Chapter Three - Heaven? Hell? Hard Pass!

King Yemma sure is big. Really big. The kind of big that makes you feel like a bug in front of him. His desk looks like it was carved out of a mountain—or mahogany. And his chair? Honestly, it could house a nice little estate if zoning laws up here even matter.

"I'll audit them all later, damn it!" King Yemma jabs his table, flipping hundred thousands of pages as though he was talking about receipts after tax season, not actual souls. He could make a good IRS agent, though.

"Once this last batch is through, I'll get to them one by one. Being the all-knowing ogre doesn't mean I get breaks." King Yemma closes one of the gigantic books, setting them aside, and with deadpan flair, cracks open another tome thick enough to crush any building. "Oh, and Yubby, did you get all that? I need you to remind me."

"Sure thing, boss! We made the cut-off for this season's queue and managed to deliver them all to Limbo."

An ogre by his side in a plain dress shirt and an odd black-yellow necktie tilts his glasses, closing his notepad. Apparently, that guy could punch a thousand souls into Hell without breaking a sweat. It's like the word "rank and file" took a whole new meaning. I could only wonder what King Yemma is like.

Good thing Rodriguez and Andrez were one of the souls last in line, though, when that happened. If they'd been caught in the earlier stampede, they probably would've been marked as "disturbance of cosmic order" and fast-tracked to Hell along with the others. Instead, they were just escorted by the Limbo Express—yes, that's what the ogres actually called this multi-deckered bus so long it might as well be a train.

And there wasn't just one. I lost count of how many of those things they rolled out. Each one looked like it could carry a small city's worth of souls, and still they kept coming. It took a day or two before they managed to funnel everyone into the vehicles.

Rodriguez and Andrez made sure to throw me their goodbyes before the ogres casually shoved them into one of the bus-train monstrosities and slammed the door behind them.

Looks like King Yemma got tired seeing all of Planet Sapiez's souls filling the court hall all at once. So he just judged them with all the care of someone skimming terms and conditions—each one waved off with a single, massive stamp and sent to Limbo, the celestial equivalent of "I'll deal with it later." Guess I can't really blame him; I would have done the same.

Now King Yemma, in all his mighty presence, is looking at me. I could have sworn I would get goosebumps by how intense his stare is, if I even had skin and hair, that is. The view of the golden clouds through the circular windows behind him looks nice to behold right about now. So does the yellow floor, actually. Sparkling clean. Like someone power-washed it just to watch people's souls get judged on a polished finish.

And the telephone—pastel green? Seriously? Doesn't even look like it belongs to him. Then again, he is reddish pink. Where does it even connect to, anyway? Still can't wrap my head around the fact Other World uses electricity. And that bonsai on his desk looks—

"So you're from Earth."

He can tell just by looking at me?

"Yes, King Yemma." I lower my head.

He snickers. "Don't think being respectful boosts your chances of getting into Heaven. It's all in what you did while you were alive."

Right. Good to know brown-nosing doesn't work up here. Now, how do I ask to be sent to King Kai without sounding entitled, like I have done something meritorious? Offending him is definitely not on my to-do list right now, lest I want to be kicked so hard to Hell.

"I'm well aware, King Yemma. I'm sure your courtroom holds the highest standards in judging the dead." Real smooth, Carson.

"Ha, aren't you a boot-licker." King Yemma thumbs through one of his records with surprising speed for such meaty fingers. "Your Ki definitely reeks of Earth."

Ki has smell? How is that possible?

He flips a few more pages, eyes narrowing. "Let's see here. Your soul condition suggests mid-twenties—give or take a few years. The most recent death in your age group is within the last seventeen Earth days."

The pages stop turning.

"Ah, here we go," he mutters, tapping the entry with a fingernail. "Found you, Carson Nessan. Your name matches, death matches… well. You're lucky I'm in a stamping mood."

Well, what do you know? This body has the same name as mine in my original world. How convenient.

"King Yemma, might I just take this opportunity to ask something before being judged?"

King Yemma leans forward, glancing down at me in what seems like mild interest. "We don't just judge on a whim. We track every single significant good and bad deed you've done in your life." He taps a finger against the side of his desk, causing the air to hum with power.

"And don't think for a second that I haven't heard every excuse in the book. I've had more fake philosophical arguments thrown my way than I care to count, all from souls trying to talk their way into Heaven when they clearly belong in Hell." His eyes narrow, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So you better be straight with me."

