A shimmering golden god.
To many of the onlookers, it could be said that Gohan resembled such. He stood tall in the destroyed MatterWave arena, his golden ki wafting off of him in droves. Gusts of wind were being expelled from near his feet, where the aura erupted into an upward flame. Debris was kicked softly into the air, and Gohan's clothes billowed as if caught in an updraft. Compared to his form, Piccolo looked quite plain; the lone mortal facing off against a warrior deity.
Furthermore, it clicked in the heads of several audience members who lived in Satan City: this golden haired man resembled their Golden Warrior. In fact, it could be said he was virtually identical. Mutterings shot up among the audience, but they were too far for Gohan to hear them. And even if he could, he would have ignored them. The Saiyan-half and Piccolo were beginning to walk towards each other.
The two stood in the centre of the arena, in dead silence. The audience and announcer were equally hushed. The only sound was the rushing of Gohan's ki. Gohan extended his right hand, and Piccolo mimicked the action. With a grin from both parties, they bumped fists; as quickly as their fists met, the two leapt backwards, gaining more distance than they'd had before the gesture.
Gohan moved first. He closed in with a sonic rush, destroying a portion of the arena with his speed. He thrust a fist outward, slamming it into a surprised Piccolo's face. He ducked under, and unleashed a powerful combination of blows against the Nameccian's stomach. Piccolo's eyes, always narrow, widened round in pain, and from his mouth, a forcible expulsion of air and saliva erupted. Cocking his fist back, he struck Piccolo's chin in an uppercut, and followed with a powerful downward strike that sent Piccolo crashing painfully into the arena, buried beneath rubble.
"The second round of the second match has begun, and Piccolo can't even put up a fight!" crowed the announcer into his microphone. "Gohan has transformed, and in the span of two seconds, crushed Piccolo beneath part of the fighting stage! Is this a Super Saiyan?!"
Clunking filled the ears of anyone close enough to hear it, as Piccolo pushed the rubble off of his body. "Give me a break; I'm far from out just yet! Do you think I'm an average Nameccian? I'm the reincarnation of Piccolo Daimaō!"
Away from the crowd, in her hoverbooth, Bulma's eyes had become alight when she saw Gohan transform into a Super Saiyan. The fingers of her non-bandaged hand began to move swiftly across a MatterWave keyboard that had materialised within the booth, and MatterWave screens were replaying match data from earlier in the battle to when Gohan transformed. Her scanners noticed that, while Gohan's combat strength spiked tremendously, the majority of his ki was focused in the centre of his back; even moreso the moment he'd transformed.
Interesting... she muttered to herself, both hands typing quickly. All of this is incredible data.
"You pack more than an a punch, Gohan," Piccolo replied, rubbing his face gingerly. "But I hope you don't think becoming a Super Saiyan is going to end this match. You're still my student, in the end. Now get ready; it's time for your lesson!"
Gohan grinned, his aura flashing in a golden blaze. He didn't need to respond to that. He and Piccolo knew that their fists would do the talking from this point onward. Twenty steps in a second, and he'd crossed the distance between him and his teacher. Gohan had practically jumped into the crater of the arena, and slammed his arm into Piccolo. The result was a crack like thunder, with the Nameccian barely managing to block by using both arms to brace himself.
Piccolo struck back, but Gohan used the flat of his palm to deflect the force of the blow, causing Piccolo to stagger. A white boot came flying out of Piccolo's periphery vision, slamming into his face with immense force; if it hadn't been for his durable Nameccian nature, it would have dislocated his neck. His composure was strained, and Piccolo couldn't keep himself grounded. He felt himself fly from the ring, crashing into the barrier. It crackled and snapped, but it held powerfully. Piccolo fell from a great height to the bottom of the arena.
Gohan walked over towards the edge of the arena, and saw Piccolo lying unconscious on the ground. Clearly, the announcer saw the same thing, as his voice range through the arena.
"I don't know about you, but I think the fight's already over! Mere moments into round 2, Piccolo is knocked from the arena, and appears to be unconscious!" He crowed into the microphone. "Let's begin the count! 1...2...!"
The arena was deathly quiet; onlookers from all sides, the Dragon Team and unrelated, watched with baited breath as the countdown edged towards the dreaded finale. Gohan stared down at Piccolo with the icy glare of a Super Saiyan; was this the most his teacher could muster?
"6...7..."
