Dragon Ball - Heart of the Adventurers

By LastationLover5000 and Demod20, edited by Firegod00

Chapter 16 - Arrival

Aspara couldn't believe it.

In all of her years serving as a Saiyan Elite warrior, she had never witnessed such a powerful act of defiance. Even with all of the punishment his body through, his stamina sapped and the certainly despairing act of his comrade dying did nothing to stop him. No, it emboldened him and he carried out an attack that completely leveled the environment and knocked herself, her two colleagues and the bald dwarf off their feet. Her nerves tingled and her breath was briefly pushed out of her, like a tire deflating from blunt force. It did virtually no damage despite the proximity, but it startled her and dazed her senses.

Pushing herself off the cooked soil she was granted the sight of a single silhouette still standing on in the midst of a sweeping cloud of blowing smoke. Covered in blood, legs spread and hands still in the same place since he shouted, the three-eyed man bore a look she didn't imagine him wearing; contentment, and resignation. Before she thought to take up the challenge of fighting him, his body swayed until he fell onto his back with a thud.

Tenshinhan's life had ended.

"I can't believe an Earthling could produce such enormous power," She thought with blinking eyes, looking around the environment as the dust continued to settle. Kuririn in the distance began to push himself up from his knees, stricken with grief and bewilderment. The other two Saiyans, Gula and Kuka, also rose to their feet with expressions matching their own personalities; one of aghast and slight annoyance. The traitor, she noticed with a turn of the head, was crouched behind a collection of boulder debris a good quarter mile away with the Nameccian and half-breed. "The cowards didn't want to be stunned. I'll make sure to deal with them. I wonder how bad the Prince suffered from that attack?"

A faint tapping sound could be heard from beyond the smokescreen. Blinking her eyes, she squinted at a shimmering silhouette that was walking through the smoke, the sound of boots squashing hissing soil with every stomp. With a wave of a gloved hand, the smoke was wiped away in a billowing shockwave, colliding into the smashed field of rubble that was once a set of plateaus part of the canyon they battled in front of. Bracing past the bristling phenomena with a raised arm, Aspara's eyes widened palpably at the sight.

There stood the Prince, alive and well, with nary a scratch on him. The only sign that he had been struck was a small bruise on his lower left jawline and a sliver of blood that ebbed from the corner of his left lip. He had a scowl on his face, but at the same time, a very cruel smile spread below. He didn't need his partially cracked Scouter to tell him that the Earthling died in the sacrificial assault. It was obvious such a feat a lower life form couldn't survive it; it was only surprising that he managed it after he put so many holes in him.

"Aspara!" He crowed out, shaking her out of her daze as he crossed his arms, resuming his nonchalant stance as he stood back where he once had been planted before the Triclops' daring attack. "It seems I've lost sight of our General Nappa. It'll be more of a pain to find the contraption he was sealed in than its worth. You're to take over his responsibilities and eliminate the Nameccian and the other Earthlings. Do I make myself clear?"

The Saiyaness couldn't have been more pleased. Regardless of the turn of events, they were in a far better position than their enemies were. With Nappa sealed, they can always recollect him at their leisure so their total casualties was only two instead of the three the Earthlings had. If anything she was happier that the burly brute was now removed from the picture so he wouldn't get in her way.

"Didn't need to ask, Prince," Aspara began to say in a chuckle, her body bubbling forth a bursting crimson light. Rising up with her arms, she swung them down to her sides as it exploded with a shrieking howl, quaking the earth and sending bristling waves of pressure all around her. A scarlet gleam shining in her usually onyx eyes, she looked to the boulder where she saw Piccolo, Pan and Raditz slowly emerge, wary of her new form and raised power level. Standing upright, she stretched out a fist towards Raditz and grinned with shrunken pupils of near mania. "Traitor! I'm going to enjoy beating you to a bloody pulp as I hear you beg for mercy!"

"This isn't good," Piccolo whispered, his body shaking in the presence of this new opponent's ki. It was nothing like what it was when Raditz was locking horns with her. Now it felt as strong as the giant Saiyan who Tenshinhan sealed, if not stronger. "C'mon, Raditz! Got any advice on how we can take her down?!"

"If its all three of us? Maybe, we have a chance," Raditz intoned, biting his lower lip with balled fists shaking. "She was toying with me, just now. I'd much rather just take her on myself, but I know better than anyone that's asking for death. Just look at your friends and ask them how that turned out!"

"She's mine!"

A tiny voice growled, surprising both of the veteran warriors enough to break their train of thought. Looking down, the pair of eyes saw a trembling figure whose eyes was, during their attention to Aspara, focused on the far-off bodies of Chaozu and Tenshinhan. When Vegeta didn't even say a word or look at the man who tried to beat him, Aspara suddenly became the target of her swelling rage. Teeth bared, eyes dilated and her violet hair rose up straight, her body shimmered with flashing bluish white light.

"Pan, you have to calm down!" Piccolo desperately shouted, Raditz looking indecisively between her and Aspara. The latter Saiyaness looked a bit confused at the small halfling, wondering why she looked particularly furious apart from the rest. While the Daimao gestured and raised his voice, the futile attempts to douse her anger was met with a sudden eruption on hearing Aspara's newly chosen words.

"What, don't tell me you actually cared about those two failures, right?"