I just stare for a moment, trying to avoid making my awkwardness too obvious. "I just wanted to ask... How can you smell Ki? What do they smell like? How could you tell I was from Earth by just smelling my Ki?"

For a moment, King Yemma freezes, his usual air of unshakable confidence faltering just a bit. He blinks, clearly caught off guard by the question. How satisfying!

His eyes narrow, scanning me and the smirk I'm trying so hard to hide. Then, a low chuckle rumbles in his throat, and he leans back in his chair, clearly amused by the unexpected turn of conversation.

"Wow, you got me there, kid. Was not expecting that." King Yemma runs a finger through the base of his nose in contemplation before scoffing and jabbing his table. "And no, I can't literally smell Ki—what do you think I am, a bloodhound? I may be an ogre to you, but I'm not like those uncivilized brutes from the Demon Realm. Not being a xenophobe or anything, but you Earthlings do tend to lump me in with those demons. If I had my way, I'd toss the lot of you in Hell for that kind of slander!"

He pauses, one thick eyebrow arching like he just realized he's oversharing. Why is he dumping all this on me? Then he clears his throat, looking at his records, then opens up another book while grabbing a pen and writing something.

"Right. All planetary Guardians leave an imprint on every Earthling's soul. It's just the standard. Your Earth's Kami is no exception. That old geezer, though, he's a real piece of work. Always whining like the universe owes him something, and when his other half throws a tantrum, who ends up with the mess? Me. A flood of souls jamming up my gates when he could've just handled it himself. What an idiot."

"Wait, but... how? Kami was here?" I ask, hope crawling into my voice before I can stop it. Does that mean he knows who I am?

King Yemma just blinks, though, then scowls at me, his brows furrowed. A tense pause stretches the air. My breath hitches.

"Your Earth's guardian, here because of you?" Then he bursts into laughter.

It starts as a rumble in his chest before turning into a booming cackle that rattles the floor beneath me. Although I have no feet, the sound of his guffaws sends shockwaves of Ki rippling through the fabric of my soul. He leans into his wooden chair, one hand clutching his side.

"You hear that, Yubby? This guy... He... He really thinks he's something else."

The smaller ogre by his side stifles his laugher behind his mouth, a mocking glance directed at me. "Boy, you don't know even a fraction of the immensity of the powers of this universe."

I stay silent, cursing myself for landing myself in such an embarrassing situation. And what is this Yubby guy's deal anyway? So what if he can send a thousand souls into Hell with one punch? Before I can do something I'd further regret, I just look at the floor, not daring to look at them.

King Yemma wipes a tear from the corner of his eye, still chuckling, and gestures to his book. "And get this, Yubby—says right here he couldn't even survive the eruption from Piccolo's blast. And he honestly thinks that puts him on his Guardian's radar? Pfft! He's barely even worth my snot!"

And they laugh. Again.

It continues for quite a while before they calm down.

"Boy, you're really something else, in a way, I'll give you that." He shakes his head and sighs. "You'd make a fine addition to Heaven—with all those childish delusions. Who knows? Maybe I'll grant you your physical body right now, just for giving me such a memorable conversation."

King Yemma's now smiling, the kind that doesn't look forced, his plump cheeks lifting and eyes gleaming with unsettling serenity. Talk about a mood swing.

"Really? I mean, I would really appreciate it, King Yemma." I bow deeply—maybe too deeply, practically throwing myself into a prostration.

"Bah, not really. Save your groveling for someone else, kid. Only those who truly deserve it can keep their physical bodies." King Yemma reaches for his stamp and brings it down on some paper with a decisive thud. My core jolts, still dreading the worst. "Sure, you had your share of screw-ups—who doesn't? But overall, your record isn't half bad. So congratulations, kid. You don't need to prove yourself anymore. You're bound for Heaven. Or, as you Earthlings call it, your precious pearly gates."

He gestures to Yubby. "Yubby, go tell Pastillas to escort him to Heaven now."

"Yes, King Yemma." Yubby bows and heads toward the enormous east archway.

"But wait, King Yemma!"

He pauses mid-paperwork and gives me a long-suffering look, his lips tightening into a pout and his brows twitching in irritation. Yubby pauses midway, probably interested in what I'm going to say.

"Yes? I don't really have the time to entertain any more of your questions. Some of us actually have a job to do."

I look him in the eyes. "With all due respect, King Yemma... I don't want to go to Heaven. I wish to go and meet King Kai to train."