With the count trailing towards the end, Piccolo began to budge. Gohan noticed, but heard the counting reaching close to ten. If Piccolo didn't return to the arena now, their match was finished.
"...9..."
Piccolo's eyes flashed, his teeth grit, and he extended his arm towards the destroyed arena. His hands gripped into the MatterWave substance, and he pulled himself forward as if using a grappling hook. The Nameccian pushed upwards, launching into flight, and landed back onto the arena.
"Piccolo has made it back into the arena!" cried the announcer. "The battle continues!"
"I was worried for a second there, Piccolo," said Gohan, smiling. "I thought you'd given up already."
"Don't take me for a pushover, kid," replied Piccolo. "I've got more than enough fight left in me!" The battle resumed, and with the tables turned completely on him by Gohan, Piccolo had to wonder; just when had the boy overtaken him? The student he'd taken in out of necessity initially, who'd become as close to him as a child would to a parent. It was pride mixed with sadness that he felt for Gohan now, and remembered, more fondly than he cared to admit, when the boy had been but a fledgling.
Wastelands, Age 761
It had been barely a day since Piccolo had taken Gohan for training. Piccolo had condemned the boy to survive in the wilderness on his own. He'd given him a simple directive. Survive here for six months, simply prove yourself to be capable, and the real training would begin. But Gohan hadn't proven himself to be such at all; Piccolo was surprised at just how different from his father the boy truly was.
If anyone tried to contest this statement, Piccolo could simply gesture to the pathetic display beneath him. He was trying to maintain his distance, as the sound was hurting his ears, but a dinosaur was currently roaring as it chased down Gohan, the latter of whom had been screaming bloody murder.
"It hasn't even been five minutes," growled Piccolo. The reincarnation of the Demon King sighed. If the boy couldn't save himself, he would have to intervene; he needed to draw out that brat's power, if they wanted to have a chance of surviving the encounter with the Saiyans. It made him sick to his stomach to need to rely not only on a child, but the child of a human like Son Gokū.
Piccolo was taken by surprise, however, when he felt a massive surge in ki. His narrow eyes focused on Gohan, who had tripped and fallen while running. Certainly, this would be when the young one died. But then Gohan vanished entirely as the dinosaur's open maw descended to devour the boy. Piccolo looked around frantically; had he lost their trump card?
His senses directed him to a plateau, where a confused Gohan was now safely away from the dinosaur. A grin crossed his face against his will. You might be worth something after all, brat.
You used to be so weak, thought Piccolo, snapping back to present day. It took a considerable amount of strength to deflect the next incoming blow from Gohan, whose Super Saiyan strength was proving to be more formidable than Piccolo had bargained for. But you've matured, and become strong...yet you never lost your heart!
Wastelands, Age 761
Several months had passed, and Gohan had more than proven himself in the wilderness. True to his word, and perhaps even impressed by the boy's resolve, Piccolo remained true to his word and took up the half-Saiyan's training. This was merely one of the many nights in which Piccolo had given Gohan rest. The two were currently on a plateau, next to the warmth of a blazing campfire.
Piccolo sat in staunch meditation, legs crossed, arms folded, focusing hard on moulding his ki. Gohan, on the other hand, sat closer to the fire — Piccolo didn't feel cold — and was eating the roasting flesh of some manner of animal. As Gohan was enjoying his kill, he noticed that Piccolo wasn't eating anything. "So, Piccolo, I guess you don't eat much huh? Why's that?" he asked innocently.
Piccolo grunted, "I'm not human, let alone the sort of abomination like you who's crossbred."
"But, you seem kinda weird too," said Gohan, taking a bite of out of his dinner and cock head. "Does that make you lonely?"
The question surprised Piccolo, stabbing him quite like a blade. He was taken aback, and could only repeat Gohan's last word in a question. "Lonely?"
"Yeah. You just kinda sit there, scowling. You must not have many friends."
At this, Piccolo's expression practically soured. "I don't need friends," he replied harshly. "I'm going to rule the world one day, and everyone will bow before me as subjects before my empire. Friends are irrelevant." This was stated matter-of-factly, Piccolo making it quite plain it he wanted to leave no room for further discussion.
"Aren't we friends?" asked Gohan simply.
"..." Piccolo had no retort, looking at Gohan.
The half-Saiyan smiled brightly. "I like to think so!"
"Just finish to eating, you brat!"
"Aw, okay!" Gohan returned properly to his meal, while Piccolo let out a sigh. The former Demon King cast Gohan a thoughtful look, before returning to his meditation.
