nest.
'I know this is not what you want to hear… But you are the last remaining Namek who possesses all the requirements needed to salvage Shenron and forge from it a new dragon just as—if not more powerful. You are the closest and purest embodiment left of the ancient Dragon Clan who can draw forth its secrets and wield its powers to full effect. I dare say, you may be the one chance we have of doing the impossible: Defeating Shenron. Untethered, its powers far exceed what we know. It is no longer an ordinary mystical dragon.
'You may be the last and only hope humanity has of overcoming the threat of what might very well be, the end of all life on this planet as we know it.' Dende turned to regard his mentor with an unflinching blank stare. 'Everything, all the lives on the other side of that chamber, including the fate of the world… It all rests on your shoulders now. You are the only thing that stands between them and this thing taking shape inside you. Perhaps that is the true reason Shenron is so intent on taking you over…
'…And ultimately destroying you.'
Piccolo said nothing for a moment that could have been an eternity.
'Whatever you decide, now might be your best and only chance. When it finishes gestating in you, if you don't harmonize with it or attempt to tame it, I don't think you will have much of a choice or even the free will to decide by then.'
"Curse the gods! That's not how Assimilation works!"
'I don't think this is Assimilation anymore, Piccolo-sama…
-x-
'…It's a takeover.'
-x-
"Fine. I've decided," Piccolo gruffly announced to no one in particular.
He was alone once again in the Forging Room, and yet, he knew he never really was…
"I shall forcibly extract you and kill you myself!"
In a few long strides, Piccolo was before the central pedestal.
"First, I will make sure you have nowhere to run," he whispered.
He reached forward as an incantation in Ancient Namekian passed his lips. Piccolo wrapped his talons around the mystical dragon's globular nest and grasping it firmly, raised it above his head, poised to smash.
"I have no intention of continuing Kami's or my sire's work in any way… A weak dragon is better than a parasitic one!"
.
|| At last.
.
|| I have waited a long time for this…
.
|| Finally, we meet face to face. ||
.
Piccolo turned his head, expecting to find the dragon filling the space behind him, but to his further disconcertion, all he found was a void. He whirled around fully, scanning the entire room, to find– still nothing; yet he sensed it all the same…
.
Shenron is here!
.
|| Straight to offence and going for the killing shot right away… You never were the type to beat around the bush… ||
.
Its voice was coming from both inside his head and all around him all at once.
White smoke began to billow from the floors in thin wispy tendrils. The walls began to bleed molten hot lava from invisible pores. His clothing and flesh seared and burned as blobs of red hot fire erupted, sputtering in all directions and dribbling down from the glass globe to his hand, engulfing his arm inch by excruciating inch.
"Arrrhh!"
Piccolo tried to fling the offending object in his hand but his body was frozen in place. His arms shook violently from the intense pain but remained suspended in mid-air, fingers locked like iron clamps to Shenron's false cage.
Screams are pulled from his bowels as the hellish fire boiled his flesh and seeped into his veins. It then travelled up his shoulders before coating the rest of his body. He could feel the living liquid travelling inside him now, invading his system and mixing with his blood; he twitched and writhed, but still– he was rendered powerless to free himself. He was but a a living, breathing statue slowly being melted to be carved and reshaped alive.
"C-curse… you!" Piccolo choked out as the smoking hot lava sizzled and bubbled up his throat before his already inundated senses are assaulted with even more excruciating agony, as the liquid fire fused with his spine, suffusing into every fibre of him. He gasped and wheezed for air but his lungs wouldn't comply. There was nothing at all he could do but feel every ounce of the sensation of burning—of horrific and harrowing pain.
Deep booming laughter reverberated against the walls.
.
|| You tried to end me. ||
.
"I- urrk, guurrrhh- I'm… uuuhh—n-not done, uwrrrghh—yet!"
Shenron's rumbling laughter echoed within him, louder this time; rolling like thunder within the confines of his chest.
.
|| So plucky… It pleases me that my new benefactor is one so strong and bold… ||
.
Still struggling to draw in gulpfuls of air, but strangled noises are all that make it past Piccolo's lips and throat as molten fire bled out from his splayed open and unseeing eyes…
.
|| There is no escaping your destiny… Piccolo Daimaoh—or should I say… Katattsu Jr?
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|| It matters not what name you go by…
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|| You are mine. ||
.
.
To be concluded…
End Notes:
I dunno why Piccolo acts like a petulant, contumacious child around Kami (first time I've written Kami-sama and their interaction!) but no matter how I tried, he wouldn't be written any other way. I don't know why but my muse has this funny headcanon that Piccolo just enjoys annoying his elders for no apparent reason whatsoever (not that he needs any, he's effing Piccolo Daimaoh Jr! Mehehe).
* memory broadcast – First mentioned in "Truer Than Love" (I think?). Retro headcanon. Nameks don't exactly dream, but have memory broadcasts. At least, advanced hybrid Super Nameks like Piccolo.
* Forging Room - Another Retroverse curiosity. Mine and my muse's headcanon.
* were pure-souled enough -In the canon, Kami had eventually allowed even impure souls like Vegeta (and Bloomer etc.) to enter Kami no Shinden when they needed to train in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber for the androids. It was originally off-limits to unworthy souls (to keep beings of evil intent like Garlic from the floating temple). He did not return it to its original setting which is why Majin Buu was able to encroach upon it. In Retroverse, Kami had returned the temple to those "original" settings to be impure-soul free.
* Post-Rogalian - Namekian civilizations that outlasted the Rogalian Cataclysm (an event yet to be explained, but it will be soon).
* New Nameks- Referring to the Nameks that survived the Rogalian Cataclysm (Great Elder Guru's children) and the ones that came to inhabit Planet New Namek. (The "Great Climate Shift" that wiped out the original Planet Namek is referred to as "The Rogalian Cataclysm" in Retroverse. It's a different version from the canon's though and will be delved into later in a separate, exclusive arc.)
(2016/04/25-2021/04/26)