Yubby widens his eyes, his mouth agape. King Yemma leans his head against one hand, elbow propped on the desk, the corners of his mouth lifting in a tight, strained grin. "Look, kid... if this is another one of your jokes, now's the time to drop it. It's not funny—and definitely not how this works."

"I have a proposal. I hope you could hear me out."

"Oh, and what does your proposal entail?"

"Give me ten years. Within that timeframe, I'd run through Snake Way, train..." I pause before steeling my resolve. "And in return, I will destroy Frieza and dismantle his empire."

Yubby gasps. King Yemma drops his pen, the point of impact jolting my soul for a split second before I steady myself. He notices that and sneers.

"In case you haven't noticed, kid, you're already dead." His glare sharpens, and if looks could kill, I would have been dead thousands of times over.

I do not break eye contact. "I know all about the Dragon Balls. I'm sure you do."

He doesn't blink.

"Even so," he growls, "what makes you so sure you can pull this off in ten years?"

"I have a plan. A risky one, but it might work. And I need to go to King Kai for it to work. Even if I fail—"

King Yemma slams his fists on the desk and rises. "There are no ifs!" he bellows, the vibration of his shout so strong it sends me back a few feet.

"Do you have any idea who you're talking about?! Frieza's power far surpasses anything you could ever hope to reach—even in a hundred lifetimes! You couldn't handle Piccolo's attack, and now you're claiming you'll take down Frieza?!"

"Please, King Yemma, I know I can do this. Even if I weren't dead, I'd still have used the Dragon Balls just to meet King Kai."

His glare remains. "Kid, you know what? I take back what I said." He grabs the newly stamped document and rips it to shreds.

"Congratulations, kid—Heaven's off the table now. Yubby!"

Oh no. Am I going to Hell for this?

"Yes, King Yemma!" Yubby scurries back, frame taut in sheer attention.

King Yemma looks, raising one massive finger to point at me. I brace myself for the announcement. I'd probably just bolt. Either way, I'd fall off Snake Way and end up in Hell. No way King Yemma would chase a single soul down that whole path... right?

"Go get Polivoro! Escort our boy here to Snake Way."

I gasp, letting out the breath I didn't realize I was holding in one sharp burst. King Yemma smirks at me. He's been playing with me the whole time?

"On it, Sir." Yubby Yubby hurries off—this time, without lingering.

"Boy, I like your determination. It's refreshing seeing someone as hot-blooded as you wanting to make a difference." He settles back into his chair again. "But I must warn you though: once you fall off Snake Way, you go to Hell immediately. I don't even know which planet's Hell you might land on because tracking souls who go through Snake Way is way out of our pay grade."

"I thought you wouldn't want me to... I mean, thank you, King Yemma." I shiver, the vision of my dreams finally going true almost at my grasp.

"I'm not unstable or anything, kid. Just wanted to test your convictions. See if you really had what it takes." He props his chin on his cupped hands, elbows resting on the desk. "Gotta say... you're way more foolish than I expected."

"I won't let you down, King Yemma. I promise. I won't go back on my word."

"Save it, kid. I don't really think you're up to the task. Many warriors much more powerful than you have tried going through Snake Way... We never heard from them since."

Except me! I refuse to believe I'd fail. With already a rough plan on my mind, I just have this inkling I could pull this off.

"You don't seem that nervous." King Yemma says, eyes narrowed like he's reading right through me.

"I... I..." I chuckle, trying to shake off this awkward tension. "Well, you see, I'm kinda more excited."

"Yup. You're definitely a fool."

But he smiles, his gaze shifting toward the east. I follow it. Yubby's returning—this time with another ogre wearing the same dress shirt. Must be Polivoro.

"Too bad we're not allowed to mess with the will of souls bound for Heaven," King Yemma mutters. "If they want to see King Kai, then they can. Just one of the weird free will clauses for souls in Heaven, I guess."

He flips through one of the stacks of portfolios on his desk. "Now I have to fill out a whole different form for you. You really do enjoy overworking me, don't you?"

"Yeah, I guess." I just grin, kinda acting like Goku here to look more like a fool that King Yemma's so hellbent on seeing me as.

He doesn't buy it. "Don't push it, kid." And with that, he starts scribbling away on the form he just fished out.

I exhale as Yubby and Polivoro enter the judgment hall. King Yemma acknowledges them with a wave of his hands. Polivoro nods, and with a warm smile etched on his face, strides over to me.

"Hiya! Are you the one aching to challenge Snake Way, yeah?"

"Yes, that's me. I mean, no one else is here but me, so..."