Back then, every feeling needed to be conveyed, thought Gohan, deftly avoiding a strike from Piccolo's extended arm. He pulled his teacher in through the stretched appendage, and with a powerful right kick, slammed Piccolo into the MatterWave arena, causing it to begin to crack. But we have no need for words now; you've been my teacher since I was young, and I know what you're thinking; the same as you know what I'm thinking.
Wastelands, Age 761
"Alright. You've been at this long enough for me to teach you my own special kikōha, brat," said Piccolo. "To tell you the truth, I'm surprised that you've managed to come this far, but I'm impressed."
"I-Impressed?" gasped an earnest Gohan. "You mean it?"
"Don't let it go to your head!" snapped Piccolo. "It just means you aren't a complete disappointment. Now pay attention!"
"Y-Yes, sir!" replied Gohan, though the lad was undeterred. Compliments from Piccolo came rarely, if ever at all, and he couldn't help but be excited at any sort of positive reinforcement coming from this man.
"I know for a fact you can build up ki," Piccolo carried on, "but this will be a whole different scale than you're used to. It's my own signature technique, the Masenkō. It's an ideal technique for a demon; as my student, you will learn it. The ki build-up is similar enough to your father's Kamehameha, so you shouldn't have trouble with it." He turned away from Gohan, and towards one of the plateaus that jutted out of the wasteland.
"Pay attention boy, I'll only show you once!" Piccolo raised both hands above his head, and a golden ki flared around both of his palms. "Masenkō!" He brought both arms down, keeping them straight; the ki erupted into a sphere, which stretched out as a beam of concentrated energy. He was illuminated by the glow of his own ki, and the blast tore into the ground, ripping it apart until it collided with its target in a large explosion.
"W-Whoa!" Gohan gasped; from a distance was one thing, but he'd never seen such an intensive blast up close.
"At your level, you should be capable of at least this much," said Piccolo. "Now go on; you won't sleep until you can produce a kikōha of comparable size."
Of comparable size...Gohan thought, wondering if such a feat would even be possible. He was able to use ki — and he would often use it to start fires, which was how he managed to cook food out here — but the blast Piccolo had produced was honestly incredible. He didn't know if he coulddo it, but he knew Piccolo would take nothing less than success. He mimicked Piccolo's movements, and began to focus his ki to the best of his ability. There was a faint glow, and he brought his hands down. "Masenkō!"
The blast that was released from Gohan's hand was much less of an eruption and more of a small burst. It traveled slower than his teacher's, and petered out well before it made any significant distance. Gohan's face fell at the sight; it wasn't anywhere near what he'd hoped.
Piccolo, fittingly, was far from satisfied. "Boy, you call that an attack? Try such a pathetic little attempt against an enemy and you will die! And believe me, I won't save you if that's all you'll bring to the table. You want to be of use as a warrior? Try again!"
"R-Right!" Gohan nodded. He repeated the same motions; the building of ki, Piccolo's hand movements, and the releasing of the attack. But in the end, the results amounted to more of the same. Gohan could not reach anything close to the level Piccolo had displayed, not even after an hour of attempting.
Eventually, Piccolo left, floating off to carry on with his own training; his only orders to Gohan were to continue practising the Masenkō without rest. Gohan complied. The sun had long since set, and the boy was repeating the same motions; working to the best of his ability to produce an impressive Masenkō. And Piccolo was watching. Saying that he was going to train alone was a lie; he wanted to watch the boy's progress without Gohan being impeded by his presence.
"Masenkō!" cried Gohan, barely producing anything sizable, even twelve hours into practise. But Piccolo was still impressed, if nothing else, by Gohan's sheer tenacity. His hands were beginning to become burned by the ki he was focusing, attempting to magnify its intensity repeatedly for several hours, but Gohan was no longer the sort of crybaby who let this get to him. Instead, Piccolo watched as Gohan toughed through the pain, ignoring the wounds his own body was suffering from for the sake of his own improvement.
You'll need that sort of persistence, boy,Piccolo's eyed watched Gohan intently. But more than that, you're going to need the physical strength that comes with that sort of intense will. Show me!
