The gloomy, damp forest—
Crack! A flash of lightning illuminated a tall figure walking through the dense woods, along with his cold, amber eyes.
Boom… Thunder rumbled across the sky.
Crunch. Piccolo stepped on a broken branch, his gaze pausing slightly as he looked ahead at the enormous shadow—a castle, built in such a forsaken place.
Having left the Temple over a century ago, Piccolo had grown increasingly distant from human settlements. For the past thirty years, he had mostly wandered through uninhabited wilderness, almost forgetting what humans—and their dwellings—even looked like.
He feared losing control of the demon within.
So, upon seeing this eerie castle, his first instinct was to leave. But after sensing no presence inside, he hesitated, observed for a moment, and then stepped forward.
Pushing open the ancient, heavy doors, Piccolo entered the castle, his footsteps stirring dust on the worn red carpet.
"Who… who's there?" A voice suddenly spoke from the darkness ahead.
Piccolo stiffened, focusing his vision. From the black void, a pair of crimson eyes flickered to life… As the figure approached, it revealed itself to be a hunched, monstrous-looking creature, twisted like a demon.
This thing's energy is so weak—like a dying candle in the wind. No wonder I didn't notice him earlier. Piccolo steadied himself but still took two steps back. Even at this distance, the urge to tear the creature apart was nearly overwhelming…
Just then, the figure rasped, "Ah… you're a Demon too?"
Demon!?
Piccolo's pupils contracted.
Though he had never heard the term before, he instantly connected it to his own condition.
So that's what I am…
A storm of emotions raged inside him, yet his voice remained calm. "What… is a Demon?"
The frail, seemingly near-death Demon glanced at Piccolo, coughing before wheezing out, "There aren't many of us left… Come, follow me…"
Piccolo trailed the creature deeper into the darkness, soon arriving at the heart of the castle—a vast chamber with towering steps.
His night vision was sharp. Lifting his gaze, he saw a terrifying figure seated upon a massive throne!
Piccolo's body tensed, instincts screaming at him to prepare for battle.
"This… is the King of the Demon… Lord Satan…" The hunched Demon's voice was weak, yet laced with both reverence and hatred—two opposing emotions strangely intertwined. "He was the greatest of us… and yet, it was he who ended the Demon's legacy…"
Only then did Piccolo realize—the figure on the throne was a corpse. The withered remains of the great demon king, Satan.
Just a dead body… and yet, it's this terrifying!
A chill ran down Piccolo's spine. Since his power had surged, he hadn't felt fear like this in a long time.
To him, the rest of the world was nothing but ants.
Yet now, before this lifeless husk, Piccolo instinctively recognized its overwhelming dread. He couldn't fathom that such a monstrous being had once existed—or worse, could have existed.
The hunched Demon led Piccolo past the throne, descending into an underground cavern.
Fwoosh. A candle flickered to life, casting their mismatched silhouettes against the cold stone walls.
Sweat dripped from Piccolo's brow as he studied the strange murals and inscriptions—tales written in the tone of myths and legends.
Demons… calamities…
"Lord Satan… could have wiped this world away with a mere gesture… the supreme and invincible Demon King…" The hunched Demon coughed violently, his lungs like broken bellows. "His strength… was the pinnacle of all Demon…" With bitter resentment, he traced the final line of text carved into the stone.
The words were faded, ancient:
"Here ends the lineage of demons. My vigil concludes."
Unconsciously, Piccolo's body was drenched in cold sweat. "If he was so powerful… how did he die? What happened?"
The hunched Demon remained silent for so long that Piccolo wondered if he had suddenly dropped dead.
"It was… the Kami-sama…" The creature's voice held none of the hatred he had for Satan—only fear. "He is the savior praised by humans… and the destroyer of all. A being even more terrifying than the Great Demon King Satan… It was he who defeated Satan… and commanded him to sever the Demon's bloodline… None could escape the Great Demon King's purge… None…"
Kami…
Piccolo's mind flashed to the white-robed, animal-masked figure.
The Kami… is that powerful!?
Even with the reverence he held for the Kami, even knowing he was the savior of legends, witnessing this truth firsthand shook Piccolo to his core.
"Under Satan's enforcement, we Demon… could only live like you…" The hunched Demon looked up, grinning grotesquely at Piccolo. "You… have never killed a human, have you?"
Piccolo clenched his fists, barely suppressing his murderous urge. "I am not a Demon."