He laughs.

"Snarky, are 'ya? Right. True. Let's get you down there then. I have recently bought this new automobile, and she's been dying to have someone inside her back." He pauses, the blush on his face so striking against his pale skin. "Wait, that sounded weird. I meant the car. Just the car. Not… never mind. You know what I meant."

It's my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I do."

"Just get on with it already, Polivoro!" King Yemma says. He writes some more on before stamping it. "It's all done. He can go there."

Polivoro blushes even more. What's his problem? "Get it on? But King Yemma, why should I get it on—Oh, yeah, I see... I mean... Yes, we're going."

He grabs my tail without a second thought and runs away. My gut drops for a brief moment before I realize I'm flapping like a flag tied to an airplane. Instincts take over, and I scream all my dignity away, pleading for him to stop.

He lets go, and I go limp, collapsing on the floor, belly-first. King Yemma's roars of laughter echo in the halls, the shockwave flipping me over and over like a leaf caught in a gust of wind before I gather my strength and stand up.

Great. Just great. Now, King Yemma's definitely gonna believe I can beat Frieza even less.

"You never fail to make me laugh, Polivoro. That was gold." He continues his laughter while I just stay silent in shame before his laughter dies down. He sighs. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Carson, as per King Kai's rules, I'm giving you your physical body back."

Finally! I didn't even have to ask for it. Thank Kami. This has gone on long enough.

Wait a second.

"Couldn't you have given me my physical body before he dragged me?" Yeah, all my respectful pretenses are gone now. I shoot a glare at Polivoron, who just whistles a tune while gazing at the ceiling.

"Oh, quit being a spoilsport. We had fun, didn't we?" King Yemma drops his smile. "'Cause I'm pretty sure this will be the last smile you'll ever get. I still don't believe you'll make it, and trust me, you don't wanna land in Hell."

I sigh. "I guess that's fair. Whatever."

"Just be careful, okay?"

"I will, King Yemma. Thank you."

"Now. Your body." He flicks his fingers, and the next few seconds, all I know is pain.

It starts in the depths of my soul as my bones slowly emerge, cracking and reshaping inside me, forming a framework that digs deep into my very core. Something about this pain—so alien, so unnatural—splits me open wider than fear. My soul feels everything.

An explosion of sensation reverberates through my head as white matter begins to grow, followed by the slow bloom of gray. My skull encases them like a prison forming around them. Nerves begin snaking outward from my brain, slithering through the emptiness, branching down my spine, crawling through every bone as they form.

There, the pain through my soul blends with the physical, amplified by the nerve signals overloading each newborn nerve with searing sensations.

Each nerve ending latches on to the structure like roots to soil, as though tiny hot coals are penetrating me inside out. My bones shift and stretch, grinding like rocks scraping against each other as they lock into place, like I'm being ground from within.

Teeth emerge and I clench them too hard before gums even form, the sheer pressure from my agony causing me to grind them down on my jaw. Tendons follow, tightening like rope yanked too taught as they lash onto my bones and arrange themselves with cruel precision.

Muscles grow over the framework, slow at first, rippling and flexing, lengthening, like I'm stretched beyond what's possible, the nerves buzzing through every movement. They weave over the framework as the tendons secure them to the bones with such unrelenting force it feels like a vice clamping down on every inch of my being.

I stop the clenching of my teeth and release a long wail of pain. But unlike before, no sound comes out, my soul now already sealed inside this incomplete, still-forming husk.

Organs churn into being somewhere in the mess of it all. I don't know which comes first—heart, lungs, liver—but I feel them inflate, expand, test their shapes inside me as if my body is in a room they're still learning to live in. My body now breathes through my lungs, shallow and rapid, as my throat vibrates and gives a sound to my unceasing wails.

My veins snake their way through the muscles, heat searing through me in waves. Then blood pumps from my heart in waves, pulsing through the veins with each thrum of energy, building momentum as it begins to beat. And beat it does, agitated and overdriven as the pain continues, threatening to hammer my newly formed ribcage.

Gums encase my teeth, as though peeled off with a knife in reverse, forced to grow over what was never meant to be bare. And then the skin. It presses and stretches, smoothing over my raw, throbbing muscles, sweat cascading down my body so fast, as though I've just been pulled from a scalding sea.

Every moment should have been unbearable. I should have collapsed. But instead of fading out, my soul holds, forced to witness its own embodiment, second by agonizing second.