Gohan's breath was running ragged. Sweat was seeping through his pores — adding to the burning on his palms — and he felt exhausted. He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. No, for twelve hours straight, he'd practised the Masenkō. But was this piddly attack all he could do? Twelve hours...and nothing to show! Gohan felt frustrated. Frustrated and angry with himself. Was he just wasting time? Had this time away from his mother with Piccolo amounted to nothing already? The self-loathing, too intense for someone as young as he, built up, and became power; Gohan's face worked, fire burning behind his eyes.
He raised his hands, the crucible of his progress glinting with the golden glow of ki. "Masenkō!" Forcing his arms downward, the blast exploded, a gigantic beam of ki forced itself outward, tearing into the plains as it traveled across the land. In the sky, Piccolo finally grinned. He was beginning to feel something he'd never expected; pride, in someone else.
Piccolo pressed a palm against the tile, releasing an explosion that propelled him backwards away from Gohan. The Nameccian skidded along the torn-up arena, his wounded body proving to be a slight inconvenience. Piccolo's eyes widened, however, when he saw that Gohan would not give him a moment to rest; he was already prepping a follow-up attack.
"Masenkō!" Ki was bundled into Gohan's raised palms, shining with an immense glow. He brought his arms, kept straight, and the ki was released as a gigantic blast. It wasn't like the Masenkō Gohan produced as a young child; no, the blast rushing towards Piccolo was of a remarkable size and intensity. It barelled towards him until all the Nameccian could see was the blazing yellow-white hue.
He raised his arms up to defend, and the blast enveloped him with the ease of a snake swallowing prey. It kept pushing, and collided with the barrier than Bulma had designed to keep the spectators safe. It was the sign of her scientific ingenuity that the barrier did not give way under the pressure, but instead dispersed the force as the blast petered out.
The crowd watched with baited breath as the smoke cleared. Where Gohan's blast had swept over, almost all of the arena before Gohan had been wiped out, converted into fragments that faded away quickly. Piccolo's clothes were ragged, his body burned, and to his own surprise, shaking. Whether it was fear, or an attempt to suppress the pain, he honestly didn't know.
"Would you look at that?!" blurted the announcer. "A Super Saiyan is really something, folks! I thought Piccolo might have been equal to Gohan, but it looks like he's on the verge of losing! That gigantic blast a moment ago nearly forced him off the arena!"
Gohan grinned, and beckoned Piccolo to come at him. The Nameccian's eyes widened, but then he flashed a devilish grin of his own; it wasn't, however, for the same reasons as Gohan. Surprising the Saiyan-half, the air began to distort only slightly around Piccolo — no, perhaps even further — and shimmering light took the form of Piccolo himself. Once, twice, no, fifty times.
Clones... Gohan thought to himself, eyeing the surrounding area. He was now surrounded by Piccolos on all sides, and each and every one of them looked genuine. He could spot, however, one flaw in the technique that Piccolo must have ignored. These clones only looked genuine, but they were all fakes, the lot of them; he couldn't see a single shadow to these clones, meaning they were illusory constructs from ki and nothing more.
Though that may work to his advantage, thought Gohan. There's so many of them, I can't actually seehim anymore. And since they're made directly from his ki, it's interfering with my ability to sense him. Piccolo...you never do anything halfway, do you?
"W-What's this?!" croaked the announcer into the microphone. "Piccolo seems to have created multiple clones of himself! I've seen a similar ability before, but this is on a whole different scale!"
Without warning, and without words, the clones rushed towards Gohan. The Saiyan-half back-stepped on instinct, deftly avoiding incoming strikes from the multitude at the fore. He was quick to remind himself, however, that if these clones were illusory constructs, they had no physical form; meaning he merely needed to see through the distractions and find the shadow. Then he could find Piccolo.
Letting his guard down was where he found an unpleasant surprise. The Piccolos rushed him again, and in his conscious effort to simply avoiding dodging, was shocked when they collided with him with immense force. It can't be...! Gohan gasped. They aren't just illusions...they hit like a kikōha! He'd expected something non-physical, but this lost managed to make contact in the same way as a kikōha; it was genius technique, Gohan had to admit that.
But if these are all to be used for an attack...then this must have cost Piccolo a hefty amount of ki, thought Gohan, weaving through the onslaught of Piccolos. He's either that desperate, and spending this much kijust to keep me busy...or he genuinely needs the distraction. Gohan's face set. Whether Piccolo needed the distraction or not was a non-issue; he did feel moderately annoyed that Piccolo felt these could keep him busy for long.
