["Master, I have a question."]
[One day, on The Lookout's plaza, Piccolo suddenly asked Yamiru, who was wearing an animal mask.]
---
On the stage of the World Martial Arts Tournament, Piccolo's body was wreathed in a fiery aura as his glowing fist smashed into Goku's face.
---
["Where do I come from?"]
["Do my… family members really exist?"]
["What… am I?"]
---
Goku's nose bled slightly as his head snapped back—only for him to immediately retaliate, slamming his forehead hard into Piccolo's.
BAM!
The impact was so loud that the entire audience felt a phantom ache in their own skulls.
Piccolo staggered backward, dizzy, as fragmented memories flashed through his mind in an instant.
---
[Hearing his only disciple's question, Yamiru—still wearing the animal mask—paused.]
[He seemed to smile. "You are of the Dragon Race."]
["Dragon Race?" Piccolo was confused.]
[Yamiru spoke meaningfully. "As for family… haven't you already found them yourself?"]
[Piccolo froze, thinking his master meant that Yamiru himself was his family… but then Yamiru continued, "The Dragon Balls you created with your own hands! The other end of the Eternal Dragon is connected to your true kin… That is what I mean by the Dragon Race."]
[Piccolo murmured, "Dragon Race… So that's it…"]
[No wonder he had felt strange, indistinct sensations when creating the Dragon Balls.]
[No one had ever taught him the specifics of making them.]
[Yet he had done it instinctively.]
[He hadn't even questioned why he chose the form of a dragon model and seven orbs—not one, not dozens, not hundreds.]
[Yamiru watched his disciple with faint anticipation and chuckled. "Among the Dragon Clan of the Dragon Race, you must be one of the most talented, no?"]
[If Piccolo could lay eggs like the Grand Elder to reproduce…]
[Then as an original, undivided prodigy of the Dragon Clan, he should possess all the same abilities—Dragon Ball creation, telepathy, combat prowess, and reproductive capacity.]
["Even healing powers, and…"]
---
The fierce battle on the stage raged on for a full minute.
The storm of blows shattered the arena's tiles, leaving cracks and craters—despite both fighters holding back to avoid destroying it completely.
The invisible pressure made it hard for the audience to breathe. Those in the front rows instinctively wanted to retreat, yet the thrill kept them rooted in place, eyes wide.
BOOM!
The two glowing figures collided mid-air above the stage, erupting in a blinding explosion of light!
In the crowd, Raditz remained outwardly calm, but the Saiyan Prince beside him gaped in disbelief.
'Is this… the power of a low-class warrior?' 'This is a joke!'
The world made no sense anymore. Raditz—once a weakling—could now overpower him, the Saiyan Prince and prodigy, with one hand.
And Raditz's own brother, Kakarot—the runt deemed so worthless he was sent to this backwater planet as a baby—was now even stronger than Raditz!
'Since when could Saiyans be this strong?!'
Even the legendary Super Saiyan he had dreamed of becoming couldn't possibly possess such monstrous power!
'If Kakarot and his opponent both have this level of strength… does that mean Kakarot is already a Super Saiyan?!'
While Vegeta spiraled into an existential crisis…
On the stage, Goku and Piccolo broke apart after their last clash, landing on opposite ends of the ruined arena.
Tap. Tap.
Goku exhaled deeply, wiping the blood from his nose and spitting out a mouthful. His clothes were torn, his skin bruised and dusty—yet his energy hadn't waned in the slightest.
Those who could sense ki—Yamiru, Gine, Raditz, Krillin, Chi-Chi, even Vegeta—could tell: Goku's energy remained boundless, as if he had endless stamina ready to unleash.
Piccolo sensed it too.
But in that regard… he was the same.
A minute of combat was more than enough for martial masters like them to gauge each other's limits.
Goku had the upper hand.
If this dragged into a battle of endurance, the Saiyan's relentless fighting spirit would inevitably secure his victory.
With that in mind, Piccolo cracked his neck loudly.
"Hey!" Goku called out. "You're the one who told me to come back as a Super Saiyan, or else I'd get beaten up!"
He grinned. "If this is all you've got, that's not happening! I can win right now."
"Goku… you really are strong."
Piccolo's voice was low as he tore off his tattered shirt, revealing his powerfully built torso marked with intricate patterns.
"And indeed, worthy of me finally using..." Piccolo muttered, stepping forward with a low exhale. His fists raised, his stance shifted—shhhk—his feet slid across the shattered ground as he settled into position. "This move!"
"Huh?" Goku frowned. Around the arena, fragments of broken stone trembled and lifted into the air.
An unusual energy pulsed from Piccolo's body.
The mustached referee adjusted his sunglasses, baffled but still attempting some kind of play-by-play commentary—though he clearly had no idea what was happening.
"H-hey, what's he doing…?" Krillin gulped, watching from behind the "Martial Arts" archway. His eyes flicked to Yamiru, who was leaning against the wall with a faint smile.
Memories from years ago flashed through Yamiru's mind—
---
[Back at The Lookout]
["Unlocking potential?"]
[Piccolo repeated his master's words in surprise.]
[Yamiru, still masked, chuckled. "How will you know unless you try? What if it works?"]
[Piccolo stared at his own hands, hesitating. "But how? I don't even know where to start…"]
[Mr. Popo volunteered to be the test subject for the God's disciple.]
["No need. I'll do it." Yamiru raised a hand to stop him, gazing at the endless sky beyond the temple. His voice was distant. "Actually… I've been meaning to confirm something myself."]
[Piccolo watched, stunned, as his master walked to the edge of the temple.]
[A torrent of white energy erupted from Yamiru's body, surging upward like a pillar of light. A violent wind swept across the sacred grounds—the sheer pressure was overwhelming, his power unimaginable.]
[Then, tiny motes of light began drifting away from Yamiru's form…]
["Master, what are you—?" Piccolo asked, bewildered.]
[Yamiru panted, unused to this sudden weakness. He braced his hands on his knees, adjusting, before letting out a light laugh behind his mask. "It's nothing. Just returning something I borrowed."]
[Piccolo still didn't understand…]
["Now, try it on me." Yamiru, unsteady on his feet, walked toward Piccolo. "I want the answer."]
---
"HRRAAAGH!"
A deafening roar split the air as a pillar of light exploded from Piccolo's body!
In an instant, his power skyrocketed—multiplying beyond measure. To those sensing his energy, it was like a nuclear bomb had just detonated beneath their feet.
---
["I see… So that's how it is…"]
[Back on the temple plaza, just as Piccolo began doubting whether his innate ability had failed, Yamiru—still masked—spoke with quiet realization.]
[Soon after, carefree laughter echoed across the sacred skies.]
---
"Heh…" Yamiru rested his chin on his hand, watching the spectacle with amusement.
Debris and dust surged toward him, only to disintegrate upon nearing his invisible aura—crumbling into fine particles before dissolving into strands of pure energy. Silently, they were absorbed into Yamiru's body.
A faint glow shimmered across his fingertips and skin, as if his very cells were rejoicing.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
On the ruined stage, Piccolo unleashed his full might, his potential fully unlocked. White-hot energy surged around him, endless and unstoppable.