And then, something seems to slip into nonexistence, like a part of me has been locked. My vision is the same. My voice is the same. But looking back, I can't put a finger on how different the experience was when I was in my soul form. It's now buried, locked away deep inside this body, as though I was never in my soul body. As though I had always observed the world through this physical vessel. A dream.

Then something appears within me, something I can't put a finger on. It pulses not with blood but with a force that screams the essence of life itself.

Ki.

That's right. I have my meridians again, invisible and intangible, but always embedded in the physical body. The Ki I have reinvigorates me, bringing me back to my optimum condition.

It takes a long time before my whole body calms down. Through it all, King Yemma and the ogres just watch me with interest. I raise my hands, looking at the details. Touching my nose, I breathe in. I can smell again. And turns out, my clothes before I died are the same—minimalist blue shirt and black cargo pants.

I look up at King Yemma, who looks at me with an expression I can't quite tell. Still, I bow, the trauma of the experience bearing down on my fighting spirit a little. "Thank you, King Yemma, for giving me my body back."

King Yemma stares. "Are you okay, kid?"

I clench my fists, anger surging into an outburst waiting to happen before I control myself. What kind of question is that? Is he the fool or am I? "I'm not sure I'm following, King Yemma."

King Yemma looks at the ogres. They just shrug. Then he gazes at me again in what I can only describe as... shock? "Actually, the whole experience should have been painless for you."

I blink. "You mean… others didn't feel anything?"

"Nope," he says, shaking his head. "Not a single one. Every soul we've given their body back to, it's been smooth. No screaming, no thrashing. You're the first."

Polivoro scratches his cheek. "Yeah, I mean… that looked rough. You sure you're not just overly dramatic or something?" He chuckles before stopping himself.

I shoot him another glare. "Sure. I'll tone down the screaming and do more falsetto. Want to write me a score while we're at it?"

Polivoro raises his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, just saying—it was very melodramatic."

King Yemma clears his throat, commanding our attention. "Enough. We know this isn't a stage play. We get it, kid. Even I was caught off guard."

He leans forward, his tone more paternal than usual. "You sure you don't wanna rest first, kid? That must have been draining."

I just smile at them, eyes folding into slits. "No, I think I can rest while on the way to Snake Way. But thank you." There's no way I'm spending another minute here with these ogres. That's gotta be more draining.

Although quite hesitant, King Yemma agrees and orders Polivoro to escort me.

"Wait a sec..." I turn around and see Aleksio who has been waiting for his turn. I approach him. "Sorry it took so long."

He says nothing, astonished I now have my physical body more than anything.

"Well, I'm pretty much still dead." I laugh it off.

"Yes, I see halo," Aleksio says. "Was that you screaming like a banshee?"

"Oh, yeah... Comes with getting your whole physical body back." I pause. He looks creeped out. "But they did tell me I'm the only one who has experienced it for some weird reason. Others have tried, and it was all painless."

"Hmph. I don't want to be the second."

"Fair." I grin, then shift gears. "Yeah, but listen, you're strong, right? And maybe you'd wanna get stronger even."

I tell him about of King Kai and the arduous path that is Snake Way. Honestly, I just want someone to join me run through the whole length of Snake Way rather than do it alone. And because he could probably be a good mentor.

"Thoughtful of you to consider, but no." His gaze softens into something distant. "I rather just stay put. My wife—she died young. I promised I'd find her again. That's all that matters now."

"Oh, I see."

We bid each other goodbye. King Yemma explodes the moment I turn back, ranting about how I don't have the authority to just bring any soul I want with threats of removing my physical body and then putting it back on again. Absolute psycho.

I just smile at King Yemma as Polivoro begins to lead the way. "Thanks a lot, King Yemma."

"Don't ever let me see you again, kid, or I'll flay you myself." He casts a sadistic grin.

"I won't bet on it."

Polivoro and I head west, walk along a path lined with red railings that separate concrete from the billowing golden clouds beyond, and arrive at an open circular platform—all in silence. There sits his new hatchback car.

"This is my sweet baby." He presses the keys and the car chirps. He looks at me, an awkward smile plastered on his face. "So, what do you think?"

Don't like it. "Doesn't look too shabby. Totally like the 80s."

"Huh?"

"Never mind."

He opens the car, I jump in shotgun, and he starts. The scenery doesn't change. Still the same golden clouds blurring past.