Her scream had melded into an ungodly roar. It blew back both Raditz and Piccolo, forcing them to brace meters away from the blast wave as she was engulfed in the heat of her own aura. Aspara's Scouter bleeped loudly, alarming her considerably at the numbers racing faster than could be conceived. Even Vegeta's head turned to stare widely at the spectacle, her body a pyre that sent ki soaring into the sky like a beacon.

"Again with this kid! Just where does she get this kind of power?!" Aspara thought with wide blinks, sweat perspiring coldly on her skin in a clammy and uncomfortable sensation.

In between one of those blinks, Pan's form disappeared from sight. Looking around, she found herself suddenly lacking the luminous warmth of the planet's Sun. Raising her head up, she saw the girl had leaped high over her head and dropped down like a silver comet downward. Charging a kikoha around her hand -the same one she used to slice a third of West City in a single move- she swung it cleanly towards the dropping, petite form racing towards her. It hit its mark with a shredding gale, but revealed nothing more than fading static where a body should've been.

Just as her Scouter began to register movement, she felt a sudden explosion of pain wrack her abdomen, her body lifted off its feet and sent spiraling backwards.

"What was that?! A punch?! A kick?! An energy blast?!" Her mind reeled at the possibilities of the form of her injury, her exposed waist being unprotected and vulnerable to extreme punishment and now shown a purple welt around her navel. Stopping herself short a dozen meters from the point of attack, she saw Pan's body already fading from the point of its extended arm for the attack.

The Scouter bleeped again, and this time she could feel the wind kick up her long, straight hair; subsequently allowing her to twist around and use her bare right arm to block a swinging kick. The connection sparked off electricity and the wind blew outward in an explosion of air pressure as both's ki flared backwards from the force of the pair's strength colliding. Her eyes looked on, a mixture of shock and frustration meeting a completely livid pair of coal eyes.

"Knock it off, punk!" Aspara snarled, coating her arm in ki and swing into Pan's body, sending her a few meters back skidding onto her feet. "Like I'm going to let some child get the best of me! You may be strong now, but let's see how long you can keep up now that I'm royally pissed off!"

"Good," A voice followed with an immediate Scouter beep, made her suddenly feel the shadow of her cousin standing behind her. Even turning to swing an elbow at him wasn't fast enough to stop a large boot to her back, making her stumble forward from the surprisingly strong hit. "Stay pissed! Especially you, Pan! Keep it up!"

"Why you-NGH!" She tried to rebuttal, suddenly at the brunt of Pan's bullet paced frame ramming her head into her upper torso. Despite it cushioning the impact, a good part of the breastplate cracked, the durable and pliant material giving way to the sheer blunt trauma dealt to it. Skidding back on her heels, she snarled and waved her hand, unleashing a swathe of destruction that up-heaved the land and burned the air. To her dismay, it was too slow and narrowly missed the child; as well as the absent Nameccian.

"MASENKO-HA!" A loud bellow was heard from her right, her eyes turning to see a golden beam of light streak at an angle from where the green man stood. She kicked off the ground, raising up into the sky to avoid the blast. Thinking she had missed it, it was to her Scouter's information that it reared up from behind and streaked towards her. Seething, she twisted about in the air and focused her energy around her foot. A second later and she struck it dead-on, smashing it to explode into the distant horizon, exploding in a column of flames that decimated whatever it had touched.

It was long enough of a distraction that Raditz had met her in the air and collided clenched fists in a mighty hammer fist onto her back. The wind exhaled from her lungs, pain shot from the point of contact and she was sent spiraling down, forcing her to the ground. Landing on all fours, the ground splintered and dust kicked up. She seethed at the very ingratiating feeling of being played for a fool. She dared not look at the prince, for she knew he was either enjoying her situation or just about fed up with her. Punching the earth, she brought herself back to her feet and reignited her body in her red aura.

"Hey, Aspara, you need help?" Gula asked from the background, earning her immediate ire.

"Stay out of this! Both of you!" She jeered back at her colleagues with a vein pulsing above her right brow.

"That's not fair!" Kuka cried out akin to a whine. "The only one left is the bald shorty, and two on one won't be that fun."

"Then take turns, just leave me alone!"

"Stuck-up bitch, what a hardass," He muttered with discontent, turning to look at the aforementioned dwarf with resignation. "Sorry, but it looks like you're going to have to be enough for the both of us. Nothing personal, short-stuff."

Gulping, Kuririn knew he was in for an impossible fight. Tenshinhan could handle these two with less than full power, but he was already spent from finishing off Bocho. Without support, it was unlikely he was going to win. But even still, did his friends know they were going to win when they fought and died on their feet?

"Nothing personal? Sorry I can't say the same, Saiyan scum!" Kuririn bellowed out fiercely, his ki igniting fiercely around his stout frame and forming a tightly woven white flame. "This is for the friends you guys killed! For Tenshinhan, for Chaozu, and for Yamcha! And for the all the people you slaughtered in the capitals! Every last one of them will be avenged!"

The two Saiyans exchanged a pair of looks before kicking off the soil in a blur of high velocity. Shimmering to either side of the smaller martial artist, Kuka swung a hammer fist strike while Gula swung his foot to catch his target by the feet. In a surprising gesture, Kuririn leaped timely above Gula's leg and shoulder-slammed into Kuka's abdomen. The Saiyan stumbled back, surprised by the maneuver and couldn't defend against a cartwheeling rise of the child-like fighter to rapidly kick him in the face. Gritting his teeth, he clapped his palms where he was for a second just as Gula palmed up at his backflipping frame. He caught his foot, just in time to see Kuririn form split into three. The sight made the Saiyan hesitate just enough for the former monk to slam a kikoha from each hand straight into his upper torso and face.

