The golden lightning dissipated, revealing the sinuous, ∞-shaped emerald form of the Eternal Dragon…
Dorag, peering through the Earth's dragon's crimson eyes, scanned below. He saw the miniature girl, Joey, perched atop someone's head, her mouth agape in exaggerated awe at the grand spectacle. And beneath her… Dorag's expression stiffened. Why is this guy still lingering in the Mortal Realm?! If you're dead, just go to the Other World like a proper soul!
"O gatherer of the seven Dragon Balls…" Dorag mechanically recited the script through the dragon's booming, solemn voice. "State your wish, and it shall be granted…"
Yamiru didn't waste time. He pointed at the golden halo above his head and said flatly, "Dorag, get rid of this thing for me."
?
Dorag was stunned. Does this guy even know how to make a wish?!
If he wanted to be revived, he should just say so! What kind of wish was "take off the golden halo"—oh, wait. Technically, that was the essence of "revival", but still! The sheer audacity! Did this guy forget he was talking to a divine dragon? Just because he was Earth's Guardian Deity, just because he was half a step away from refining his body into a true divine vessel, just because he bore the Dragon God's mark on his wrist—did that mean he could talk to a dragon like this?!
"This wish… is easily granted." The dragon's eyes flared brighter.
Joey, sitting on Yamiru's head, craned her neck curiously. Sure enough—the golden halo that had been there since she'd first met him began to fade, as if erased by an invisible hand, until it vanished completely.
In the Underworld, King Yemma's Palace
A thunderous SLAM echoed as Yemma smashed his desk, sending panicked underworld attendants scrambling. "MY LORD, PLEASE CALM DOWN—!"
Back on Earth
Aside from the disappearance of the halo, the only noticeable change was the sudden severing of the heavenly energy it had been channeling. The "connection" was gone—though, to be fair, reception in the Mortal Realm had always been spotty. All in all, Yamiru felt no difference in his body.
Which only confirmed his long-held theory:
A "dead" body was, in essence, already revived—just stuck in bureaucratic limbo. The golden halo was nothing more than a heavenly visa, marking him as a resident of the Otherworld. By removing it, the Dragon Balls had simply… deported him back to the Mortal Realm.
Yamiru smirked at the absurdity.
Still…
After roughly 40,000 years, he was finally, truly, alive again.
He took a deep breath.
"Your wish has been granted…" the dragon intoned, already beginning to dissolve into golden light. "Farewell—"
"Ah-ah-ah!" Yamiru raised his hands, unleashing a surge of white spiritual energy that froze the seven Dragon Balls mid-scatter. "Don't be in such a hurry~"
Dorag, watching from the Dragon Realm's orbital ring, rolled his eyes so hard he nearly strained them. With a mental flick, he severed the connection.
---
"I'll leave it to you to return these in a year, Joey."
Under the now-clear sky, on the outskirts of South City, Yamiru handed the task to the tiny girl.
Joey, already spinning the seven white stones around her with telekinesis, plopped onto one and gave a playful salute. As the stones orbited, she kept spinning into view, saluting over and over like a tiny, overenthusiastic soldier.
Yamiru sighed. "I'll probably be at Uranai Baba's place. You can find me there."
Joey spun into frame again, shouting "Roger that!" before twirling away…
Watching her go, Yamiru turned his gaze toward another part of South City.
Outside the Psychic School, that weak and flickering ki pulsed with injury and exhaustion—as if its owner had just barely clawed his way back from death's door... Soon, the wounded boy would have his first encounter with the Briefs family, sneak out of the hospital, and spend a restless night grappling with the aftermath of his first life-or-death battle...
---
The next morning, by the sea.
BOOM! Waves crashed against the shore as sharks circled ominously.
On the beach, the mysterious elder advanced step by step, forcing the panicked boy backward—until, with a desperate shout, he lost his footing and plunged into the water...
---
Whoosh—
The figure in the animal mask rode the wind high above, gliding toward a distant island. Below, the boy thrashed through the waves, swimming for his life as a shark closed in...
---
Splash!
Half-drowned, the boy crawled onto the sand like a bedraggled stray dog. Clasping his hands together, he bowed shakily toward the retreating shark fin.
---
At the entrance to the Martial Arts Temple,
The disheveled, nervous boy barely opened his mouth before the Turtle Hermit cut him off with a chuckle. "Heh... Kid, your mind's too cluttered. I won't take you as a student."
The sunglasses reflected the boy's fleeting disappointment—and, in their corner, the faint silhouette of an animal mask watching from a nearby wall.
---
"Whoa!"
"Eight-Arm Fist—for real?!"
"Thought that was just hype!"
Whispers rippled through the crowd at the preliminary tournament. Leaning against a corner, unnoticed, the masked observer watched as the "Eight-Armed" King Chappa effortlessly launched the wide-eyed boy out of the ring...
---
Outside the temple, under a blood-red sunset,
The mysterious elder spoke to the exhausted boy, who listened in dazed silence.
Then—SLAM!
The old man's palm struck the boy's forehead, sending him rocketing like a comet toward the distant horizon...
Flying alongside the boy on the evening breeze, the masked Yamiru studied those vacant, bewildered eyes. He couldn't quite remember now—what had he seen during that humiliating, disoriented flight?
Fragments came back: a universe rushing past, stars blurring into streaks...
Against the twilight sky, the masked figure watched as the boy finally crash-landed, unconscious, onto a faraway beach...
---
THUD!
The ragged boy face-planted onto icy mountain stone. Bitter wind gnawed at his feverish skin; his mind teetered on the edge of collapse.
WOOO! WOOO! Sirens wailed overhead—Red Ribbon Army troops were closing in.
With a desperate roll, the boy wedged himself behind a boulder, trembling violently, lips blue, teeth chattering.
On the other side of the rock, the animal-masked figure sat unfazed by the cold, listening to the shivering gasps behind him.
A long silence passed.
"...Damn. Did I really have it this bad back then?"