"Bakuretsu Maha!" Gohan built up a large amount of ki, and then expelled it from his body in a massive shockwave. The blast spread outward, enveloping the stage as it traveled. It was a quick execution, and the Piccolo clones were snuffed out easily by Gohan's mimicry of one of his teacher's techniques. The clones now gone, finding Piccolo and winning would be much eas—
Any train of thought Gohan had in this regard was quickly blown out the window when he found himself bound up by Piccolo's extended arm. His flaring Super Saiyan aura was suppressed, and Gohan glared down a smug Piccolo with an icy glare.
"We may have no need for words, but it is never too late for a lesson, Gohan," said Piccolo warningly. "This battle will be far from the last you will ever have; and you'll face foes far more impressive than myself or even Majin Bū." His expression became unsmiling. "I've noticed that when you fight moreso as a Super Saiyan 2 — especially as a Super Saiyan 2 — your emotions get the better of you. You become arrogant and make errors in judgement...like right now."
Gohan blinked in surprise, but could say nothing. Piccolo wasn't wrong. At the height of his power, Gohan always lapsed back into one of the greatest faults of his Saiyan blood — arrogance. It was fine against opponents like Dābra, who had barely been worth his time. Bū, while weaker than he had been, was a different can of worms, and his arrogance had cost them. It allowed Bū to escape into the outside world, and resulted in the death of Kuririn. It had almost cost him their planet.
Seventeen years ago, his arrogance had cost him his father. Son Gokū, a great man despite his apparent flaws, was dead because of Gohan's carelessness. He knew that, and had come to terms with it over the years. But accepting a loss didn't change the facts when one was responsible. And Piccolo was right; his arrogance, if he allowed it to continue, would prove dangerous. His greatest flaw had cost him his father and a friend, and could cost him much more if he continued to let it run his battles.
The faces of Erasa and Pen swam to the forefront of his mind. His beloved wife and precious daughter. Like hell I'll let that happen because of my own shortcomings! Gohan's eyes flared to life, his aura igniting in a searing blaze. Plasma crackled within this conflagration, boring into what remained of the arena, as little as it was. The half-Saiyan's ki was becoming a storm, whirling around within the confines of the barrier and the audience was impressed.
Erasa, however, was more worried than anything. It had been years since she'd seen Gohan's ki spike like this — even their own sparring matches didn't push limits like these — and she was worried for his mental state and for Piccolo's well-being.
Gohan flexed his muscles, using both arms to force Piccolo's arm from its coiled position around him; the arm began to rip and tear, blood spilling everywhere as it was ripped off by Gohan's immense Super Saiyan 2 strength. The audience gasped, but Piccolo was no stranger to pain, and merely reeled back his stump, seething slightly. Despite the pain, however, he was proud.
Now you see!
"W-Whoah...!" Gohan gasped, utilising his small body to his advantage, dodging Piccolo's blows by way of a cartwheel. The shaggy-haired Saiyan child readied himself with a stance as he got to his feet. Piccolo wasn't letting up, and rushed Gohan with wild abandon. He struck downward with a powerful palm strike, but Gohan used all of his strength to block the blow with both arms. To his surprise, Piccolo staggered back, and Gohan took this as a chance; he leapt into the air, landing a powerful kick on Piccolo's chest.
The Great Demon King was forced back yet still further, and Gohan pummeled his torso with a repeated blow of physical punches. It was a jack-hammering-onslaught, and Piccolo felt his body truly shake for the first time since he'd begun training the boy. "Renzoku Senkōdan!" he cried, switching from physical to
kias he leapt back and began to unleash a flurry of kikōha towards Piccolo. His ki control had improved considerably, being able to perform this technique so young. The blasts collided in a myriad of explosions, and Gohan relented after only a moment.
From the smoke, Piccolo's arm broke through, grabbing Gohan by the neck and rushing him into the air. Gohan felt a surge of panic as the arm snaked back down, rushing him towards solid earth. His palm ignited, and at the last moment, there was an explosion. Piccolo's arm retracted, and Gohan forced the smoke around him to clear; he was hurt, but far less than he could have been.
"Clever little runt...buffering the fall like that," grunted Piccolo. "But you'll need more than quick-wittiness if you don't want to die!" He lurched forward, and a kikōha was expelled from his mouth, rushing towards Gohan with the intent of death. The half-Saiyan raised his hands above his head, and thrust them forward with his counter-move. "Masenkō!"