Letting the force of the blast carry him away, Kuririn landed with a graceful crouch, sliding the sole of his left foot behind while leaning forward on a bent knee. The right fist clenched in an upward come hither sign while the left was held in a flat palm aiming at an arch behind. Despite a bead of nervous sweat crawling down his naked scalp, his eyes were cool and focused. The Saiyans sputtered in confusion and turned with renewed alarm at the short fighter at performing so well regardless of his lack of brute strength.

He wasn't going to roll over and let them pummel him after all.

"Lucky shot, punk!" Kuka snarled, his body engulfed in a lime colored aura just as Gula spat out a wad of blood, wiping the soot off his own body calmly. The latter Saiyan visibly had throbbing veins framing his brow, as evidenced by a cold sneer of being made a fool of with a simple Afterimage technique.

Raising his arm, he formed a triage of orange colored spheres that rotated violently in front of his palm. Crackling with intensity, he fired them off, they'd all soar in a zigzag of jagged directions while being remotely controlled by him. Smashing through rock and burning ozone in the air, it made the dwarf widened his eyes at the attack's trajectory. Grounding his teeth together, Kuririn chose to use his left arm and swiveled his body around to fire a kiai at the balls, sending them scattering away and crash in fiery blasts around him.

During his attention of avoiding molten damage, Kuka barreled into him, battering a boot straight into the side of his head. His vision swam and his small frame pinwheeled as darkness threatened to creep into the recesses of his eyesight. The only thing that righted him was a follow-up kikoha barrage that struck him in the chest, legs and arms in a shotgun attack by Gula. Tumbling head over heels, he barely clawed at the earth to stop himself from falling face first.

Heaving, he stood up and blocked out the pain, raising shaking fists up to stare past the blood threatening to blind him from gashes over his brows. The pair of Saiyans looked unsatisfied by the damage they did, given he had the strength to stand. Shouting out loud, he powered up once more and struck his stance, feeling confident that he still had the advantage of being smaller than any fighter they've encountered.

He'd catch a glance of Aspara still struggling over Pan's rage-filled power and Piccolo's coordination with Raditz. The three worked in flawless unison, despite Gokū's daughter having almost no awareness of how to time her attacks with the two more experienced fighters. It was clear that the Saiyaness was biting more than she could chew, as evidenced by her spewing of obscenities and insults while shouting at the trio.

"We can still do this!" Kuririn thought with renewed vigor, looking over at the pair of Saiyans, now charging at him once more. Leaping up, he'd form a Kamehameha at his side, the cerulean gleam coloring his form and making his enemies raise guards. Firing it behind himself, he'd propel himself straight into their near locked shoulders, making them stumble away as he'd rise up into the air with the beam. Halting its propulsion, he'd charge it once more and widen its range to hit the unprepared enemies with a mighty shout, forcing them to take more damage as well. "We can still make it in time! Just get here soon and don't make a liar out of me, Gokū!"

Earth's Skies, Above Earth

Bulma ordered Jaco — against his will or otherwise — to steer his aircraft higher into the sky; if what her husband had told her was any indication, their destination was higher than the clouds. Tights was looking towards her sister with a measure of curiosity; she wasn't fascinated by the view, after all, but how could she be? She'd been to other planets before. Earth's skies held no fascination for her. Next to her was a satchel, and resting inside were seven glowing orbs — the Dragon Balls.

If Bulma was to be believed, these orbs, when gathered and the words were spoken, could summon forth a dragon, Shénlóng, and compel him to grant them one single wish. Naturally, this sounded fantastical, but considering that she'd thought the same about aliens until Jaco, she couldn't call her baby sister a liar. Still, the idea of a wish granting dragon seemed too farfetched.

"You OK, sis?" asked Bulma. Her new optical implant kept her up to date on the battle, and she didn't like the news she was receiving. Someone else had fallen, and it didn't look like any of the Saiyans; the combat strength reading was too low. It was a bit strange that she would ask Tights if she was OK; if anyone shouldn't be alright, it would be Bulma.

"I should be asking you that," replied Tights. "Your new implant has to be keeping you...informed. That can't be good for your health."

Bulma chuckled. Her sister was nothing if not intuitive. She waved it off however, "Don't worry about be. It's...distracting, but it isn't anything I can't power through. Besides, once we summon Shénlóng and wish for Son, he'll send those Saiyans packing!"

The older woman smiled, casting her sister a gaze. "You have a lot of faith in him, don't you?"

"I do," was the warm reply. "I suppose, after awhile...I've come to feel that Son can do anything. He was a dorky little boy when I met him — didn't know the first thing about girls, and was far from polite — but he was remarkable if only for all the strength he packed into that small body." Bulma reminisced fondly of how she met the then young boy, and his naiveté to the world. She conveniently neglected to mention to her sister that she entertained the idea for a brief second all boys had tails when she saw him. "He did so many impossible things, and fought so hard for us...that you couldn't help but want to root for him. You couldn't help but believe he could do anything."

"Oh..."