It's only upon looking at the rearview mirror do I realize I haven't seen my face yet in Dragon Ball—and damn, do I look good. The light brown buzz cut suits me well, tight on the sides, fading clean into skin, framing a jawline with hollow cheeks sharp enough to draw stares. My almond-shaped, striking blue eyes look like they've been through something and learned not to flinch. My nose is a little snubbed, but it fits, anchoring everything in place. Even my lashes look intentionally shaped—neat, dark, like they were groomed for someone who wasn't planning to die young but enjoy life.

Still, is this really the body I had before I died? Or did King Yemma just make one up on the spot and gave me the same set of clothes? If so, he clearly has better taste then I gave him credit for.

My self-admiration is broken by the sound of a whistling. Polivoro, probably not used by the silence, is bouncing his knees and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the rhythm, eyes slightly too wide with boredom.

This awkwardness is suffocating.

"You can still talk, you know," I say with a sigh.

"Oh?" Polivoro glances at me for a brief second before eyeing the road. "Sure. I love talking, y'know."

"I can see that." I lean in the cushion, stealing one more glance at my handsome face before looking away. Best not to get carried away. "Say, how were you able to touch me?"

"Touch you?" Polivoro scoffs. "Where'd you get the idea I'd touch you?"

"I mean my tail, when you dragged me." I facepalm.

"Oh, okay. You could have said so." He chuckles. "'Touch' is weird, y'know, 'cause I only like touching girls and myself—wait, scratch that. Forget I said that."

I burst out laughing. "You always say the grossest stuff. Anyway, how?"

"Don't know really." He shrugs, leaning into the cushion as well. "We're just born with it. Could touch souls since I was a baby."

That explains it, I guess? I let it go for now. "So, any idea why others didn't feel pain when getting back their physical bodies?"

He thinks first. "Trust us. We got no clue, nada. Thought you were acting for a sec. Sorta thought you had a thing for bodies and y'know... were hitting some kind of freaky climax or something."

"Oh, come on!"

"I'm joking!" He laughs then turns serious before looking at me. "Your soul was acting weird during the transformation. Y'know, souls usually just accept the body, yeah? But yours? It was thrashing violently. Which is weird, because souls usually don't do that. But hey, maybe it's 'cause you just don't like sitting still. Even when dead."

Could this be because of what I did before, when I was able to access and control the Ki within my soul body? But it doesn't make sense. Why would my soul thrash violently?

I leave the thinking for the future.

We continue our back-and-forth and before we know it, the face of a giant snake statue emerges into view. The car slows to a halt, and we both disembark. My heart tugs.

This is it.

Reaching the statue with my hands, I feel the gloss and polish coating the head of the snake. Its pointy fangs jutting out of the base of its mouth feel the same. It looks brand new, or maybe it's revarnished. At our heights, we can only manage to reach the point of its lower fangs.

"How old do you think this statue is?"

"Don't know. Pretty sure it's way older than me, and I'm a thousand years old. Pretty mystical stuff, yeah?"

"Yeah." I shoot off without any hesitation, landing square on the head of the snake. It's pleasing to find I could clear the height of about four of Polivoro's hatchbacks stacked together. Not too impressive, but still!

"Well, I'm going now. I can't thank you guys enough."

"Yeah. You be careful, yeah? Hope you don't fall off."

"Yeah, I won't." I brace myself for a run.

"Oh, wait, before I forget, make sure you don't chat with the God of Snake Way, okay. She'll suck you dry." He chuckles. "She's at the 500,00-kilometer mark, literally halfway. You won't miss her palace—"

"Wait. You mean Snake Way's a million kilometers long?"

"Well, 'course it is. Honestly thought you knew."

Crap. I thought it was only ten thousand miles!

I should never have relied on the Funimation Dub.

Power Levels:

King Yemma: 1,200

Yubby: 900

Polivoro: 850

Carson: 10

Now Carson is finally gonna run the entire stretch of whole Snake Way to get to King Kai. The question is, how can he do that within ten years or less when it's 1,000,000 kilometers long, especially when we consider his 10 power level. That's the question I'm going to answer the next chapter, which will lay some of the foundations for his rapid increase in strength in the early arcs of this story. As for whether it's related to Kaio-ken, who knows? Stay tuned to find out! XD

Reviews:

heribertocha: Thanks again for reading. Really appreciate it.

DragonNOOB: I'm glad to know you're engaged with the idea. You're right. It does sound OP when you think about it. That's also something I considered somewhat. While not technically "sealing," he will use "weights" while running on Snake Way to become progressively faster and stronger. As for how he'll get some weights? Well, you'll find out the next chapter.