The creature let out a wheezing laugh, as if hearing the world's greatest joke. "You… you're truly… hilarious! Hahaha… Do you think… do you think becoming a Demon… has a starting point? Hahahaha—!"
The hunched Demon laughed wildly—until, right before Piccolo's eyes, he laughed himself to death.
Collapsing to the ground, the candle toppled, its dying embers illuminating his twisted smile as his final breath carried one last whisper into Piccolo's ears:
"From the very beginning… you were always a Demon…"
Piccolo's rage erupted like a storm. "Shut up!"
The cavern trembled, rocks tumbling as shockwaves of his energy blast reduced the hunched Demon to a charred husk. By the time Piccolo regained his senses, all that remained was a smoldering corpse…
---
Inside a crystal ball, the scene of Piccolo's silent anguish in the underground cavern played out. Annin watched indifferently, casually eating hot pot from the Furnace of Eight Divisions, her expression unreadable.
---
The Return to Yunzabit Heights
Nearly two centuries later, Piccolo returned to Yunzabit Heights—the place he once called home.
Perched atop the white, insectoid-shaped dwelling, he stared blankly at the sky.
The same sky he had gazed upon for thirty years now felt foreign.
What… am I, really?
Fragments of familial voices echoed in his mind.
"Another world…" he murmured in his native tongue—the very meaning behind the name Piccolo, a longing for a homeland he never knew. If he was a Demon, then what did that make his origins? What of the family he had naively yearned for all those years?
With a heavy heart, he left Yunzabit once more.
---
The Martial Art Hall
Cold winds whipped past as Piccolo flew aimlessly until a familiar energy caught his attention below.
At the Martial Temple, an aged Mutaito was in the middle of a furious tirade, dragging two disgraceful disciples by their collars before hurling them outside.
"One's a swindler, the other a womanizer! I swear, you two will be the death of me!" Mutaito roared. "Goku, wipe that smirk off your face! Just because you're the Oracle's sworn brother doesn't mean you're special! Kneel! Both of you—no meals for three days!"
From above, Piccolo watched silently, making no move to reunite. Only when Mutaito stormed off did Taro break his obedient act, sticking his tongue out at his fellow disciple.
Piccolo turned away, gazing into the distance before finally flying off.
Back inside the temple, Mutaito stood in the corridor, staring at the sky for a long, silent moment.
---
A century later, Piccolo stood once more on The Lookout's plaza—but this time, with a vastly different heart.
"Hello," Mr. Popo greeted, unchanged after all these years.
Piccolo's eyes darted around until Mr. Popo pointed upward.
"So you've finally crossed the threshold," a playful voice called from above. The white-robed Kami floated down, studying him. "Quite different from Mutaito, aren't you?"
"Kami…" Piccolo whispered.
Yamiru landed before him. "When did you first feel your power surging?"
He hadn't been monitoring Piccolo constantly—he had his own training. Over the past century, he had finally refined the last 1% of his brain cells, leaving only 2% in his eyes before his entire body would fully ascend into G-Cells—divine cells.
Sweat beaded on Piccolo's forehead. Even now, facing the Kami felt like staring into the sun—an overwhelming presence beyond comprehension.
"Kami…" His voice was hollow. "Is it because… I was always a Demon? Was I wrong from the very beginning?"
Yamiru resisted the urge to facepalm. "What nonsense are you spouting? If I thought that, I would've erased you back in Yunzabit. Instead, I even invited you to join me."
Piccolo's eyes widened—was that why the Kami had rejected him all these years?
Yamiru, of course, wasn't reading his mind. He raised a finger, making Piccolo tense—but this time, he only tapped the Namekian's forehead.
"If you've realized your problem, then solve it yourself. How have you not thought of this yet?"
Piccolo was still reeling from the sheer helplessness he felt under that single touch when Yamiru's next words struck him like lightning.
"But… I'm a Demon now…"
Yamiru sighed. No wonder the Grand Elder called this genius foolish.
Or perhaps the demonic influence had clouded Piccolo's mind, making him forget his own nature—just as the Earth's Kami later rediscovered his abilities.
Done with riddles, Yamiru cut to the chase.
"Dragon Balls. Does that ring any bells?"
Piccolo froze, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
"You're a prodigy of the Namekian Dragon Clan," Yamiru said softly. "All you need to do is remember your innate gift."
The gift tied to the Dragon Realm.
Yamiru glanced at the sky, a thought crossing his mind—
'Was this why the Dragon God showed me such kindness back then?'
---
Mutaito: 180
Piccolo: 18,000