"You remember the Piccolo Daimaō?" asked Bulma. "When he overthrew the King and declared himself King? He pretty much tried to turn the whole world into a Hell, but it was Son who resolved the whole thing when he was just a boy."

"T-That was Son?!" Tights' eyes widened, her mouth agape. She looked at the Dragon Balls again, her face set. "I'm suddenly feeling a lot more hopeful."

"That's why I'm trying not to freak out," said the younger of the sisters. Even though I'm worried as hell for Pan! Son, when you get back, if anyone has touched a hair on her head, you rip them in half!

"Hey, I hate to interrupt your chatter, but I'm seeing some sort of floating structure coming into view," called Jaco.

"That'd be it," confirmed Bulma. "It sounds like what Son told me about."

The spacecraft rose higher, approaching the aforementioned structure. Tights craned her head to the dome to get a good look at it, and was surprised by what she saw. The structure was half of a sphere, floating without support above Earth. Had it been much higher, it might have been a satellite. The closer they got to it, the finer certain details became. Built on top of the platform is a three-pronged palace entrance, and lining the surface appeared to be palm trees and evergreens. It was multi-coloured, with a ladder reaching from the base to the top, but it was a seemingly vestigial structure, due to it not properly connecting with anything else.

"We're going in for a landing," said Jaco, and he turned the ship towards the floating half-sphere. With a flick of the controls, the ship moved easily at his command. Ascending, Tights was able to see minuscule details she'd missed; the triple array of colours, the intricate patterns carved into the material, the golden inlay, it was beautifully constructed. If she'd been an archaeologist, this would be a fascinating part of Earth's history. Yet her writer's mind was already working; a story about a castle in the sky had a certain intrigue.

There was mild turbulence, which Jaco concluded wasn't natural, yet he steered through it just fine — "An elite Galactic Patrolman's spaceship is made of sturdier stuff!" — and landed the craft neatly onto the squared titles of the Palace. The dome opened with a hiss, and Bulma was the first to leap out. She lande awkwardly onto the tiles, and the first thing she noticed was just how difficult it was to breath.

"I should have figured as much..." she said through quick breaths. "The oxygen is thinner up here..." The lavender-haired woman turned towards the ship, and called out a warning to her sister and extraterrestrial friend. "Sis! Jaco! Careful; the air's pretty scarce!" Bulma's warning was pointless, though; Tights leapt down from the spaceship with far greater ease than Bulma herself, and grinned. Unlike Bulma, the girl wasn't visibly worn out from the lesser oxygen content of the upper atmosphere.

As if in response to Bulma's surprise, Tights' grin widened. "I've been to other planets with Jaco before, Bulma. Not all of them had the oxygen levels that Earth does on their surfaces."

The lavender-haired girl let out a dejected sigh; here, she'd thought her warning to her sister was a kindness, and was clearly put-out by Tights' experience in the situation. Jaco was more reluctant to leave the ship than the others, despite his species naturally being able to breathe well in these kinds of conditions. He'd never seen a place like this; it wasn't of science, so it boggled the mind.

"...Who are you, and how did you make it to the Palace?" inquired a calm, level voice. It was without irritation or panic, only purpose. The trio turned to see a man with astoundingly dark skin, a blank expression, and red lips staring at this. His attire was that of a vest, white pants and a turban. He stared at them intently, and Bulma could feel the sweat drop down her neck.

"W-We're here to see God," she stammered, realising how utterly absurd a sentence like that sounded when one spoke it aloud. She motioned over Tights, who was carrying the satchel with the Dragon Balls. "The Saiyans are at-attacking Earth, you see?! An we wanted to wish my husband back here — closest to the Afterlife — so he can fight the Saiyans off!"

"I see," replied the man. There was a pregnant pause, with the four standing in an awkward silence, before he turned around. "You do not seem to be lying. Very well; you may look upon the face of God. I will be back."

"There's no need, Mr. Popo," came another voice. It was wizened with age, tired, but strong. A figure had stepped out of the three-pronged entrance to the inner sanctum of the Palace. Leaning on his cane, he was old, appearing frail, with wrinkled green skin, sharp eyes, and draped in robes. To some, this was the face of Piccolo Daimaō. To a select few, it was the face of God. To Bulma, it was both. "I am well aware of this girl; she is the wife of our young Son Gokū."

Tights was shocked; her black eyes widened, her mouth agape. "I-It's Piccolo Daimaō! Bulma! That's Piccolo Daimaō! I thought Son killed him!"

Bulma immediately sensed her sister's panic; an alert from her optical implant conveniently informed her that Tights' heart rate was increasing dramatically. "N-No, this isn't Piccolo!" assured Bulma. She explained to Tights how Piccolo Daimaō and God used to be the same person centuries ago, but now God was a kind man and Piccolo Daimaō was the same Piccolo now fighting the Saiyans.

The older sister's breathing eased up, exhaling a sigh of relief. Jaco on the other hand, cast God a bewildered look.

"Wait just a sec; your "God" is a Nameccian?"

"Nameccian?" asked Bulma, perplexed. "Wait, like an alien?" "Exactly like an alien," replied Jaco. "The Nameccians are native to the planet Namek, and they're a group of homogeneous peoples. They're a peaceful race, and more or less keep to themselves. I didn't think your "God" would also be one."