His own kikōha rushed forward to meet his teacher's, and the two blasts collided. They mixed and melded together, creating a vibrant display of sparks as the two energies attempted to overcome the other. Gohan's blast was already at enough of a disadvantage, essentially being rushed out to meet Piccolo's halfway, and it showed; Piccolo's attack was making vastly more headway, but the fact that Gohan could hold him back for even this long could be considered remarkable in and of itself.
Gohan began to lose traction, and his blast was being pushed back towards him. He wouldn't be able to hold out much longer, but he had to avoid the brunt of Piccolo's attack. With his blast barely visible anymore, Gohan used the last of his remaining
kito protect his hands, and with all his strength, diverted the force of Piccolo's blast away from him. The boy fell to his knees, the effort exhausting him.
"Not bad," said Piccolo, walking over to Gohan. "Far from perfect, but worth a forty out of a hundred. In a one-on-one fight, that sort of stunt would get you killed; but you'll be fighting alongside me, so you can rely on maneuvers like that if you've got someone to fall back on. Though I can't say I won't leave you for dead if you get too reckless."
"T-That's just a joke, isn't it?" asked Gohan nervously. "You wouldn't actually do that, would you Mr. Piccolo?"
"Who knows?" replied Piccolo noncommittally. "Regardless, you may think you're something impressive now, but your level is nothing close to where you should be. Just because you're becoming stronger doesn't mean you should settle, boy. Keep training, and surpass me!"
"Surpass...you?" repeated Gohan. "That's impossible, Mr. Piccolo! I can barely keep up!"
"No back-talk, brat!" snapped the Great Demon King. "Now get some rest! We'll pick this up again in an hour!"
"R-Right!" stammered Gohan, rushing off to go wash his face.
"Keep training, and surpass me!"
They were words Piccolo had spoken to Gohan so many years ago; the first inkling, perhaps, that he should have had about his growing affection for the boy. He'd never wanted a student before. He'd never wanted a friend, and certainly not the son of his greatest enemy. And yet he had developed from that weak little brat who could barely hold his own into a warrior with such a suffocating ki.
Gohan took a stance, and Piccolo raised his guard to meet the Saiyan-half. But by then, it was over faster than blinking. Unable to register Gohan's movements, Piccolo suddenly felt an incredible pain explode directly in the centre of his being. Gohan had crossed the distance and slammed his fist into the Nameccian's stomach. Piccolo let out a gasp, the air rushing from his body, and he fell to his knees.
One...final blow...? thought the Nameccian, his body going numb. He slipped into unconsciousness as his body finally gave into exhaustion. The announcer floated over, and once he saw that Piccolo was no longer moving, began to count.
"1...2...3...4...5..."
Gohan kept an eye on Piccolo, his guard up; relaxing now would simply prove he hadn't learned his lesson.
"8...9...10!" The announcer crowed. "Piccolo has stayed down for the ten count! THE WINNER OF THE SECOND ROUND MATCH IS SON GOHAN!"
After the announcer spoke these words, Gohan let out a deep breath, and reversed his transformation. His hair returned to its normal ebony sheen, and his ki blaze died out. The Saiyan-half knelt down, and helped Piccolo up, lifting the man's arm over his shoulders. When medics rushed forward to offer their assistance, Gohan waved them off, and made his way towards the wings.
As they walked, Piccolo gradually came to, and the Nameccian cast a weary eye at his former student. "...Would you look at that?" He grinned. "It seems I wasn't just wasting words on you."
Gohan returned the smile, as tired mentally as Piccolo was physically. "Sorry, Piccolo. And...thank you."
"Think nothing of it..." the Nameccian replied. "I'm looking forward...now more than ever...to seeing how you carry yourself in the future. You've made me proud, Gohan."
The student carried his teacher back towards the waiting wings in silence after this, but the two were so absorbed in the aftermath of their battle that they didn't notice the announcer had repaired the MatterWave arena after their departure and was already in the middle of announcing Round 3:
Erasa vs. Videl.
A/N: Whew. I'm not gonna lie, folks. I had a hard time writing this chapter. I don't know what it was, but I have not felt like writing in the past month or so, so getting this chapter out was actually more difficult than it normally would have been. But, in the end, I managed to get the chapter out and I hope it achieves what I wanted it to do; it's kind of hard for emotion to come out in a work when I had so little emotion to put in to start with. But we'll see. no?
As always, thankss to Demod20 for proofing and making sure it was able to be posted! I will see you all soon in the next chapter of the Erased Chronicles, and I promise it will be soon!