Krillin remains frozen in his hiding place since running away. He senses the familiar life forces of his friends and foe alike dropping out of existence one by one. Another aura soon arrives on the scene. The unmistakable presence of Piccolo. One he could never forget from having fought him in the last tournament and being killed by his past incarnation's minion.
Then a fearsome ki from the only remaining enemy erupts into an even more terrifying power. He can feel it obscuring Piccolo's which rises a couple times in an attempt to meet the challenge. Now it rose again in what would likely be the last time.
You're doing the right thing, the voice in his head assures him.
Its calming demeanor massages away the knots of guilt and shame.
"But those are my friends down there," he says allowed.
It's okay. You can't do anything to stop these monsters. They chose to fight. You chose to hide. That's why you're safe.
It looks like the only ones left are distracted with each other. Now would be a good time to flee the castle. No one will even see you.
"Yes, I need to go now."
Krillin rises to his feet and sneaks to the window he came in through originally. He peeks out of the opening looking left and right. Seeing nothing, he lifts from the sill to float slowly from the window. Careful not to use much ki, he slowly glides forth to escape the horrible nightmare.
From his lofty position, he scans the citadel below for any signs of danger. He sees the bodies of Tien and Chiaotzu lying near each other with no signs of movement. He looks away from them.
Then he notices motion coming out of a giant doorway. Bulma struggles to carry Yamcha. His left arm is slung over her shoulders while she leans sideways to bear the weight. His feet drag behind him offering no help. Puar assists as much as she can.
Bulma attempts two more steps but collapses from the effort. Krillin instinctively wavers towards the pair despite being too far away to do anything. He steadies himself as he watches them fall to the ground. Bulma buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders rise and fall rapidly. Yamcha merely lies there.
And finally, Krillin passes by the area where the final battle takes place. He looks through the damaged roof to see Piccolo facing off against the last enemy. Kami watches helplessly. He spots the son of his best friend down there as well. He seems to be moving into position.
###
"I can't believe I need the help of Goku's son," says Piccolo, under his breath. He laughs. "Oh well. Guess I don't have a choice."
He places the pads of his index and middle fingers to his forehead.
"I'd love to keep up this tickle fight with you," says Garlic, "but I have an appointment to keep."
"I promise this one will leave a mark," Piccolo says.
Garlic senses a malevolence sharper than any previous attack. The aura reeks with killing intent as if this technique was made to murder someone. The feeling frightens him despite his overwhelming command of the battle thus far. A surge of adrenaline heightens his awareness of the razor's edge before him.
Orange electrical arcs dance erratically around the tips of Piccolo's fingers channeling between his antennas. They swirl around the epicenter, wriggling back and forth.
The behemoth mass of his enemy lurches forward. The movement is slow at first but gaining momentum with every step. After a few more, Garlic transforms into a wall of muscle about to flatten him across the floor.
Garlic feels the power building in his foe at the same rate as his acceleration. The exponential growth far exceeds his expectations. It will eclipse his own in a matter of seconds. He charges ahead despite the worry of not being quick enough. If he can just reach his opponent before he finishes, victory will finally be his.
The density of Piccolo's killer instinct deepens as he approaches. He wonders if he should have fallen back and attempted to dodge. Finesse never really suited him, and changing tactics now was impossible. He pushes the idea away while pressing on fully committing himself to brute forcing the issue.
He marches on into the face of his adversary. His arms stretch out to his sides. The impressive wingspan should allow him to prevent evasion to either side. And he is moving too fast now for backing up. That just leaves retreat to the air which he is more than ready for.
Piccolo stares down the barreling adversary. Knowing his technique still lacks the necessary caliber, he jumps upwards and backwards for just a little more time. Every second brings him closer to surmounting the giant's incredible stamina. However, since most of his ki is funneling into the attack, he can barely enhance the speed or direction of his maneuver. Garlic's mouth opens in a wide smile at the tactic.
The Makyan prepares to ascend with a little bend of the knees. Piccolo inhales deeply. The veins of his head and charging arm protrude from the skin. They throb with blood and ki. There is nowhere left to run. Either his attack can pierce through the enemy now or not.
"Masenko! Ha!"
Garlic hesitates for a moment as a yellow twinkle appears directly in front of him. He drops his glance from the overhead target to identify its origin. To his surprise, the sparkle moves straight at him.
Behind it is the child he kidnapped from Piccolo who must have positioned himself to the rear of the green fighter. Garlic's hands are too slow to swat the little ki blast away. It hits his head like a water balloon. The energy harmlessly washes over him, but it makes him flinch a bit from the force and brightness.
He shakes his head just twice, once left and once right. When his vision clears, he notices the weight of Piccolo's presence has multiplied drastically in the last three seconds.
"Makankosappo!"
The warrior straightens his arm to align it with Garlic. Before the Makyan can even register the attack's visual tell, a corkscrewing beam bridges the distance between them. It punches his gut and begins drilling into him.
The spiraling ki formation rips flesh and organs asunder. It tears through his abdomen and shoots out of his back. The blast continues into the floor, tunneling without resistance.
When Piccolo finally lets up on the attack, he can see light on the other side of his enemy through a steaming hole larger than the size of his own fist.
Garlic gawks at the green man for a second. Then his teeth grit as he looks down at himself. His eyes widen at a dim ray casting through his body like it would through clouds. Nausea spreads over him from the hideous injury. The pupils of his eyes roll upward allowing the whites to take over. His body follows the motion falling backward. The boom of a tree hitting the forest floor sounds when his body finally smacks the ground.
Piccolo, Kami, and Gohan stare for a second.
"Woohoo," says Gohan, with a hop. "We did it."
Piccolo turns at the waist to look at his pupil who grins with pride.
"Damn it Gohan. How many times do I have to tell you? There is no 'ha' at the end of the Masenko."
Gohan sheepishly stops his celebration. Piccolo turns away cracking a hidden smile.
###
Despite the intense desire to flee, Krillin cannot help but be mesmerized by Piccolo's twisting beam. Its design and flow connects with something inside him he cannot explain. A yearning to express himself on an artistic level through a specialized technique of his own blossoms within him. The feeling is beyond his understanding. He just knows it feels right.
With the enemy lying motionless on the ground, his reason for running disappears. Now he refuses to stay from the guilt of his cowardice. He cannot face them. He cannot experience the full consequences of his actions.
A pulse of ki strikes him. His eyes shoot to Garlic's body. The dark cyan fingers of the monster begin to twitch. They tighten into fists. The arms shuffle to prop up the main body on the elbows. From there, a methodical abdominal crunch gets the Makyan to a sitting position. Krillin recoils in horror as the giant regains his feet. The others stiffen into fighting poses.
Better start running again, says the voice in his head. He's unstoppable, and your friends don't want to see you anyway.
The fuchsia rings around his irises widen.
"But they need help. They have given everything. Even Gohan is fighting. If I run now, what will happen to them?"
The circles of light dim and shrink.
You can't save them. You'd just be throwing your own life away. Why bother?
The fuchsia glow intensifies again.
"But if I always run away, then my life will be worthless. If I never act then I'm not even living. These are the people I care about. They are worth sacrificing for. And I won't run away anymore!"
The rings grow hotter and wider. They nearly overtake the whites of his eyes. They reach their limits and shatter like glass as the evil aura's hold on him breaks. He rushes towards the battle at full speed, confidence beating in his heart.
The Makyo Star strangles the sun above as it reaches for the final eighth of the yellow orb.