The trio looked at God, who cast a weary glance of understanding at them all. The elderly deity gripped his cane, shifting his weight to it, and let out a resigned sigh.

"Explain what?" asked Bulma, sounding nervous. What could the God of Earth need to own up to?

"I had my suspicions about my origins," continued God unimpeded. "Never a solid thought, but a nagging feeling in the back of my mind. I knew I was…unique…to put it simply. My first memories were of a place I now know to be the Yunzabit Highlands—"

"WHAT?!" A stunned gasp from the two women. The Yunzabit Highlands were the metaphorical ends of the Earth. Barring the northernmost islands on the true fringes of the world which were detached from the main continent, the Highlands were the last vestige of land anyone could hope to inhabit.

A look of exasperated understanding crossed God's face at this second interruption, but otherwise he continued as if the two women had not just shouted loud enough to deafen him. "It was almost a barren wasteland, and I couldn't comprehend why I'd been left there. Perhaps the strangest thing was the house I lived in. It wasn't like any house that should have existed — resting on four spindly legs, with a door at the base. And the door opened with the utterance of a single word: Piccolo."

Piccolo? Bulma had the wherewithal to stop interrupting, and her face have away any exclamation. The door opened…with the word Piccolo?

"Eventually, I came to realise that I was alone," said God, a deep sadness pooling in his eyes. It was hard to comprehend; for someone to have been alone ever since they could remember, and to have to accept that reality. "It was only after I set out into the rest of the world, leaving that house behind, when I saw just how vast everything was. I encountered the previous God, Mika, during his final days, and became his successor after purging the evil in my heart: this evil would become Piccolo.

I would go on to create the Dragon Balls during my time as God — whether it was to atone for my sin of unleashing the Devil on the people I was supposed to protect, I can't say — and, despite never having done it before, it made me feel nostalgic." He cast a look at the satchel that Tights held, fully aware that his creations were there. "Perhaps one of my ancestors on my own planet underwent the process of manufacturing the Dragon Balls. That was the first time I'd have even an inkling of my origins."

Bulma was astounded by this information, but knew that now wasn't the time to be inquisitive. "God, I'd love to ask more, and I will later, but can we please summon Shénlóng? We're on a small time crunch."

"Yes, that's correct, but not for the reason you think," said God, standing aside and motioning them forward. "I took up far too much time speaking, so summon Shénlóng and do it quickly. I fear for a dark shadow in the coming hour, and it will mark the end of Shénlóng."

"A...dark shadow?" repeated Tights.

"Yes. Piccolo knows it too. He's going to die."

"Piccolo?!" This sent Bulma into a far more proactive panic, and she practically snatched the satchel from her sister's hands. She had a dozen questions — how did God know Piccolo was about to die? What did Piccolo's death have to do with the Dragon Balls? — but the fact that Piccolo dying left her daughter unprotected against the Saiyans, as she scarcely considered the girl's uncle to be better than Piccolo, was enough to make her move. She emptied the satchel, and the seven orbs fell to the tiled ground, shining brilliantly.

God stepped forward, holding his hands over the spheres. "Then, it is time. If Son Gokū doesn't make it, this will be the final wish on the Dragon Balls. Come forth, Shénlóng! And grant our wish!"

The sky blackened. There was a flash of light and a clap of sound like thunder. The crimson orbs flashed in a blinding yellow light, which shot upwards into the sky like a reverse lightning bolt. It began to coil in the air, wounding itself in the sky as it took form, solidifying into the imposing shape of the Dragon God, Shénlóng. The force of his arrival caused a giant gust of wind to form, rippling the clothes and hair of all those present.

"So this...is Shénlóng?" Tights gasped, her coal-black eyes twinkling in the light of the Dragon Balls. She took in the sight of the Dragon God, the shimmering scales, the fierce countenance, and the glowing red eyes. But everything was capped off by the immense size of Shénlóng. "It's unreal..."

Even Jaco was taken aback; the idea of a magic dragon being real hadn't actually crossed his mind, and he had thought Bulma was more or less making it up. But he believed something if his eyes could see it, and here it was.

Shénlóng spoke, and when he did, his voiced boomed across the Palace; the very vibrations felt like they would shake the very tiles apart. "You, who have gathered the seven Dragon Balls. Reflect upon your desires; I will grant but one."

"Shénlóng, in the Afterlife, there is a man called Son Gokū," said God steadily. "He's training on the North Kaiō's planet, but he is not dead. Bring him here!"

There was a pause between the delivery of the wish, and Shénlóng's response. Bulma was beginning to think the wish was impossible, until Shénlóng spoke again. "Son Gokū has agreed," said the Dragon God. "As you have requested, he will be brought here to the Palace of God." The Dragon God's eyes flashed a brilliant red, and where there had been no one, stood Gokū, transported to them in an instant.

"Your wish has been granted," said Shénlóng. "Fare thee well." Shénlóng vanished, and the orbs were wrapped in a glowing yellow light as they began to ascend into the air. Floating for but a moment, the orbs split off into every direction, flying to far flung corners of the planet. The sky brightened again.

With Shénlóng gone, Bulma was able to truly look at her husband. Much to her surprise, she saw that he'd come back from the Afterlife looking different. He wasn't wearing the gi she remembered, and in its place was new attire; the blue undershirt remained, but worn over it was an orange gi top with blue lining from the collar down to the hem, and it wasn't worn tucked like his previous gi. Near the base, "亀" was inscribed, but "界王" was inscribed on the back in a large white circle. His gi pants were of a darker orange, and his boots retained their shape, but now blue bandages wrapped from the ankle to the bottom of his pant legs. In place of armbands, Gokū now wore blue bandages tied around his palms and wrists, and a blue obi sash kept his gi tied. His tail poked out from the back, much like it had in his childhood.

If it had been a different day, the sight of his tail would have terrified her. But given the circumstances, and how long he'd been away, this was a minor detail she shoved out of her mind. Instead of asking pointless questions and wasting precious time, she ran over to Gokū and threw her arms around her husband. The Saiyan was nothing but surprised, but perhaps moreso when Bulma planted a firm kiss onto his lips — a kiss filled with a year of lost feelings.

The kiss certainly came as a surprise, but Gokū, having experienced his fair share of these — and then some — by now, reciprocated fiercely. His tail wrapped around Bulma's waist, pulling her closer to him; this was more of an instinctual Saiyan gesture than anything. It took a full minute, as well as an obtrusive throat clearing from Tights, for the two to remember that they weren't at their own home.

"Son, Bulma, as nice as it is to see you two together again, is this the time?"

"R-Right," said Bulma, blushing like she was sixteen again. Gokū could only chuckle in his familiar laugh, but the two relented and broke apart. Gokū's tail slipped back from his wife's waist, and the women explain to Gokū the situation — the Saiyan's arrival, the destruction the aliens had wrought, and the fact that two people, most likely their own, had died.

Gokū's normally kind eyes narrowed, and he felt his fists clench. Now that he was free to spread his senses out, he could see what Bulma meant. There was a fierce battle raging; he didn't know which ki belonged to who. Once he'd been fully updated, Gokū's casual demeanor shifted into business mode. "I'll get down there as quick as I can; first, I'll pop by Karin's place an' grab some Senzu!"

"Son Gokū, you must hurry," stressed God. "Piccolo is fighting with the Saiyans, and his death will mean mine; as well as the inertness of the Dragon Balls! We will no longer be able to fix a thing!"

"Son. when you get there, protect our baby," said Bulma, though that statement went without saying and Gokū knew it. "And when you meet the Saiyans...and pay them back ten-times over!"

The Saiyan grinned, and Gokū flashed them all a thumbs up; he then turned, jumping off of the Palace and flying straight down. In a rapid descent, he passed by Karin's Tower. "Oi! Master Karin!"

"G-Gokū?" the cat god shouted in surprise.

"Do you have any Senzu?!"

The cat fetched the urn, and tossed the remaining two beans to Gokū. "Here! The last two!"

"Thanks!" crowed Gokū, stashing them away in his gi. "Kinto'un!" He shouted for his magic cloud, and the yellow cloud came pelting to its owner as if it had been waiting. Gokū landed onto it neatly, enjoying the familiar feeling of one of his old friends. "Go, Kinto'un! We've gotta save everyone!"

Wastelands, Earth, Earlier

The sky blackened. The sudden oncoming of the night shocked everyone, and immediate battle ceased. Pan, even with her unabating rage, cam to a halt, the tailed girl stopping short of an assault to glance at the sky.

"W-Why is it nighttime?!" was the confused half-Saiyan's cry.

Vegeta and the other Saiyans were as confused as the Dragon Team; he'd wanted to angle their arrival as close to Earth's night as he could, in case the riffraff somehow managed to push him far enough to require the Saiyan's true power. But no planet simply switched from day to night as if turning on a switch, it didn't work that way.

"Something weird is going on," groaned Aspara. "It's too early for nightfall!"

Kuririn was the one to state it first, though Piccolo realised it at the same time. This sudden oncoming on darkness wasn't an omen; it was the signal for their hope. "Gokū!" He crowed, fists clenched in excitement. "Gokū's coming back!"

"Kakarrot is?!" The words came three sources; Raditz, Aspara, and Vegeta, all at once. Raditz grinned; he didn't like to rely on his younger brother, especially in the face of Aspara and Vegeta, but at this point, beggars couldn't be choosers. A fresh fighter, especially a fellow Saiyan, on their side, might even the odds.

"That bastard," muttered Piccolo. "He sure knows how to keep us in suspense. If the sky is dark, this is surely the work of Shénlóng and the Dragon Balls."

"Papa's coming?!" Pan shouted excitedly. "So Papa's gonna beat up the bad guys!"

Vegeta's expression narrowed. Dragon Balls? He directed his gaze to Kuririn, addressing him directly. "You! Dwarf! I've heard of these 'Dragon Balls' before; mysterious wish orbs that grant the desires of one who collects them. But wasn't Kakarrot on Earth? Why would you need Dragon Balls for him?"

Before anyone could stop him, Kuririn shot back, "We used them to bring Gokū back from the Afterlife! He was given special permission to train with the gods and now he's gonna kick your asses!"

Piccolo and Raditz flashed death glares in Kuririn's direction.

"Kuririn!"

"You fool!"

Both shouted fiercely at him, knowing that the last thing they needed to do was stoke the flames of an already desperate situation. Bragging wouldn't help them now, it would only make it worse.

"I see," Vegeta grinned, adjusting his Scouter. "Aspara, Kuka, Gula. We're going to expedite our plans. Kill them all."

Aspara flashed a predatory grin, snarling like a wild beast. "Prince, I don't need to be ordered to kill them; I'm going to dye the ground red. But why the sudden rush?"

"Consider it a change of plans," Vegeta replied casually. "More like...a solution to our problems. That Nameccian over here is most likely responsible for the creation of these Dragon Balls. We'll clean up the trash here on Earth, and make a visit to their home planet, Namek. The natives are bound to be hospitable, and what better welcoming gift than a set of Dragon Balls?" Truly, he could see it now; a wish from those, and he would be free to dominate the Universe. Free from him.

Realisation hit Raditz with immense force, and he couldn't help but eye Vegeta with pity. "So that's what these years of servitude have reduced you to, Vegeta?"

The sky lightened, the dark clouds clearing away to reveal the sunlight. Breaking through, the battlefield was illuminated by the warmth of sun, though it did nothing to stave off the dread that permeated the air. Aspara, Kuka, and Gula had been all but toying with the foursome, but Vegeta had given his orders, and their execution was impending.

"Handle the midget and keep out of my way, boys," Aspara ordered, cracking her knuckles. "These three are mine. I'll start with the brat! I've never let another Saiyan manhandle me, especially not some worthless half-ling!"

"Wait, you don't—" Raditz started, but the Saiyan woman cut him off mid-sentence.

"Shut up, traitor!" snarled Aspara. "You'll get yours, so just sit there while I reduce our precious little family to paste!" Her slender fingers snapped and crackled with electricity, forming a sharp aura of red ki. As she saw Pan trying to brace herself, the woman said, "Don't tense up; it'll only make it messier." Swinging her arms down, a blast of ki was expelled from her fingertips. It warped and flashed before coalescing into the form of a crescent, and ripped its way towards a terrified young girl.

"Brat, move yo-!" A strangled cry from Raditz was cut off by an immense howl of pain. Not from Pan; in that moment, there had been a green blur, and red ki clashed with an entirely different target. Piccolo had practically materialised in front of Pan, and with immense strength, gripped the crescent ki that bore down onto him. His body was spurting purple liquid, blood splashing onto the grass, but the Nameccian did not budge. He turned towards Pan, eyes burning, and forced out a single word.

"Run!"

"P-Piccolo!" Pan screeched, eyes wide and voice piercing.

Dust was kicked from the ground as the blast's velocity attempting to force the Nameccian backwards. Fierce growls echoed in his throat, his mouth agape in a mixture of pain and frustration. Saliva dripped from his mouth as Piccolo kept a firm grip on the on the crescent and held his ground. Raditz, clearly seeing Pan wasn't about to run, dashed forward and pulled his niece aside. When Piccolo saw that Pan was completely removed from the problem, his muscles bulged, clearly expanding via some unnatural source; the stress of this action and the applied pressure of the crescent caused his muscles to shred, and more blood burst from his body.

"He's...insane!" Aspara gasped; Kuka and Gula, who should have been making a move to kill Kuririn, could only gape as Piccolo tried to suppress Aspara's technique while his body broke apart.

"This bastard...he's not your average Nameccian!" hissed Kuka.

A final mighty roar bellowed from Piccolo's lungs, and he managed to completely force the blast aside, deflecting it and sending it towards a nearby mountain. The crescent crashed into it, creating an explosion as it slashed the peak to shreds. In the end, the mountain looked better than Piccolo. From his shoulder to his groin, a horrible slashed ripped through his flesh. It was a darkened purple, with lighter purple liquid — blood — pouring out. Ruptures on his arms, which had shrunken back to their regular size, showed bare muscle and more blood.

"He managed to deflect it!" gasped Aspara, her shock refusing to subside even when Piccolo fell to his knees and collapsed.

Vegeta, however, found this incredibly amusing, and laughed cruelly. "Is none of you capable of fending us off without dying?! It's pathetic!"

Kuririn could only watch the scene, shocked to his core. Of all the things he expected to see, an act of nobility from Piccolo was the lowest on the list.

Pan scrambled over to Piccolo's dying form, frantically gripping his body. "P-Piccolo! Don't die! Papa will be here soon! He can help!"

"It's...too late..." gasped Piccolo, coughing horribly. "I'm already knocking on...death's door...I don't have...more than a minute, brat." Blood spurted from his mouth; his internal systems had been ruptured entirely; short of an outside source, he truly wasn't going to make it. He couldn't even regenerate; he just didn't have the strength. "These past few months...with you and that idiot...have been...so strange for me..."

"P-Piccolo, don't talk!" stammered Pan. "Please, just wait for Papa!"

"It's...pathetic in the end..." continued Piccolo, ignoring Pan's pleading. Soft tears had begun to fall from his eyes now. "...the Piccolo Daimaō killed...because he shielded a child..." Another spurt of blood accompanied a section of violent coughing. "But...they weren't bad in the end...these past few months...I took you in...on a chance...but in the end...you've made me proud..." He attempted to raise an arm towards Pan, but they couldn't move. "Don't...die...Pan..."

With these last words uttered, Piccolo passed on. While the remaining fighters were unaware, Bulma, Tights, and Jaco had just witnessed the passing of God as well.

"Isn't that all just sweet?" hissed Aspara, watching the whole scene in utter irritation. "All you did was adjust the order in which you die, Nameccian! You didn't save a single damn person! But it will make her death even more painful!" Aspara approached a distraught Pan, cracking her knuckles. She raised a hand, despite immediate protests from Raditz, and slammed it downward.

But a resulting blow never came. In the brief second between her throwing a punch and expecting it to connect, it was stopped entirely by a new arrival. Clad in his familiar orange, tail whipping and expression stony, Gokū had stopped the blow entirely, grabbing Aspara's wrist with his hand, clenching down like a vice. Gokū shoved her off, before picking up Pan and moving her a distance away, closer to Raditz.

Kuka could gape at Kakarrot's display, but Gula eyed him with curiousity. To fling Aspara — the third strongest of their group — back like a doll was no easy feat. Wasn't Kakarrot supposed to be low-class trash?

"G-Gokū!" Kuririn gasped. "You're here!"

"Is this how you do things, little brother?" inquired Raditz. "Better late than never?"

"Glad to see you could make it, Kakarrot," grinned Vegeta. "Though I hope you haven't arrived with any sentiment of defeating us, have you?"

Gokū ignored the lot of them briefly, walking over towards Piccolo's body. He didn't need to check for a pulse; once glance at his rival told him that Piccolo was dead. He proceeded to scope out the battlefield, and saw a myriad of horrors — Chaozu's charred body, Yamcha's fallen corpse with a gaping wound, and Tenshinhan, riddled with holes.

"Yamcha...Tenshinhan...Chaozu...Piccolo..." Gokū's voice was a snarl, trembling in fury. "You killed them all...and now God is dead too..."

A "pipipipipi" sound alerted Vegeta to the fact that his Scouter was now going haywire. Numbers were shooting up and he realised the source was coming from their new guest: Kakarrot's power was steadily rising. So it fluctuates with anger? Just like that child...

In a simple movement, Gokū crossed the battlefield, placing a hand on the back of Kuririn and bringing him closer to Pan and Raditz. The sheer speed of this movement shocked all present. "Sorry for bein' late. You guys did great." Gokū reached into his gi, pulling out the two Senzu, and looked at his family and best friend. "Master Karin only had these two; one of you ain't gonna be able to get one."

Raditz recognised the bean instantly; the wonder drug his brother had given him a year prior. He resolutely raised a hand. "That's the Senzu, right? I don't need it; give one to the girl first."

The three looked at Raditz in surprise.

"You..." Gokū began, but Raditz cut him off.

"Say a word and I'll beat the crap out of you right here, little brother."

The younger Saiyan couldn't help but grin, and he gave the Senzu to his daughter and oldest friend. The two ate the beans, and felt the pain wash away from their bodies, wounds stitching instantly. It was a mystical relief that could only come from this sort of magic. Gokū placed a hand on his daughter's hair, so like his own, smiling. "Feel better now?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Papa!" Pan smiled. The physical pain was gone, though the Senzu couldn't wash away the emotional pain of Piccolo's death, something about having her father there made her feel like they could do anything.

"You know..." came a guttural growl. "We've been oddly kind to watch this, haven't we, Gula?"

"I agree, Kuka," said the other Saiyan to his compatriot. "It might be time...for Kakarrot to see how we treat traitors."

The two teammates entered a formation, and rushed Gokū in tandem. Kuririn, who had been fighting them up until this point, was quick to realise they'd only been toying with him. The speed they showcased now, and the speed they'd had during his battle, was on a completely different level. Gokū didn't budge, nor did he even turn around; when Kuka made contact first, Gokū's arm reached behind him and grabbed Kuka by the face. In a single instance, Gokū tossed Kuka several feet away, sending him crashing into the ground. Gula was next, and Gokū made ample use of his muscular tail, slamming it into Gula's cheek, shattering the bone and the man careened into his comrade.

At the sight of Kakarrot's tail, Raditz couldn't help but grin. His little brother had regained a part of himself, a Saiyan part. He turned to Kuka and Gula, weakened and broken by Kakarrot's quick assault, and raised a palm. Pink ki erupted from his hands, and it rushed across the ground towards his fallen former comrades. The resulting explosion shook the arena, and the bodies were instantly charred. Kuka and Gula had been killed.

"Raditz," said Gokū reproachfully. "That was too far; they couldn't move, I'd made sure of that!"

"I did it out of our best interests, Kakarrot," replied Raditz sharply. "I've worked with this squad for years. If you don't kill them, they will not stop. Now do you want to waste your energy arguing ethics, or work with your big brother?"

Gokū frowned. Whatever appreciation he'd had for Raditz letting Pan have the Senzu was becoming mitigated by his persistent pragmatism in battle. "No." He tightened the obi at his waist. "I'll be enough for this."

A/N:
Demod20: This was the shortest yet fastest half I've written. I had a lot of fun if only because this was the first time Pan has had a passive rage mode and her two uncles backed her up. Overall enjoyable fights including Kuririn against Kuka and Gula.

LastationLover5000: So, my section was quite a blast to write. It's not often that I wind up writing the longer section of the story, but I suppose it was fortunate that I did; Demod's computer has pretty much crashed. Depending on when he gets it fixed, this may disrupt our schedule. But, regardless, we managed to get this chapter out in time. I'm actually feeling quite sick, but I wanted to get the chapter done, so here we are. Gonna get some rest after this. My A/N's are usually longer, but I'll cut it short here today. Thanks to Firegod00 for proofing as always, and we will see you all soon with our next chapter!